Then Suddenly, The School Gods Did Smile Upon Them.

And did call up Mrs MBM yesterday, and grant Noah a place at the same school as his brother in the new year.

And thus, the brothers were to attend school together, in the same building and Mrs MBM did contemplate cutting down on drinking, after a celebratory liqor.

The Gods did choose to smile upon Mrs MBM and co, though Mrs MBM wondered if the joy of Christmas would still go ahead as now all pennies to be squandered upon Christmas cheer, were now to be willing given to Clive Marks Schoolwear for a whole new uniform.

Lo, Noah did graciously and calmly accept the fate of leaving his 2nd school this year, for Noah is a cool and laid-back child, thus. For this, his mother was glad.

And so, Mrs MBM did weep a little, but was immensely thankful to no-longer refrain from yelling obscenities at people who did not move the fuck out of the way when whizzing from one school to the next each morning.

Mrs MBM and co did thank The Very Gods for their graciousness. And then she did contemplate ways to sell her soul to pay for the new year.

And so it was, a merry Christmas.

Damn you, School Run. Damn you to HELL.

When we managed to get Noah into a school which is 30 seconds up the road, rather than one 15 minutes away from the school Isaac was in, I confessed I breathed a sigh of relief. I was all, “Fuck yeah!! The two schools are now minutes apart, and I’ve got a whole 15 minutes to get from one to the next! PISS EASY.”

I what a stupid naive asshat I am.

Turns out, I forgot to account for getting to and from the car, yelling at them to get in and out the car, being able to get in and out of the car parks, finding somewhere to park, and of course, the sprint from car to door to car to door. It’s good fun.

No, really.

And with it being snowy and frosty and shit, instead of driving with normal care and consideration, everyone’s all “WTF BITCH! I AM SO NOT LETTING YOU OUT OF THAT SPACE, FUCK OFF I HAVE PLACES TO GO!!!!!”

Well, not quite, but the adamant look on their faces, and the crazy honking of horns suggests the above.

This morning I’ve made it on time, as usual, by the sheer luck of the gods. I dunno which  gods, but certainly one of them. I confess as I dropped off Isaac and was trying to get out to get to Noah’s school, I nearly hit 2 other cars whom I didn’t see while I was reversing out. Why didn’t I see them? Because they didn’t have their lights on (IT’S DARK AND FOGGY FOR FUCK’S SAKE!) and they seem to forget that 30mph through the car park isn’t acceptable (UH – HELLO? YOUR CHILD WALKS THROUGH THAT CAR PARK. GOOD LUCK EXPLAINING TO THEM WHY THE FUCK YOU MOWED THEM DOWN.)

I’m eternally thankful for the school run I did last year while the boys were at the private school; it taught me so much on how to not lose my marbles around people. It also helped that the boys were going to the same frigging building, I could do the run in one go, and I wasn’t expected to do it again until the end of the school day. Plus, parent attitudes, kids behaviour, blah blah usual crap.

I fucking hate the school run at the moment. I would sooner do the 30 minute journey I was doing last year, than this super stressy bull-shit, trying to make sure they don’t get into trouble from staff, or be That Kid Who Is Always Late, or as was the case recently, having to literally run Noah across streets and the playground to get to the line up in time for the bell, to have him exhausted already and begging for a drink. It’s just not right.

The waiting game continues. I need to seriously up my wedding photography game, hoping and praying I book enough weddings to meet goals and the like in the next 18 months. Noah stays put until a space opens up at the school Isaac currently attends. We’re desperate for them to be in their original school, for a trillion reasons. They deserve the absolute best I can give them, and I’d like to not be the mom who’s holding back the tears every fucking morning, wondering how the hell we got to this situation and trying to figure out what I need to do to make it better.

It does get better, I’m sure of it. This story being written is no story of mine, not if this school run is anything to go by.

Pwned.

Last Thursday, we had a letter from County Council A saying they had spoken to County Council B and found a space for Noah in one of the schools we originally wanted. The school is in County Council B. However it was County Council A who wrote to us. We haven’t heard from County Council B in a while. Anyway, I inform current school (in County Council A) that Noah has a place at a closer school, and will be moving at half-term. Huzzah!

