Sunday, 14 August 2011
Saturday, 13 August 2011
How To Survive The School Holidays.
I blogged at the beginning of July about the school holidays, well it's nearly time to go back......
On Tuesday Blaine will be returning to school after a mammoth 44 days off. 44 days of pure hell. Who decided that a nice big break during the "summer" would be a good idea?! Obviously not someone who works that's for sure. Working full-time and having to organise summer child-care is a pain in the arse. Living in a place with no family nearby who can help out is also a pain in the arse. School holidays are a pain in the arse.
They started fine, well except from the pissing on neighbours wall incident. I had the first 2 weeks off to "entertain" Blaine. Imogen was still in nursery, it was decided that this would be best as we don't want her being out of her routine. HA! What a load of bollocks. The truth is I wanted to try and get some peace from at least one of them.
Entertaining Blaine is an expense. I did consider remortgaging the house after the first couple of days activities - Soft Play, Science Museum, Lunch out - it was all getting a bit of an expense. So I looked at a much cheaper alternative - the park and those fab vouchers from Asda that give your kids free sports sessions. Sorted.
Then the good old Scottish summer weather started - rain, cold, wind. Braw. How to make the holidays even more horrific - provide weather so I can't boot his bum outside. Now he's inside and is bored. "I'm booooored" he wails. I offer a variety of things to do "play the DS; watch a DVD; play in your room; tidy your room; pain/draw;" but he doesn't want to do anything. He hates it all and he is bored. I'm considering selling him. Some days I did consider opening the wine at 8am.
We did have a couple of nice wee jaunts away. Remember Haven? Well we also had a few days in a lovely log cabin in Perth, Tom stayed up here to work and mum came along to help out with the kids. I ended the week with a night out so I could get bladdered - it was therapeutic.
When working full-time the school holidays are an almighty pain in the arse. Holiday Clubs were booked, I took 3 weeks off in total, Tom took 1 (?! - how is that fair!?) so our childcare bill rocketed. One day I spent £90 on childcare just so I could go to work - what was the fucking point. £90!? I bet Super Nanny is cheaper.
So here's my top tips for surviving the school holidays:
I cannot wait until Tuesday morning, he will be at the school gates bright and early. Blaine isn't as excited as I am. I have no idea why. When anyone asks him "Are you looking forward to going back to school?" I reply, with extreme excitement "Ohhhhhh yes! I can't wait!!" Blaine, on the other hand, mutters something like "no" but I ignore that. He will be going back and he will enjoy it.
Now I have to plan for the October Holidays. Sigh.
On Tuesday Blaine will be returning to school after a mammoth 44 days off. 44 days of pure hell. Who decided that a nice big break during the "summer" would be a good idea?! Obviously not someone who works that's for sure. Working full-time and having to organise summer child-care is a pain in the arse. Living in a place with no family nearby who can help out is also a pain in the arse. School holidays are a pain in the arse.
They started fine, well except from the pissing on neighbours wall incident. I had the first 2 weeks off to "entertain" Blaine. Imogen was still in nursery, it was decided that this would be best as we don't want her being out of her routine. HA! What a load of bollocks. The truth is I wanted to try and get some peace from at least one of them.
Entertaining Blaine is an expense. I did consider remortgaging the house after the first couple of days activities - Soft Play, Science Museum, Lunch out - it was all getting a bit of an expense. So I looked at a much cheaper alternative - the park and those fab vouchers from Asda that give your kids free sports sessions. Sorted.
Then the good old Scottish summer weather started - rain, cold, wind. Braw. How to make the holidays even more horrific - provide weather so I can't boot his bum outside. Now he's inside and is bored. "I'm booooored" he wails. I offer a variety of things to do "play the DS; watch a DVD; play in your room; tidy your room; pain/draw;" but he doesn't want to do anything. He hates it all and he is bored. I'm considering selling him. Some days I did consider opening the wine at 8am.
We did have a couple of nice wee jaunts away. Remember Haven? Well we also had a few days in a lovely log cabin in Perth, Tom stayed up here to work and mum came along to help out with the kids. I ended the week with a night out so I could get bladdered - it was therapeutic.
When working full-time the school holidays are an almighty pain in the arse. Holiday Clubs were booked, I took 3 weeks off in total, Tom took 1 (?! - how is that fair!?) so our childcare bill rocketed. One day I spent £90 on childcare just so I could go to work - what was the fucking point. £90!? I bet Super Nanny is cheaper.
So here's my top tips for surviving the school holidays:
- Save up. About £5k should cover the amount of shit you have to buy to keep your little darlings entertained.
