Surviving Summer (E14)

Day 24… approximately… ish:

Today I’m exhausted. It’s been an epic week of adulting and get-shit-done-ness. I’ve been sorting stuff for the upcoming term. Not the kids, hell no.. I’m way too disorganised for that. Sorting their new school term bits usually involves realising the night before that they need all the things, and running to the much-appreciated local 24-hour Asda at 3am to make it happen.

This week I’ve been slotting the last pieces of the puzzle together to make Oxford Uni happen come the autumn. I applied for a Masters course back in the spring, sort of on a whim- it’s my dream course in my dream institution. Education stuff.. with a view to eventually being solid enough in my field to help influence policy making and lecture on how to do research well. Hugely long term goal, obvs. Anyway, I had a shotgun interview with 24 hours notice and ended up getting an offer, which was awesome. Shit got real when I passed my current degree with a decent enough grade to meet the offer conditions, and I now find myself in a bizarrely surreal situation as an official Oxford postgrad student. All full time courses have a residency requirement which means I need to be up there for a few days each week in the term time. Cue frantic scrabble for finding somewhere to live. Thankfully I’m a-not particularly fussy, b-fairly laid back and c-MASSIVELY IMPATIENT, all excellent conducive qualities to getting shit done. As of this week I now have a term time only address in Oxford, complete with a huge dose of what-the-actual-fuck-am-I-doing and a nice side of plate-spinning.

I started my degree with the philosophy that I needed to give myself a shot. I’ve spent over a decade as a stay-at-home mum to my four beauts, which is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Stay-at-home mumming with typical kiddos is hard enough-hats off to all you incredible undervalued, underpaid and overworked ladies out there. You have my utmost respect. Add in a dash of complex needs extraordinaire and I feel lucky to have survived thus far with my sanity (mostly) in tact and my kids all still alive. Making the choice to go back to education and train in something I’m passionate about has been simultaneously a no-brainer and also hugely significant. It’s so. much. harder. Not because my brain is out of practice-thanks to the B-boy I’ve spent the last decade rivalling MI5 in my research capabilities. But because childcare for kids like B is non-existent. As parents we exist in a weird twilight zone; we’re expected to work and contribute but we have kids who need round the clock care and no services that provide it. Bearing in mind we’re more likely to end up as single parents, most of us end up working term time only jobs or not being physically able to work at all due to the care needs of our kids. I’m hugely thankful to have an excellent co-parent who partners with me in raising our kids. I want him to achieve his potential, and vice versa, so we choose to make this work. But seriously, the practical implications alone are enough to give up before you’ve started.

The kids have been awesome in all of it. Team players to the max. I never want them to be defined by their circumstance…. we never know what life card we’ll get dealt and they need to be solid enough in themselves to know their intrinsic worth outside of those cards. I’m constantly telling them with enough hard work and passion they can achieve most things, so to actively role model that for them feels awesome.

The school holidays are proving to be doable. Just. I’m counting down the days til September with a few highlights booked in here and there to get me through. Little Miss Mouth has exhausted the Dictionary Of Mad Questions To Drive Your Parents Insane and is now channelling her inner Socrates.

Most 8-year olds: What’s for dinner?
My 8-year old: Mum. Do you believe in God? I’m not sure how people do to be honest. I mean, if you know for sure that the people you make will do bad stuff, then why would you make them at all? Seems stupid to me. I don’t get it.

This. All the time. To be fair, the kid has an excellent point, but holy moly it’s exhausting. Teen Queen has been off social-butterflying; she has herself a lovely group of friends who will jet off on bikes for the day to go jump off piers, or play in woods, or catch crabs. All activities which are wholeheartedly recommended for 14-year olds, assuming the crabs are the brown ones in buckets, that is. We spent some Mummy-D time together yesterday hanging out in the woods and rope swinging- a most excellent choice of activity. I LOVE that she shares my sea-love; all those moany coastal toddler walks were definitely worth it!

The Drama Diva is headed off for a mini break to the grandparents today. She’ll fully appreciate the one to one time, and we’ll equally fully appreciate a quiet house. As good as she is, the child does not shut up- a constant source of tension in our already-chaotic household. The B-boy has been passed from pillar to post of late- we’re training up an excellent new carer who will take on some after schools come the autumn, and we’re generally trying to expand our B-village with lovely people who genuinely care for our boy. So far so good. He is pretty hard not to fall in love with.

So here I am. Wanting to make the world a better place for my boy and others like him on a bigger systems level. And trying not to lose my marbles in the process. I’m a thousand emotions all the time about life, but I think mostly right now it’s a combo of shit-your-pants scared, and enormously excited. Either way, I have to at least try. Where would the world be without the tryers..

Happy Sunny Sunday!

(PS: 17 days til September. 17 FREAKIN’ DAYS BABY!)