With only one week to go before the threat of the Summer Hellidays became a grave, grave reality, Mummy decided she’d better start busying herself with all the things she’d been putting off since September. She started by digging a grave for herself (or indeed for the purpose of temporary “time out” for any Terror Tot who chose to play up), dusting off her Black Cloak (behind which she was planning to hide for six weeks) and polishing her Scythe (with which she plotted to scare off anyone who displayed any evidence of joy). All timely preparations for the mass onslaught that was about to ensue, so she thought?
It seemed, however, that all the Other Mums in the Entire Universe were less than bothered about the six week offensive that was upon them and more bothered about what their cyber friends on social media were up to. All it took was one Mum’s painstakingly edited image comparing her kiddo’s first and last day at school and the result was: VIRAL. They were all at it. Mummy’s newsfeed had been hijacked with other people’s polished and pampered kids, poised for the perfect graduation shot.
Mummy couldn’t argue with the nostalgic sentiments that were on display here. Even she felt dewy-eyed at the prospect of her Terror Tween’s imminent graduation from Junior School. But Mummy had clearly missed a trick here. Where the hell were her “first and last” photos? Had she even bothered to capture those #preciousmemories all those years ago? Trying to locate one specific image from out of the ten thousand taken over a seven year period, was too much for Mummy’s fuzzy brain to contend with. Perhaps this was what all the Other Mums in the Entire Universe had been busying themselves with since September? Or perhaps they were all cheating at life and creating fake news with some cool reversal of the Age App combined with Photoshop and Piccolage. Either which way, this was Epic Mum fail number 11,367. Mummy had missed the mark yet again. She had failed at Motherhood.
However, there was still just enough time to redeem herself. She had been practising at this Motherhood lark for eleven years now, surely she could still pull it out of the bag? One week was plenty of time with which to release enough iPhone storage to capture the “perfect leaver’s shot” (not to mention a camera-roll full of the gazillion other “non share-worthy” photos). One week would give her enough time to psyche herself up for all the commotion – the signed shirts, the leavers’ assembly, the awards, the reports, the songs, the stagnant PE kits, overflowing school bags, personalised presents, cards…words…tears….and emotion. Wait, did someone say emotion? Was one week going to give Mummy enough time to prepare herself mentally for “emotion?” Mummy wasn’t convinced she was ready for emotion. Who the hell had time for tears when there was six weeks of activities to plan, 10 suitcases to pack, 42 picnic lunches to prepare, 126 healthy snacks to buy, discounted uniform to order, stationery supplies to replenish and feet to measure, all in time for September?
Battle plans resumed. Mummy took a deep breath and committed to making some #goodchoices herself for a change. She decided to sod the “healthy” part of “snacks” and feed them trash on demand during the six week onslaught. And as for graduation, she bought herself some Kleenex with Aloe Vera, to soften the blow. That should cover it.
Everything was now under control. Mummy still had one whole week to go, so she made herself a nice brew, slipped into her Cloak and began reading her new book.