Day two of summer holidays in the Ruby Doom house and it’s gone quiet. Too quiet.
Mum awoke late to discover that the conservatory had a liberal coating of glitter and PVA. Mum hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet. Open larder. Coffee is gone. Breathe. Breathe more. It’s ok, it’s just coffee. You can buy some more. When you go to the supermarket with both kids in tow without any coffee. No. It’s too early for wine. Make tea. Urgh.
Kids “clean” the glitter vomit from the room and are given standard homework books on maths, English & French. One page per day is the goal. Work completed with little fuss. Stickers issued.
Kids are given breakfast and ushered upstairs to get dressed while mum cleans out the fridge to prepare shopping list and picks up the iPad for inspiration on food for family (10 months of school dinners and being too tired to cook does weird things to you, like forgetting what an actual meal consists of)….
Only thing left is sausages. 12 between 6 of us. Sausage cake! (Toad in the hole to those of you who don’t have kids who take things literally and refuse to eat weird sounding food).
Why is it so quiet? What are they up to?
They’re in their room watching a science program on iPlayer. It’s not the tidiest room ever, but it’s quiet and they’re not destroying something. Seems I have some time to get on with things…
I’m loathe to start packing up their brownie camp stuff just yet. I’m still feeling a bit weird about them going off for six days without us. They’ve never been away from us for that long. Not even with family. I’ll admit here, I don’t really want them to go. But it’ll be so good for them and I’m not going to let them know that I’m freaking out about leaving them with essentially unknown people who could lose them or let them get hurt by not watching them enough. Says she who was letting them climb trees way higher than a parent should feel happy with yesterday.
I wonder how parents in the US deal with sending their kids off for weeks? Or people who’s kids board at school? It seems I am indeed a product of being an only child.