Wednesday, 17 April 2013

School bag roulette

I try to minimise the impact of my general ineptitude on my son’s life.

It is possible for me to be very well organised, my holiday spreadsheet protocol is a ridiculous example of that, but it is also possible to find myself suddenly on the ground from a standing position, or forget where I put the keys I have in my hand.

But I desperately try not to let these things affect my parenting, in fact, I try to use them to enhance it, a spirit of humour is very much an essential ingredient in the omelette of child rearing.

As is the ability to so commit yourself to something, that the rest of the spinning world around you becomes an irrelevance.

My son’s time off from school became very precious from the moment he started his education.  In fact, school is an interruption to the times of mucking around and adventure, but I completely understand why.

At the end of each school term the boy comes home with his PE kit, his school bag and any other crap his turned out in the fruits of his his educational pursuits of the last seven or so weeks.

What do you do with it?

Do you instantly check their bag for holiday homework, for notes from the school?

Take out his PE kit for washing and appraising?

Check for party invites or notes from friends?

Or do you leave it in the corner of the room until school starts again?

I fall, well, regularly enough to probably worry my GP, but somewhere between the extremities of the organised parent and the one operating in complete chaos.

This latest holiday I probably operated much nearer the end of leaving things to the last minute and chance.

The boy had told me he had no work to do over the holidays, so I trusted him, and I think I’d asked if his PE kit fitted him okay.  But even still, on the eve of him going back to school, is probably not the right time to be sorting out his school bag.

I approached it, gingerly, unzipping it slowly as not to wake any creature hibernating in it, to see what I would find.

Spellings, his medical update form he’d still not handed in, a school book, some school work for file 13, Lego pieces, raisins but, as promised, no homework.

I’d actually washed his PE kit, seemingly on autopilot (see above), but it was bordering on this-kids-parents-haven’t-checked–this-still-fits-anymore edge.

But I breathed a sigh of relief as I put it all back together for the start of summer term.

I hope I'm as lucky on my inevitable next game of school holiday bag roulette, wondering what odds I may get on that?