I want to be a Red Coat

Dear Marianne,

I keep checking the calendar to be sure, but it really is only three days and not three weeks since the end of the school term. I felt bad when all the Mothers were agreeing that it was great to have the summer holidays here at last, because I was also a wee bit worried about it.
I joined in and I meant it. I'm just as tired as they are, feeding dressing and dragging exhausted children up to school to exhausted teachers, who also wish it was the summer holidays, and that they were laying on a beach in the south of France and not working on the mini beasts project.

Mind you, you don't want to actually meet a teacher on a beach during the holidays. I remember one beautiful summers day with my family at Climping beach being completely ruined when we bumped into my trumpet teacher playing beach ball with his friends.
He was a slimy fellow even with his clothes on. Mum said he went red every time he spoke to her, and she thought she knew what was on his mind - yuk. On that summers afternoon, he was wearing only a very tight fitting swimming costume and his slimy grin (none of his teeth were his own , he had them all taken out so that he could play the trumpet better) and even though I was only 12 I felt sick for all the right reasons. I can still see him looking like ...oh what's the word?.. bleugh.

Anyway, holidays. I am glad they are here, and we have the boys for three weeks this year and that Grandad John is coming down from Scotland tomorrow. But six weeks is a very long time when you have to provide entertainment twelve hours a day to a three and five year old.
My friend "Dundee" is berating herself for breaking one of the cardinal rules of "Modern Parenting" (by Susie Swift, 14.99 in all good book shops), she peaked too soon! On day one of the holidays she took her kids on a big, fun, sugar fuelled, friend filled trip to the SEASIDE. Amateur! Actually I nearly went too, but can now be smug about the fact that I didn't. The highlight of day two of the holidays for her children was a trip to the hairdressers followed by stale cakes and rubbish biscuits at my house; she is going to have to throw some serious money and relatives at this holiday to get her parenting badge back up to level three.

Just spent an afternoon of jigsaw puzzle hell. Mike is obsessed with them, but I don't like them, they take too long and there is no point, just look at the picture on the front of the box and then you don't have to bother. After this I had to play the book + buzzer game - another Anna invention - I wont bore you with the details. Actually I will. It is a modern version of the local Library, you press the "on button" and make a buzzing sound and a hard back book gets thrown down the stairs at you - you read it very quickly (or else) press the "off button" and (shut your eyes) the book miraculously disappears back up the stairs.
This kind of thing is difficult, especially if you are hot, bored, hungry, pre-menstrual and don't believe in make believe anymore. In fact the ages four to eight are impossible if you don't believe in make believe and if you don't do surreal, or stories about poo, bums, wee or knock knock jokes.
I walked with a friend to school the other day and her son told a series of rubbish knock knock jokes all the way, which she forbore with her typical patience, but after five long minutes even she was forced to plea "last one then Henry".

Saturday
The plan was this: New day New attitude. I was going to work so hard on my "parenting" skills that I would get my Red Coat by the end of the summer. Today was to be the first day of the rest of my life etc. etc. But then I listened to something about mid-life crisis with Giles Brandwrewthethweth (who I should hate, but I quite like)on radio 4 and I realised that I too am having a mid-life crisis, and that I should buy a motorbike, get a young Greek boy and leave the family to "find myself" somewhere exotic. But since I can't do this I am going to do what all people with no money do when the time comes for a bit of self analysis - keep it inside and grow myself a tumor.
Its better I think than doing the self awareness thing. I don't want to "recognise" (see)the "challenges" (mess)which "play a role" (will)"and pose certain limitations" (stop)"on my daily endeavours" (me living my life).
This is what I "recognise": I have achieved nothing in my career, I will achieve nothing in my career, I have no time or money to do the things I want to do or want my family to do, my body and mind are degenerating, one is going south and the other is going wrong; its all going to end in tears, and sooner rather than later.

Mustn't dwell though, I'm off to feed a friend's hamster which may have died of neglect already, who knows with those things?
Tomorrow will have to be the first day of the rest of my life...

Rx