1. Half Term. It's my first real long one; I'm new to being a mum to a pre-schooler. Anyway, I was a little miffed to see that, on the last day of going to school, Annie didn't bring home a leaflet from the teachers telling us what we have to do during the school holidays. *I* don't know what to do. I can't remember what we did before. Our chunk of school run and class time routines have been quashed for a fortnight and I'm all mixed up. The teachers didn't tell us what to do and I am all confused. Teachers: in future kindly use some of your spare time - perhaps in your own evening time - to create unimaginative parents like me a "Fun Things to-do whilst Teachers are not babysitting for you" list. Feel free to substitute "Fun" with "Cheap", "Indoors", "Dangerous" or "Pub-friendly". Many thanks.
2. I'm still not used to the qualification of "term-time"; predominately "in-term", "out of term" and "half term". I don't get it. Let's just call it "2-weeks off", shall we?
3. I note that kids are not going back to school until Tuesday. It doesn't escape my attention that teachers will be getting communally squiffy on this Monday free day. I'll find you out.
4. Went to a big local farm place today where lots of middle-class people go. You know the one. It has a pride-clothes shop and expensive placebo sausages. The delightful combination of it being cheap, kids being on the hols, it being situated on the edge of a large Ipswich housing estate and the sun being out meant just one thing; There were a fucking lot of kids there. Hugo, Popsy, Buffy and Maude were in abundance and so were their clueless shrill parents.
5. I'm pretty clueless too. I spent most of the time aimlessly shouting at my kids to stay with me (I have lake phobia at that place) when I could have helped the situation by dressing them in dissimilar clothes to what all the other rodents were wearing. Like a gimp suit or nazi attire or something. Not only would I have been able to locate them instantly, they'd pretty much have the play area to themselves.
6. I know this is a common gripe. I know it's been done before. I'm sorry to harp on. But get your fucking teenager off the play area. My "slap-hand" was itching. A lot.
7. One teenager actually let me smallest down the slide ahead of him and I was so impressed and temporarily aghast that I actually squeezed his hand and smiled.
8. So now I am the weirdo mum who poaches middle-class teenagers at local family establishments.
9. Picnic etiquette. I like to see what everyone else has got. The family next to us had a bowl - like a proper big salad bowl- full of leaves, pomegranate and olives. They'd also brought a really rustic looking baguette too. They were well showing off. Their kids didn't eat it either, the wankers. You can tell I got really close to look into their bowl of delicatessen wonder. I tried to avoid eye contact for fear that they felt social fulfilment in their ridiculous picnic choice.
10. Kids just got onto sofa and a ton of fucking sand fell out.