- Stock up. On wine/vodka/gin. It will help.
- Give up work for 6 weeks - I'm sure all your employers will accept this. Ha fucking ha. Or become a teacher.
- Hire a nanny/cleaner/cook - much needed unless you want to have a breakdown.
I cannot wait until Tuesday morning, he will be at the school gates bright and early. Blaine isn't as excited as I am. I have no idea why. When anyone asks him "Are you looking forward to going back to school?" I reply, with extreme excitement "Ohhhhhh yes! I can't wait!!" Blaine, on the other hand, mutters something like "no" but I ignore that. He will be going back and he will enjoy it.
Now I have to plan for the October Holidays. Sigh.
Friday, 12 August 2011
Kid's Birthday Parties. Pass the vodka.
Blaine turned 6 recently - woohoo and all that - an exciting day for him. I can't believe he's been on this world for 6 years and that he's not put me in some kind of mental institution. Surely this is even more of a reason to celebrate!? Every year we organise a party to make this fine occasion.
For his 1st birthday party we had a small, quiet "do" at home and I swore I would never do it again. Ever. It was just horrific. The house had to get tidied before people arrived, why I do not know as the place was trashed when they left. Tom even power washed the patio before the family arrived, so it would look nice. Balloons and banners were carefully stuck to the walls and garden fence. I spent the morning cooking, cleaning and attempting to keep Blaine clean. A small buffet was put on, complete with HUGE Mr Men cake proclaiming "I AM 1" and the family came over, played a few games, spoiled Blaine rotten, destroyed my house and left. Leaving me cleaning up food from walls, putting copious amounts of paper in the bin and eating left over cold pizza. I think I consumed a good bottle of wine once a hyper Blaine was finally in bed.
I'm not a mum who can organise fab parties at home, I don't have the room, the patience or the desire. I would rather stick pins in my eyes. It's just a fucking nightmare. Screeching children, breaking things, spilling drinks, squashing random crap into the carpets and terrorising the cats. No thank you. The aftermath is even worse, it takes approximately a week to recover - finding squashed pizza and crisps in random places, the cats are admitted to the local Vet Hospital with stress and my wage is spent on vodka to recover.
It was after this small party that we made the decision that all future parties would not be held at home. Never ever again. So all his subsequent parties have been in soft play or some other similar establishment. They go there, run about like loons, get hyper, get fed, play a game, eat and go home. All I have to do is turn up, watch, then go home and open the wine - leaving the place look like a riot has just happened, but its OK as it's not my problem.
This year Blaine decided he wanted to go Tubing for his birthday. For those not acquainted with "Tubing" I will explain. Basically it's held at a ski slope (dry ski slope in out case) and the kids haul a big rubber ring to the top of a bendy slope, sit on it and get flung down. I sit and watch. Easy peasy. So we book and send out all the invites. 10 boys. 10 hyper boys. How much fun will this be? Loads for the kids, none for me.
The day dawned, Blaine was hyper. It was a lovely sunny day in Aberdeen, we head to the ski centre with our long sleeved top, trousers and gloves - perfect summer attire. The boys all arrive. They get a helmet plonked on them. Then they decide that wrestling on the grass is much more exciting than tubing. The instructor looks on in dismay as the boys jump on each other, screaming, shouting - it was at this point I really wish I'd brought some vodka with me.
Eventually we round them up and they go off to the slope to do some Tubing. Up and down they flee - shouting, screaming, basically making a lot of noise. Some dad's had a shot too - including Tom, I was a tad worried he might have some kinda heart attack climbing the steps with the heavy rubber ring, but then I remembered I'm covered by Life Insurance - so stopped worrying and encouraged his "exercise".
An hour later and they are all exhausted, so it's time for food. Into the party room we go. I'm stupidly thinking these 10 little boys will be exhausted, so meal time should be fine. How wrong was I. 10 boys sitting round one table - it was like a Chimpanzee Tea Party. Complaints of "I don't want sandwiches, I just want sweeties" and "I don't like ham, I want cheese" started buzzing round the room. Crisps started getting flung about, then they started running around a tiny room. Sigh. I decided to play a couple of games "Pass The Parcel" - a very easy game to play. Getting 10 boys to sit on their arse on a chair is not so easy. After a lot of bribery thewee gits lovely children are all seated and the game begins. But they decide they don't want to "Pass" any parcel, instead they are flinging it about like it's a bomb. A change of rules enters - if they don't touch it they are put out. This makes them pass it in a more normal fashion and the game commences. The prize is a Whoopee Cushion - I'm sure the boys mother was thrilled as she watched in horror as the boys jumped up and down on the cushion and pissed themselves laughing as they "farted". Yes, hysterical for a 6 year old I'm sure. Irritating for an adult.
