Five signs you know it’s the last day of term

2

July 4, 2013 by talkaboutyork

It’s break up day. Woohoo! I never used to say Woohoo! on break up day. I used to cry into my glass of chablis as I braced myself for the onslaught of six long weeks of ‘I’m bored’.

But that was before school became as exhausting for me as it is for the kids. Now I need break up day. Need it I tell you. We have two months of not looking for school ties or ironing school shirts or signing reading records or remembering sports kit or donations for a cake sale or the fact that one child has swimming and the other has cricket or trying to get them to bed early or eat a decent meal or practice their guitar (although they are actually meant to do that over the holidays but that will be in a parallel universe).

Now we have two full months stretching before us in which we can all be slovenly. How marvellous. I am sure there will be ‘I’m bored’ moments. And I will spend a huge amount of time ferrying kids to sports camps and playdates and spending vast sums of money on ‘fun days out’ when they’d rather be staring at a tv. I am also sure that come September I will be whooping and cheering that it is back to school time. But for now I am free wheeling down to the end of term finish line.

All that is left to do is survive the blubfest that is the leaver’s ceremony. Even though my child isn’t leaving, I just have to hear the first two lines of ‘Change and grow’ sung by tiny little people and that’ll be me done. In fact, you could put me in any school, even if I didn’t know a soul there, and I would STILL cry at their leaver’s ceremony. That’s what happens when you become a mother. You cry. A lot. Apparently when you give birth, you develop extra tear ducts. Who knew?

Anyway, here is my list of five signs you know it’s end of term:

  1. Your hallway is littered with huge paper folders crammed with ‘art’ and pieces of work, plus about a billion school books which you can either save for posterity in a keepsake box or place in the recycling bin depending on your maternal excellence.
  2. You haven’t done a single bit of housework or work of any kind really for the last week due to the number of events taking place at school – sports days, leavers ceremonies, school trips, school plays. In fact you’ve spent so much time at the school you feel as though you should start wearing the uniform.
  3. You wake up at 2am realising that you’ve forgotten to buy gifts for the teachers. You have a small internal debate about how much you care about this and then decide that really teachers will have too much soap/wine/cake/flowers/tat and that you are actually doing them a favour by not buying them anything. You go back to sleep.
  4. You don’t bother washing dirty uniforms because they’re going straight in the bin because they are stained, ripped and way too small. This is hugely liberating. I urge you to try it instead of paying for therapy.
  5. Everyone is smiling. The children are smiling because they don’t have to go to school any more. The teachers are smiling in a particularly crazed way, the kind of smile that comes with a slight twitch or facial tic, and which could morph into tears any moment, such is their relief at not being surrounded by other people’s children for two months. And the parents are smiling. Nay. The parents are positively skipping, particularly those who have to battle their way through traffic. No more school run. Two months of being a slightly less responsible adult.

Hoorah!

What are your signs that it’s end of term? Oh, and happy holidays.

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Five signs you know it’s the last day of term

  1. barbedwords says:

    Totally agree. Just two months of not having to get up at 7am and spend the next hour in a frantic panic to get everyone dressed/fully kitted up/fed/packed lunches made by 8.15 is the equivalent of a singleton spending a month in the Caribbean.

  2. […] breaking up this week, parents all over the country will either be rejoicing, having survived the end of term frenzy, or weeping at the thought of the long summer holidays stretching ahead of them broken only by the […]

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