Accurately as the forecast predicted,the big cold has arrived.
It has been all week that our morning walks on the beach are accomp0anied by a sharp wind.
Winter jackets and gloves are out, and so are the woollen hats along with the long woollen socks to wear with the Wellington boots. Autumn has arrived in all its vibrant colours and with it even the mid-term break.
Since the school started after summer, the girls launched themselves in a sort of activities spree. Every day of the week there is something, Sunday included, and I feel I am spending my afternoon driving dropping waiting and collecting them. I am exhausted to the point that some day I am trying to convince them they are too tired to go to classes and reassure them that it is ok if they want for once to skip whatever activity is on that day. Unfortunately, like their mother, they are quite energetic and are rarely up to skip a lesson or whatever it is. So far, the weather was not much on my side either because it never rained and so all the outside sport carried on as schedule.When even my rain dance didn’t work, I tried to explain to the girls that all these extra activities will be too much by the end, in between this and school they will be too tired.
“Mom, you know when you said we might be tired of doing all these things?”, And here my expectations were growing. My speech had been successful, I thought. I was wrong, “We won’t really!”,they added.
Bitches! I had no other choice than spitting the ugly truth on their faces: “Well,you might no be tired but I am!You need to drop something that is it. We can’t have every afternoon engaged.”. Harsh and determined I went and they graciously agreed to quit one activity of their choice at the end of the term.
Friday before the mid term break has arrived and I can’t wait any longer to chill and skip schools runs and all the extra activities for a few days. I am already dreaming of my week of late pjs mornings and no hectic drivings, but before all this can become true, there is just one “little “thing left: The school Halloween disco.
This year daughter number one was even happy not to go, (too old and cool, she thinks) and I was nearly ready to open the wine and celebrate the joy of skipping what is the most close thing to living hell that a parent can experience.Thankfully I didn’t open that bottle yet as daughter number two has instead no intention of renounce to her two hours of loud music, sweat and dancing on a sticky floor.
The school Halloween disco 2018 proved to be no like others:
First I decided to ignore every request of help, and for the first time I will be a simple spectator and not a helper/supervisor; second and most important, or shocking, to use a more appropriate word, the travelling husband will be there. First time in eight years of primary school.
This year there was no business or hunting trip or not late meetings. Of course, the travelling husband did try to chance it and made his best to miss the early bus, but because I didn’t have to help, I didn’t have to be there earlier, and so we had all the time to wait for him!
Satiric jokes of all sort have been made about his presence at the disco and about how he would have survived it.
He didn’t! The Halloween disco left an indelible mark on his psyche, and for the first time in his life, he wished to be a smoker, to have the excuse to leave the room for a few minutes. Never mind if it meant to socialise and talk to some of the other parents he keeps asking who they are, even if they have been already introduced to him multiple time. So potentially I risked bringing to the party my grumpy smoke-free big bear and bringing home the Irish version of Yogi Bear instead.
After nearly two hours, that felt like two days, (I must give the husband that), a few parents started to leave with their kids and the organiser started to clean up, while a bunch of irreducible kids ,(included ours two and in particular the one who thought she was too cool and old to come), kept enjoying the dance floor. It was not time to go yet, but the signal was clear: we were nearly at the end of the agony.
Opposite the travelling husband, sat for the whole evening two other dads he didn’t know, and for real this time. For the entire duration of the event, they didn’t exchange a word or even a look but, suddenly , their eyes crossed and in perfect synchrony they checked their wristwatch. A silent countdown to 9 o clock started: three, two, one and the three men got up.They gathered their staff and their kids and waved at each other with complicity. They didn’t know each other and still don’t, but they were now bound together forever because they are all school Halloween disco survivors.
Where am I in all this? I’m sitting here just beside the travelling husband chatting away and keep an eye on him, and if any of you is wondering, yes, I still have the rose’ s thorn stack in my finger.
Have a spooky Halloween everybody👻