They are now both back at school. All I’ve failed to do in that regard is remember to buy leggings that finish lower than mid calf so not bad really.
The kids acted as expected. The youngest didn’t want to go but “it was alright really”; the eldest was ridiculously excited to go back to learning maths and science and irritated that no-one has given her an extra curricular timetable (which doesn’t even exist as a thing). She’s also been trying to put her name down for the end of year 8 musical and it’s only day 2.
So as a result I’ve had my first day alone for ages. It went as expected to really. I walked to the dentist, lied about how much I floss and then realised I’d left my purse at home. Then I stood in a queue at the sorting office as if it was Christmas and following that spent a couple of hours , washing clothes and other chores, practising musical instruments and attempting to write a short story. All fairly uneventful.
Of course new term, new attempt to be healthy, so an hour ago I started making stuffed peppers. I couldn’t get the lid off the sun dried tomatoes and nearly jettisoned them across the room. I then got the lid off the sunflower oil rather too easily, tried to push it back on and squirted myself in the eye, face and hair with the oil. I swore. When the kids came to help me I tried to remain calm while wondering if you can go blind from getting oil in your eye. Tilly tried to squirt me in the eye with her water bottle which failed spectacularly. I got in the shower and hoped for the best.
P asked me if I was ok. I replied that I thought I was but that I was a bit worried about the floor which was covered in oil. I then mused aloud that you needed soap to cling to oil. “Washing up liquid?” P asked as she left the room hastily. I tried to assure myself that they were helping, while rinsing my hair for the fourth time .
On the fifth application of shampoo I heard a shout suggesting the kids needed help. I replied with my usual “I can’t hear you”. P appeared and said in a very measured way “we could do with a hand when you are free”. Oh boy.
On entering the kitchen I was taken back to the one foam party I attended whilst at university. Apparently they squirted washing up liquid on the floor, then the eldest one decided to throw water on top of it. We spent the next half an hour mopping up soapy water (and the oil they had inevitably missed altogether) with tea towels. The floor is wooden not tile, and I’m fairly confident is now damaged at the joins. Despite this I have been remarkably calm throughout and feel I deserve some kind of reward. Then I made dinner – let’s hope it’s edible.
Ah well, back to the usual chaos.