I know that school holidays have begun, and so this note may be a little bit late. Are you still there, Office?
The end of term was a little stressful again.
The children keep demanding food, and more food, and more food, until I feel like a short-order cook with a terrible Workplace Agreement.
The mornings start well (this is a lie) but very quickly it all goes wrong.
I just can’t quite reach where I need to be.
I get there in the end, but the method is strange and awkward.
My methods are degrading for the children too.
Not that they notice. They are often engaged in some kind of inventive sibling warfare anyway.
They frequently employ the phrase ‘penis-gina’. Also ‘Fly me to Poo-Poo Land.’
Last week, T-Bone even came in the room with a handful of undies, threw them in the air and shouted ‘It’s a Panty Festival!” Yes, he used that word. It was like he kicked me right in my soft underbelly.
Feeding, washing and wrestling these kids off to school in the last week of term feels like battling through jelly. I think I’ve got one all clean and packed up, and another paints their shirt with a handful of Vegemite. At least I hope it is Vegemite. And through it all, I wail like a hopeless balladeer: ’Where is your reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaader???’
Compounding the situation, my back hurts.
And then: menses.
Office, all I want to do is complain to my mother on the phone.
And maybe get out for the night with my friends.
Just an innocent night out.
Blow off a little steam.
Recharge for the term ahead.
A term in which, Office, I promise to be organised, efficient and punctual.
Until then, my apologies (again.)