I have nothing cheery to tell you. Don't get your hopes up. But K is watching a Top Gear on BBC 3 even I have seen at least three times before and I have to do something, so I'm here. Also I need to use my brain. I was half way through my supper before I realised I was eating with a child's fork with a plastic end and a picture of a cow on it. In my tired state I clearly got confused and didn't notice. It was butternut squash mash so I can see how the confusion arose. It was basically baby food on an adult plate.
Yesterday G's first day started promisingly. He was in no way sharing my pain at separation and ran in happily with his packed lunch box. However on collection he was catatonic. He was clutching a chocolate coin they were giving out to celebrate a birthday and due to the heat of his hand it had melted. I could tell that although he knew it had melted, he still wanted to eat it, and he had been told by his teacher to eat it at home but he clearly wanted to eat it right then and there. These thought processes rendered him entirely unable to answer my questions on his lunch, friends, teacher or in fact his time at school in general so he just stared at the melting coin. I was initially very worried that he was in some hideous state of shock from being at school all day, until I opened the foil to reveal the melted chocolate and prove my point that it was no longer edible, whereupon he licked it clean and after that he was able to tell me his day had been ok. By the time we got home, via the sweet shop, he was very happy. I relaxed. That was a mistake.
This morning as I ran down the stairs screaming at them to put their shoes on G began his revolt and stuck himself to the sofa shouting that he didn't want to go to school. From then on my day went entirely down hill. Suffice to say there was screaming - his about school, mine about having to put his shoes on and not taking them off again when I had managed to shove one in place. He screamed and cried all the way to school, where he clung to me and sobbed to go home and stay with me all day. I began to well up. A lovely teaching assistant tried to pull him off me but promptly dropped him when she realised how much he weighed (he is a very solid boy) but then rallied, picked him up and took him off wailing into the distance. I cried, was comforted by friends and then left for playgroup.
Ted then decided to become the centre of attention having taken a back seat for too long and proceeded to try and kill himself many times on a scooter by playing chicken with the road. Playgroup offered something of a reprieve and some adult interaction which is always thrilling. I even skived singing time which was the highlight of my day. Ted emptied the instruments from the box - hitting small children as he did so - and then put the box on his head before walking into the small children he had just hit with instruments. We ran out quickly and had the playdoh to ourselves. Result.
Upon arrival home the lunch time guilt hit, where Ted is asleep and I feel I should be whipping the house into shape but I find my bottom inextricably stuck to the sofa instead. Then Ted awoke and screamed at me for an enjoyable half an hour until I abandoned a phone call with my mother, got him interested in Curious George, emptied and reloaded the dishwasher and washing machine and then we set off for the afternoon pick up.
I was first in line to pick up G who I had worried about all day. I discovered from his teacher that he had been fine from about two minutes after he left me so I could have saved myself the worry. Having waited patiently on his scooter for G to exit, Ted took his appearance as a sign we could now leave and set off for the school gate at lightning speed on his scooter (scooting in the playground is in fact banned and there are signs and frequent texts to parents to reinforce this policy and I had two more children to obtain). I abandoned G mid-sentence about his shark picture and ran hell for leather through the throngs screaming TED. Ted took over the screaming when I managed to catch up with him and tore the scooter from his sweaty hands. I picked up the other two children with Ted safely in the buggy and screaming incredibly loudly and we managed to leave. The screaming lasted for far too long and G became pretty annoyed with the noise and with the fact that I did not have a Scooby Doo chocolate egg in my possession. I had, in my stupidity, tried to bribe him with one this morning and totally forgotten about it because he hadn't really stuck to the deal of going happily to school. So, Ted was screaming, the extra child I look after was less than impressed and Bea was valiantly trying to push the heavy buggy so I could pull a recalcitrant G on the scooter whilst he lambasted me for being 'nuseless' and not as good as the GOD that is Daddy. As we approached the home straight a teenager walked past with an ice cream which saved the day. We stopped, bought our own ice creams and all screaming stopped. Until we got home and Ted got hold of the Calippo Shot G had left on the table and shook it all over my freshly cleaned living room carpet - big angry red spots of sugary ice lolly - everywhere. Ted hid behind his hands. I screamed.
Nothing has gone to plan today and I am greatly looking forward to tomorrow and starting again. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be beautifully serene and glide into the playground with immaculately turned out and well behaved, quiet children. I shall at no point break in to an ungainly run or raise my voice in any way for any reason. All the children will be happy and smiling as they wave me a merry goodbye whilst Ted sits happily in the buggy. Everyone will look at me with awe and wonderment and I shall smile benignly with the smug knowledge that I am amazing. Oh, and no one will approach me in the midst of all the mayhem of pick up and tell me that we have managed to bounce a cheque to the school and I need to cough up in hard cash. Tomorrow I shall also win the euro lottery and then generously donate a vast sum to the school and have a whole building named after me and my serene and well behaved family.
I am going to retire to bed in anticipation of all the excitement awaiting me. Buenos Noches.