Yesterday was one of those mornings. I had the best of intentions of being the super-mum who is super organised and super relaxed. It could have happened, had it not been for school photos.
I was up early. I was organised. Lunches were made, breakfast bowls set on the bench ready to be filled by the kids with whatever cereal their little hearts desired. Tea cups ready, I was ready. I knew all the uniforms were washed, ironed and hanging in cupboards. One by one I woke the sleeping ferals. One by one I shooed them into the bathroom for showers and out again. Dressed and shoes on. One by one they packed their bags. Diary signed. Check. Home folder. Check. Locker Key. Check. Lunches. Check. Breakfast was consumed. Morning devotions done. Ready to face the day. Time to leave for school. We were early. Yay!
Beep beep went my phone. A sms message as I was locking the front door. It read “Don’t forget it’s school photos today, so no sports uniform and nice pretty hair.” Me, the mum who was on top of it had forgotten. Paigey’s hair was a tangled mess (we had planned to brush in the car), and she was wearing bright pink socks (I was in a compliant “who cares about white socks mood”) Lach had sport. Yellow shirt, black shorts and runners. His hair was dishevelled and looked more like a surfer from the seventies than a well groomed year five lad (which is cool on normal, non-photo school days)
Ten minutes later of maybe a lot of frantic yelling, and a little dash of psycho mum, we were in the car. Photo forms were found. Hair in nice neat pigtails with white ribbons. Boys hair was waxed into a more acceptable messy 10 year old boy style. White socks on. The sports uniform had been abandoned and a crisp white shirt, blues shorts and unpolished school shoes in it’s place. Phew. Crisis aborted.
The trip to school was unusually quiet. Maybe they were all in shock.
I walked to the school reception and filled out two photo forms (which, I may add, were the worst, most unintelligible and confusing forms in the history of school photo forms), then realised that I didn’t have my wallet, so no credit card details to complete the forms that the kids needed before school started. I did what any self-respecting wife doesn’t do – ring her husband who she knows is in meetings all morning and ask for said details. I couldn’t exactly ascertain what mood he was in when he finally picked up. After three unanswered calls in quick succession, he probably thought something terrible had happened…
I handed the forms to the kids. Paige kissed me again and said “have a good day mum.”
Thankfully the day did get better. Bible study with friends, cups of tea and a new cookbook bought with a birthday voucher. Then the best. I could go home and relax as I knew I didn’t have to make dinner. There was a lasagna waiting at mum and dad’s for us. All I needed to do was pick it up and heat it for dinner. Bliss!
It was a day of best intentions. It had a rocky start, but it turned out great.
As I sat down last night after the last of the kids went to bed, it dawned on me that I shouldn’t make such unrealistic goals. Life normally runs smoothly. Ok, mornings are not perfect around here, but we usually get to the end point without too much drama. And the drive to school is not usually quiet which is just the way I love it.
Why do we set unrealistic goals? Shouldn’t we know better?