Hmmm. Having spent much of the summer holidays freaking the fuck out, I decided to call the school for which Noah was 1st on the list AGAIN on Friday. Hoping for an update. They advised us that someone else and moved into the area closer to the school than ourselves, and so therefore they are at the top now. We asked about appealing; so far NO ONE has ever won an appeal. Shortly after that conversation, I spent a good few moments crying and throwing up.
That afternoon, we trekked over to a small village about 7 miles, to the only school anywhere near us with spaces. As of last Friday, around 4:30pm, both of my boys finally had a school to go to. YAY! Small problem. It’s 7. Miles. Away. Even better, it’s not even the same school which Isaac is at. That’s 2 miles away. And not even in the same direction.
We walked around, the secretary talked my ear off, Noah prodded and pointed at everything, and talked to the last of the staff who were still there. They seemed lovely, the school seems lovely, everything seems nice…but all weekend I have had this horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea how to make this work, and the sense of overwhelming panic is scaring me shitless.
I wasn’t going to blog this morning, but I have woken up with a fear so bad, I could happily go and empty my stomach. I’ve had weird dizzy spells and flushes over the last 2 months, and this morning everything feels even worse. Everything should be fine; everything should be sorted now. And yet I have this unease.
I’ve looked at the timings, and the school run, and routes, and I have no idea how I am going to make this work. Isaac’s gates open at 8:30. Unfortunately, for the whole of Isaac’s first week last week, they never once opened on time, instead opening between 8:35 and 8:40. Interestingly, Noah’s school starts at 8:40, and he must be there by 8:50. The drive from one school to the other is approximately 17 minutes.
I’m hoping I’m just being thick, but the maths here tells me that’s not possible to accomplish without one or the other being very late.
So the obvious solution is to send Isaac to the same nursery as his brother, eh?
No can do. They only operate half day; I cannot afford the petrol or time to drop Noah off, come home, go back to drop off Isaac (they only have afternoons available) come home, then go back at the end of the day to pick them both up.
Sitting here with The Smalls playing in front of me; I am currently on the verge of what I think might be a panic attack. All I want to do is cry, throw up and stop myself from shaking rather a lot.
I can’t see how I am going to do this for a year. I can’t see how it is going to work. I don’t understand how I will get any work done, by pretty much driving back and forth, waiting in car parks and screaming at traffic. I understand there are plenty of other parents who deal with this situation, but I am not one of them. For me this isn’t just about The Smalls being in school; this is all about having no idea about how the fuck I am going to fit everything into the 19 hour window currently available to me. 19 hours is LOADS of time!! (Said in my best Nanny Plum voice) Unfortunately, most of that time is wasted and lost, and the actual number of those hours spent working, happen well beyond 11pm.
I have a fear. I fear I will break. I fear I will lose track, be unable to do everything and just break. The sense of panic is right there, in my stomach, and I have to make a conscious effort to breathe firmly and stop it from rising. I know I can write to-do lists until they come out of my ears; but I know I will let The Smalls down at some point; get something spectacularly wrong; forget something essential, be late every single day…this was not the start I wanted for my children.
I worked hard for the best start I could, and instead I’ve failed them. They’re in schools miles apart (Isaac spent the first week being tearful when he realised he wasn’t with me or Noah), one of them will always be late, I don’t know how to keep working on top of it all, I don’t see when I am to spend time with them, I can’t afford the petrol (there is no school transport service), I am bound to pack their bags wrong and I am panicking.
And this scenario would appear to be the case for the next year. But it’s ok, because I’m happy about it. Right?