The start of a new school year, or a return to school/work after a break, is always hard. Part of me relishes getting back into a routine, knowing where we will all be at what times. The control freak/organiser in me likes it. But, there is another part of me that fights it. Fights against early starts and school runs and homework and nagging. (There’s always an element of nagging – empty your bin, bring down your dirty washing, wash the ten million cups up that you have in your room, to name but a few.)
Conversations are no longer about nice things: plans for long sunny days out with their friends, holidays, fun stuff. The sorts of conversations we have now are about lessons, homework, food tech ingredients that are needed the next day, clean uniform, lack of socks, text books, showers, whose turn it is to clear the table and wash up. God, its boring. I ask “how was your day” and get grunts. Before it was “good, fun, really great”.
So, I’ve been mentally fighting it. Moaning. Being grumpy. Shouting (once). This has not been productive – you can’t fight something that is inevitable. It won’t last forever. Socks will be bought, teachers will settle down, homework won’t seem so alien and difficult, I will get back into the swing of asking for the food tech list the week before so it is all purchased well in advance – to avoid the last minute dash around Tesco’s, praying that they have some wooden skewers loitering around in a small section of leftover BBQ season stock, when in actual fact they have the Christmas stuff in already and BBQ season is long forgotten. (I did find some with the help of a kind member of staff who could see I was nearly losing the will to live).
I need to stop wishing the week days away. I find myself saying in emails to suppliers or messages to friends “nearly the weekend” or “halfway through”, wishing my days away so we can all have some time out, do something more fun than sitting at a desk or driving to and from school and work, back to school and home again. And repeat.
The danger then of course is that everything hinges on the weekend being brilliant, which is unreasonable. I hate the Sunday night regret – that we should have done more, gone somewhere nice, had more fun, made more of it, been nicer to each other. Another weekend gone, never to be revisited.
I need to stop. Stop fighting it, start making the most of it.