I cannot let go of Christmas! I’ll roll these ditties out all year long!
(Wrong somehow, to picture someone rolling out their ditties all year long)
Anyway, it is the night before school.
I actually have four sleeping babes, all washed and smelling sweet. The girls have all had haircuts. I wouldn’t say they had it done by a professional but definitely a talented hair stylist. (Catch me at the school gates tomorrow for all in earshot, ‘YES THEY CUT THEIR HAIR THEMSELVES! LITTLE TIKES’ *Death glare to each child should they consider betraying me*)
I try, I really do, to be on top of things. 6pm I headed upstairs to hang out their uniforms, from knickers to cardigan, everything they need in one safe place. No need to rifle through the piles of clean clothes that adorn every surface in this house tomorrow, Mum is at the top of her game.
So there I am feeling like the mum-est of mums when I clock Lola’s pinafore.
For the love of our Lord Paul O’grady what is all over Lola’s pinafore.
The comprehensive list;
Felt tip, Yogurt, snot, the distinct stench of stale urine.
Which absolute waste of space hung the pinafore in the wardrobe in this state. Narrowing it down it could only have been me or the other half. The wardrobe is too tall for the girls to hang their things up and why would they take it into their heads to do that anyway.
I am loathe to admit, it would also be a miracle if my other half waltzed (he does waltz, and he minces) into their room and started merrily bustling about hanging up clothes.
So there we go, it was me. I’m the failure.
Two weeks of holidays and I can’t wash a pinafore.
So here I am 10’o clock trying to dry a pinafore that should have long been waiting patiently smelling of lavender or hibiscus fabric softener and now all that’s left is the bitter stench of ‘can’t I catch a frigging break?!’.
On the plus side I get to do the school run 3 times tomorrow. So there’s that.