We’ve got to the 12 day mark now and as per usual I’m ready to go home. I know I sound like an ungrateful hag. I know I should be enjoying the last 2 days and NOT thinking about the packing, the return journey, the unpacking, the washing, the return to work. But I am – I’m a planner and an over-thinker and I can’t help it.
I don’t like being like this, I try to keep it hidden from the others so that they CAN enjoy the last two days but I keep finding myself wanting to talk about what we need to do when we get back.
The main topic at the forefront of my mind is Results Day on Thursday. I can’t really get my head much further than that and it’s really frustrating me. I keep thinking about Back To School things: shoes, clothes, bags, pencil cases – you know the drill. But we DON’T KNOW if T is going to sixth form or college. He’s been talking (unconsciously – not that he was unconscious but rather that he seemed to not be aware that he was saying it) about being “back at school” and “in sixth form” which makes me think he’s made his mind up about his preferred route, but it may not be his choice. On A level results day last Thursday the reality hit me that “this time next week we’ll know”. And I’ve not really been able to stop thinking about it since.
The rational part of me knows that thinking about it won’t change anything. Worrying isn’t going to make the results that have already been recorded (I would imagine?) change for the better (or worse!) and really all we can do is deal with whatever situation is thrown at us. But we all know that my head and the rational part of my brain don’t always communicate too well and so, inevitably, I’ve been worrying.
T and his friends have made a pact – no one asks what the others grades are. It will, they believe, be enough to know if they get on their preferred courses or not. It doesn’t need to be spelled out, mulled over, analysed, discussed at length. If they get to stay on (if that’s what they want) then they’ll know they’ve done enough. All very mature and all very sensible. He’s said that there’s one weak link in this chain and “if anyone tries to break the pact it will be W”. Or his mum, by asking me how T got on. It goes without saying that I will be proud whatever grades he gets. I just want them to be enough for him to do what he wants to do. He’s not headed for A level Maths followed by an unconditional offer to Cambridge University. He hadn’t put himself under so much pressure that his life will be over if he doesn’t get straight 9’s (I had to re-type that as I’d gone old school A*’s). He can resit any that he needs to. Life won’t be over, it just may take a bit longer to get started on what he wants to do next. We will deal with it together. I just wish we knew now.
I know on Wednesday morning when I am back at work and with piles of washing around me, I will kick myself for not staying relaxed, not enjoying these last few days, for wishing them away. But, hey, that’s me. And I’ve only got myself to blame!
In the meantime, there’s stuff to think about. Food for the journey home – does the airport have any where decent to eat? Will I remember how I packed the cases so that they’re not over the weight limit? Do we need more money to see us through to Tuesday? Have I nearly run out of gin?
And trying to relax…..