So yesterday, we phone up the new school (in County Council B) and they tell us they know nothing of the situation.

Errrrrrrrrrrr say whut now?

The Mr speaks to them again today, this time armed with The Letter From County Council A, and tells the school all we know. Turns out, the school are fine with this, even though they knew nothing about it. Which makes me wonder; if that’s the case, why couldn’t they just take him in the first place, back when we applied, phoned and wrote to them repeatedly in September?

Anyhoo, Noah has a school much closer to home.

Unfortunately, it’s still not the same school as Isaac. And because they are a different County Council (Isaac is currently County Council A, Noah will be in County Council B), it also means their school holidays are different. So where I was hoping to spend some “proper time” with both of them over half term before launching myself back into full time work, instead we will all be pretty much going straight through until Christmas. Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

I’ve calculated that if I keep booking weddings at this rate, we may be able to get them back into the safety and sanity of private school by 2014/15. If I suddenly become SUPER AWESOME, it could even be 2013/14. But I might still have to sell a body part.

And then, because Monday is a fucking douche nozzle and seems to have spilled over into Tuesday, my phone died yesterday. It buzzed non stop for about 3 minutes, then turned itself off and refused to switch back on. Before I had backed everything up. And just after I had told a load of potential clients to give me a call. After procrastinating and being horribly skint and staring forlornly at my bank account, I had stern words with my network supplier and made them do me a half decent deal on a new phone.

And then this morning my phone turned itself back on, completely out of the blue.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKADOO.

In other news, I reckon I’m going to save myself some petrol over the next few months, eh?

I TRIED. Urgh.

Child 1: “I HATE YOU! I don’t like you!”

Child 2: *raises hand in a “talk to this” style*

Parent of child 1: “OI. Do you want a smack? You SHUT IT!”

Child running away from parent.

Parent of child: “OI! C’MERE YER LITTLE SHIT!” She looks around. “Oops, I mean, YER LITTLE SOD!”

Child running across grass.

Parent of child: “GEORGE! STOP BLOODY RUNNING AWAY AND GET YOURSELF ERE NOW!”

I have no idea if this is acceptable to hear for most parents and children out there. The above were three different incidents, albeit small incidents, heard at Noah’s school in the space of 2 days. I have watched children run out in front of cars in the car park, whilst the parent stood by and shouted (rather than actually chasing them, or even better, keeping a hold on them in the first place).

On Noah’s first day, he told me of a little boy who was spitting at him. Obviously I asked him if he mentioned it to the teacher; he had done. The child had continued, but apparently stopped after a little while. Another child in the playground, every single pick up and drop off, is riding a scoot-bike (no pedals), and repeatedly rams into parents and children. He’s hit Isaac numerous times. The mother, stood very close by, does nothing to stop him.

Maybe, just maybe, I set my standards too high. Maybe, I expect to much of youngsters at school (all of the above incidents were with children who could not have been older than 6). Maybe I am indeed a snob, and should learn to accept some kind of regular way of life.

The thing is, I can’t tolerate what I’m seeing. It grates me. It leaves me cold. It makes me cross. I scream repeatedly on the inside. Every single morning and afternoon, I literally run in and out of the school as fast as possible with the boys. I know, I know, we can’t live in a bubble. They have to “experience real life”. I get that. However, there are things I do not want my children exposed to, because it is not a way of life. Not in our house. Not ever.

I knew I had a sinking feeling about the school when we first took Noah, and at the time I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. As we have completed the first week, and starting the second, my desperation to get him the hell out as soon as possible, is making me physically sick. Every single day, I hope and pray to the Gods of The County Councils, that they will phone or write and say that a space is available for Noah at one of the nearer schools. All of which, are gorgeous and lovely and perfect.

I know and trust that Noah is an incredibly sound and level headed boy. I know he has a surprising amount of common sense, and he knows what is right and wrong. But that doesn’t make me feel happy knowing he is exposed to the crap such as that above. I shout and swear a lot. A whole lot. But NEVER, NEVER in front of my children. Or in front of other people’s children. Or in the goddamn school playground; an environment supposedly safe for parents and children alike. (In theory.)

