Give us a break, Thursday. Please.

Thursdays are the new Fridays? Hardly. Not for parents. And definitely not for grumpy parents. Thursdays are like every single long parenting day rolled into one highly pressurised combustable package. They’re beyond a joke, Thursdays.

The morning:

#1 kid is in bits. Has lost memory stick and therefore world will end. Must go into school early today: needs a lift.
#2 kid still sick. Comes in with a written record of every time she was awake in the night and what her symptoms were. Demands I stay at home today.
#3 kid doesn’t want to be in the play anymore that the whole family has bought tickets to. Also – doesn’t want chicken sandwiches for her packed lunch, wants me to cook pasta pesto. Reminds me that she asked yesterday and I said yes. Have no recollection. Nod.
#Work WhatsApp’s start pinging in – can’t keep up. Miss another message telling me flute is off.
#Drive #1 kid to school in a strop because we are 8 mins later than her very tight schedule, which was number 2’s fault. Or mine. Or both. Have to sit in car and write an unconvincing note to PE teacher that child has bad ankle and can’t do PE. Want to write “bad attitude” but realise child will read note.
#Get stuck in traffic on way home.
#Make packed lunch for #3 kid and #2 kid because number 2 is off sick again and I’m going to work.
#Take number three to school, polite nod with all the mums at the gate, who stare as I’m clearly wearing pyjamas and a jacket with winter boots.
#Get home to sickly kid, give her packed lunch, reading books, water, tissues, she gets a nosebleed, more tissues, colouring books and phone charger. She cries.
#Run for train, no makeup on, work WhatsApp’s still going haven’t had time to read any. #3minutes to get the train.
#Make it. Sit down. I’m broken. It’s 9.09am

It’s 3.30pm:

#I’m in a meeting watching the phone ring. It’s the drama teacher. I make my excuse for the loo and pop out to return the call. She wonders where the third child is. Third child is at flute lesson. She’ll be going to drama once she’s finished flute.
#Except there’s no flute. I remember now. I desperately dispatch back-up to fetch her.
#I’ll be on the train soon if I’m lucky. If this meeting doesn’t run over any more than the 30 minutes already over.
Assuming the connection is on time I should get home in time to put the fish pie that I already made in the oven and get the veg ready.
#Then I have parent’s evening for child 2.
#Must remember to take child 1 to swimming, on the way to child 2 going to parent’s evening. It’s not going to work.
#Call for backup.
#Need to collect #1 from swimming and take her to cadets.
#Need to go back and meet daddy and number 2 from parents evening and take them home.
#Somewhere in this period I need to collect the other kid from drama. I’ve no idea how, as I’ll be at parents evening. Or cadets. Or maybe somewhere between the two.
#Call for backup. Again.
#Later, once the younger kids are in bed, I’m going to an evening class on parenting. After that we’ll pick up the eldest from cadets.
#If I’m very lucky I’ll fall asleep before #1 kid, without dropping my phone on my face. Then it all starts again tomorrow with double-bass Friday, the day I cart the world’s most ridiculously sized ‘portable instrument’ to school!

#suburbanproblems #grumpyparentproblems #firstworldproblems

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