Linking up again with the totally righteous DearBabyG to get my weekly whine on.
This week I expected great things. After the epic school holidays of torturous duration, finally, on Wednesday Miss6 donned her school uniform for another year.
I showed enough self control to ensure my repeated "WOOHOO!" was only in my head. Would've made me look like a total crap and heartless mother if I'd said it out loud in amongst the sea of misty-eyed first time Kindy parents.
Give them a year, they too will feel the white line fever that has gripped me in the week leading up to the return of school.
Then I commenced blubbering in front of Miss6's new Year 1 teacher, totally unintentionally, thereby making me look like a raving lunatic as I babbled on about her Auditory Processing Disorder and Global Developmental Delay and the latest addition to the list which is something to do with poorly co-ordination that she inherited from yours truly, FFS!?
As the teacher backed away smiling warily, I advanced, step for step. I couldn't stop myself - the crying or the advancing. It was like witnessing a train wreck, as I knew exactly how I must look - and yet I couldn't bloody stop myself, FFS!?
On the plus side, the new parents in the room totally avoided any and all eye contact, so I've probably saved myself a full school term of awkward small talk as we wait for the kids to get out of class each day.
I forgot Miss6's water bottle and half her lunch. Day one and two, FFS!?
#1Hubby was with me for day one, so he witnessed my parental faux pas and will forever laud it over me when he is losing any argument. Any. Argument. FFS!?
I also forgot half her school supplies, FFS!?
Thankfully I didn't realise until I got home and #1Hubby was safely at work. I found the Twin Tornado pulling it all apart simply because they could. One. More. Freaking. Year. FFS!?
The Twin Tornado have to come with me for school drop off and pick up each day, for the first time. Last year they were always asleep for both, so I had #1 Brother look after them, but he's working and now they're sadistic little bastards that never sleep, and so they must come with, FFS!?
Each day I point out the Kindy classroom they'll be in next year, and seriously consider nudging them in the door and hoping nobody asks any questions. I reckon I'd have a good chance too, as neither can say their surname clearly, so it'd take the school a while to track them back to their rightful owner. Stay tuned.
Mstr3 likes to show off his extensive vocabulary at school. In the 3 days since school started, he has pulled out every swear word in his repertoire, and yelled them out in a lovely and angelic sing-songy voice, while smiling, and - unfortunately - standing right next to me so I can't blend into the group and pretend he's not mine, FFS!?
Miss3 has refused to climb down from the play equipment to come home at the end of each day. I'm too scared to challenge her while there are other parents around, as she would likely swear louder than her brother, and then launch at me from the top of the play equipment, slow motion karate kick style. Not even kidding, FFS!?
So we are the last to leave the school, every day so far, as I wait for the crowds to disperse so that nobody witnesses me begging, pleading and threatening my 3yr old, FFS!?
Not even the promise of a trip to Macca's for an ice cream worked on her, which scares me above all else. What am I to do if I can no longer rely on Macca's as my bribery tool of choice? FFS!?
They're too young to bribe with Bieber or booze, FFS!?
And now that the Twin Tornado are getting older, suddenly I'm not just dragging them with me to and from school, there's swimming lessons, playgroup, and ohmigod every bastard toddler activity that good parents enrol their kids into while taking out a 2nd and 3rd mortgage to afford having their offspring prance around a grotty council hall to the dulcet tunes of The Wiggles while a teenager tries to show them how to do star jumps, FFS!?
I am already plotting the multiple acts of old age incontinence I am going to enact on them by way of revenge.