A letter arrived today confirming Noah’s placement on another waiting list at a nearby school. The three schools near us – he is now listed for them all. We have reached the point where there is nothing, nothing more I can do. The school run will continue to try and grind me down, and through the winter I can only hope I make it through without being crushed by depression. I hang on desperately to the fact that I’m booking my weddings next year, with some booked for 2014 already. The hope is getting the boys back into private education by 2014/15.

I just want the absolute best for them. And right now, what I’m giving them sure as hell is not good enough.

And now I need to be happy about it.

Hmmm. Having spent much of the summer holidays freaking the fuck out, I decided to call the school for which Noah was 1st on the list AGAIN on Friday. Hoping for an update. They advised us that someone else and moved into the area closer to the school than ourselves, and so therefore they are at the top now. We asked about appealing; so far NO ONE has ever won an appeal. Shortly after that conversation, I spent a good few moments crying and throwing up.

Wondering if I would EVER get Noah into a school, Worcester County Council advised me to phone up schools myself to find out. Yay! Awesome! Cheers for that! Good to know you can do your job, Worcester! WELL DONE.

That afternoon, we trekked over to a small village about 7 miles, to the only school anywhere near us with spaces. As of last Friday, around 4:30pm, both of my boys finally had a school to go to. YAY! Small problem. It’s 7. Miles. Away. Even better, it’s not even the same school which Isaac is at. That’s 2 miles away. And not even in the same direction.

We walked around, the secretary talked my ear off, Noah prodded and pointed at everything, and talked to the last of the staff who were still there. They seemed lovely, the school seems lovely, everything seems nice…but all weekend I have had this horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea how to make this work, and the sense of overwhelming panic is scaring me shitless.

I wasn’t going to blog this morning, but I have woken up with a fear so bad, I could happily go and empty my stomach. I’ve had weird dizzy spells and flushes over the last 2 months, and this morning everything feels even worse. Everything should be fine; everything should be sorted now. And yet I have this unease.

I’ve looked at the timings, and the school run, and routes, and I have no idea how I am going to make this work. Isaac’s gates open at 8:30. Unfortunately, for the whole of Isaac’s first week last week, they never once opened on time, instead opening between 8:35 and 8:40. Interestingly, Noah’s school starts at 8:40, and he must be there by 8:50. The drive from one school to the other is approximately 17 minutes.

I’m hoping I’m just being thick, but the maths here tells me that’s not possible to accomplish without one or the other being very late.

So the obvious solution is to send Isaac to the same nursery as his brother, eh?

No can do. They only operate half day; I cannot afford the petrol or time to drop Noah off, come home, go back to drop off Isaac (they only have afternoons available) come home, then go back at the end of the day to pick them both up.

Sitting here with The Smalls playing in front of me; I am currently on the verge of what I think might be a panic attack. All I want to do is cry, throw up and stop myself from shaking rather a lot.

I can’t see how I am going to do this for a year. I can’t see how it is going to work. I don’t understand how I will get any work done, by pretty much driving back and forth, waiting in car parks and screaming at traffic. I understand there are plenty of other parents who deal with this situation, but I am not one of them. For me this isn’t just about The Smalls being in school; this is all about having no idea about how the fuck I am going to fit everything into the 19 hour window currently available to me. 19 hours is LOADS of time!! (Said in my best Nanny Plum voice) Unfortunately, most of that time is wasted and lost, and the actual number of those hours spent working, happen well beyond 11pm.

I have a fear. I fear I will break. I fear I will lose track, be unable to do everything and just break. The sense of panic is right there, in my stomach, and I have to make a conscious effort to breathe firmly and stop it from rising. I know I can write to-do lists until they come out of my ears; but I know I will let The Smalls down at some point; get something spectacularly wrong; forget something essential, be late every single day…this was not the start I wanted for my children.

I worked hard for the best start I could, and instead I’ve failed them. They’re in schools miles apart (Isaac spent the first week being tearful when he realised he wasn’t with me or Noah), one of them will always be late, I don’t know how to keep working on top of it all, I don’t see when I am to spend time with them, I can’t afford the petrol (there is no school transport service), I am bound to pack their bags wrong and I am panicking.

And this scenario would appear to be the case for the next year. But it’s ok, because I’m happy about it. Right?