After the game the cake arrives, they "sing" Happy Birthday - well I say sing, it more a shouty, screeching noise. The candle is blown out and party bags are handed out. It's now time to leave. I usher the little darlings out rather quickly. The quicker I get them out the quicker I can get home and crack open the wine.
The boys all declared they had a great time and are now pestering their parents to hold their party in the same place. I'm sure the parents are really thrilled with this idea after having just witnessed the hell of hyper 6 year olds.
Next year he's going to the cinema with 1 friend. His dad can take them. I will celebrate his birthday at home. With my friend Mr Vodka.
For his 1st birthday party we had a small, quiet "do" at home and I swore I would never do it again. Ever. It was just horrific. The house had to get tidied before people arrived, why I do not know as the place was trashed when they left. Tom even power washed the patio before the family arrived, so it would look nice. Balloons and banners were carefully stuck to the walls and garden fence. I spent the morning cooking, cleaning and attempting to keep Blaine clean. A small buffet was put on, complete with HUGE Mr Men cake proclaiming "I AM 1" and the family came over, played a few games, spoiled Blaine rotten, destroyed my house and left. Leaving me cleaning up food from walls, putting copious amounts of paper in the bin and eating left over cold pizza. I think I consumed a good bottle of wine once a hyper Blaine was finally in bed.
I'm not a mum who can organise fab parties at home, I don't have the room, the patience or the desire. I would rather stick pins in my eyes. It's just a fucking nightmare. Screeching children, breaking things, spilling drinks, squashing random crap into the carpets and terrorising the cats. No thank you. The aftermath is even worse, it takes approximately a week to recover - finding squashed pizza and crisps in random places, the cats are admitted to the local Vet Hospital with stress and my wage is spent on vodka to recover.
It was after this small party that we made the decision that all future parties would not be held at home. Never ever again. So all his subsequent parties have been in soft play or some other similar establishment. They go there, run about like loons, get hyper, get fed, play a game, eat and go home. All I have to do is turn up, watch, then go home and open the wine - leaving the place look like a riot has just happened, but its OK as it's not my problem.
This year Blaine decided he wanted to go Tubing for his birthday. For those not acquainted with "Tubing" I will explain. Basically it's held at a ski slope (dry ski slope in out case) and the kids haul a big rubber ring to the top of a bendy slope, sit on it and get flung down. I sit and watch. Easy peasy. So we book and send out all the invites. 10 boys. 10 hyper boys. How much fun will this be? Loads for the kids, none for me.
The day dawned, Blaine was hyper. It was a lovely sunny day in Aberdeen, we head to the ski centre with our long sleeved top, trousers and gloves - perfect summer attire. The boys all arrive. They get a helmet plonked on them. Then they decide that wrestling on the grass is much more exciting than tubing. The instructor looks on in dismay as the boys jump on each other, screaming, shouting - it was at this point I really wish I'd brought some vodka with me.
Eventually we round them up and they go off to the slope to do some Tubing. Up and down they flee - shouting, screaming, basically making a lot of noise. Some dad's had a shot too - including Tom, I was a tad worried he might have some kinda heart attack climbing the steps with the heavy rubber ring, but then I remembered I'm covered by Life Insurance - so stopped worrying and encouraged his "exercise".
An hour later and they are all exhausted, so it's time for food. Into the party room we go. I'm stupidly thinking these 10 little boys will be exhausted, so meal time should be fine. How wrong was I. 10 boys sitting round one table - it was like a Chimpanzee Tea Party. Complaints of "I don't want sandwiches, I just want sweeties" and "I don't like ham, I want cheese" started buzzing round the room. Crisps started getting flung about, then they started running around a tiny room. Sigh. I decided to play a couple of games "Pass The Parcel" - a very easy game to play. Getting 10 boys to sit on their arse on a chair is not so easy. After a lot of bribery the
After the game the cake arrives, they "sing" Happy Birthday - well I say sing, it more a shouty, screeching noise. The candle is blown out and party bags are handed out. It's now time to leave. I usher the little darlings out rather quickly. The quicker I get them out the quicker I can get home and crack open the wine.
The boys all declared they had a great time and are now pestering their parents to hold their party in the same place. I'm sure the parents are really thrilled with this idea after having just witnessed the hell of hyper 6 year olds.
Next year he's going to the cinema with 1 friend. His dad can take them. I will celebrate his birthday at home. With my friend Mr Vodka.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)