The road we travel down as we set off to school is completely lined with daffodils. This warms my heart each morning, and I’ve commented on it (“Look - they're so cheerful!”) to the point that the boys now respond, “Yes, Mum, you say that all the time!” and perhaps roll their eyes, although I can't actually see them in the back seats. (It was therefore VERY pleasing when one of their little friends came round, saw the flower-lined road, and said, “Oh - it’s like a golden pathway laid out just for you!” So pleasingly appreciative and poetic!).
The changes of seasons have fused in my mind into reflections on seasons of life. I’ve already written on many of our seasons: the (oddly popular?!) blog on the season of poo https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-being-the-poo-queen, the season of hospital visits https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-hospitals-and-storm-troopers, the season of breastfeeding https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-appreciation-of-dairy-cows, the season of homeschooling https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-the-attractions-of-homeschooling, the season of (not) dancing https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-being-an-ex-dancer, the many many seasons of snot https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-sickness-and-on-health.
But the seasons I have been conscious of recently, perhaps as we are now are settled in our new village home, are to do with transport. Which sounds very prosaic.
As a Cambridge student at an out-of-centre college, I relied on my bike for everything. Very convenient, just sometimes a bit damp; occasionally three hours in a steaming lecture hall were insufficient to dry out all the layers (I was a bit late to catch on to waterproof trousers so spent three winters in sodden jeans). Then when I got my first teaching job, I had nearly an hour’s commute in the car each way. I lift-shared with my husband, so it wasn’t time completely wasted (!), but still, on reflection, it seems like madness. Then we had son one, and my world shrank geographically to our immediate vicinity: the local children’s centres, the neighbours with babies, the library at the end of the road. The only form of transport needed was a buggy. I couldn’t face going back to the commute and the old job, and was very lucky to get a job at a school within walking distance. So for a while, I was back to mostly being on a bike, although now with a trailer dragging behind me. And sometimes I cursed the trailer: the bits that fell off it; the vermin that nested in the back; the time the side gate was left locked so I had to speedily dismantle the trailer, carry it through the house, and reassemble it on the front drive. But it was wonderfully free-ing, and very very Cambridge.
But now I live in a commuter village, where not having a car just isn’t really an option. I know I’m very lucky indeed to live in a lovely house in a village, and I know we are fortunate to be able to afford cars… but still. It’s a bit sad. Driving up and down the dual carriageway doesn’t really compare to the convenience of zipping round the corner on a bike, my youngest in the trailer nestled between my laptop and the piles of books to mark.
This week, I’ve had covid, so the slightly weird routine was to drive the boys to school, wait in the car and try to flag down someone we knew, or phone someone (“Hello? I’m two parked two cars in front of you!”) to get them to take the boys in, and then drive myself back home. And something similar in reverse at the end of the day.
Meanwhile, the season of covid testing and restrictions is now coming to an end, which seems strange after so long of being cautious. Given that our family has been hit with covid twice this term, I’m not sure how much the cautiousness was working anyway. It pretty much feels like the world and his wife has covid currently, to the point that I look at non-infected people with suspicion, like, either you have no friends or you’re just not testing yourself!
Finally, our eldest has just turned ten, which I seem to find more significant than he does. Perhaps because to me it marks a decade of parenting which means I am definitely no longer as ‘noob’ (as the boys like to insult each other, thanks to some random Minecraft videos). Ten years in; how did that happen?
I reckon by now I ought to have more pearls of wisdom to share, and there’s plenty of things I probably could go on about in terms of trying to raise children “in the discipline and instruction of the Lord”, or encouraging reading or routines, but lots of people have already done it and a lot better. But here are my two non-poo related gems, two ideas (or hacks as they might be called on social media?) which I claim as my own and which are sound enough advice to dish out to any parent who is willing to listen.
1) The spare clothes bag.
You know when you have a baby and you always have a spare baby gro because you don’t know when the next poonami or sick up is going to happen? Or when you have a toddler and you always have spare pants to hand ‘just in case’? And then your child goes to school and you think you don’t need to carry clothes any more? You’re wrong. Always have a spare clothes bag. Have a complete change of clothes in a bag for everyone under ten (maybe older ones too, but it’s too soon for me to tell) and leave it permanently in your car or bike trailer or whatever form of transport you use (I’m coming full circle here). The number of times there has been a spilled drink, or a trip in some mud, or a spontaneous water fight, or vomit in the car, or I misjudged the weather when we were getting dressed… so many things. And I think, No problem! and reach smugly for the spare clothes bag. Trust me, you’ll be so pleased you’ve done it. Just remember to replace the items in it every now and again.
2) The genius lunch boxes.
I love these lunchboxes. They stack, go in the dishwasher, microwave and freezer, and they make relatively balanced lunches. I recently asked my eldest who in his class has good lunches at school (wanting to steal ideas because ours are quite repetitive) and he said, “Actually, everyone thinks that my lunchboxes always look best because of the different sections.” Well, that was a pleasant surprise! But I do get the odd comment. Like at the school Christian Union last week, one girl called across to me mid Bible study, “Miss, we really like your lunch boxes!” So there you go. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Compartment-Meal-Prep-Containers-Microwavable/dp/B01J93IP3C/ref=sr_1_2_sspa?crid=DSS54MF58P2&keywords=stackable%2Blunch%2Bboxes&qid=1648671792&sprefix=stackable%2Blunch%2Bboxes%2Caps%2C209&sr=8-2-spons&spLa=ZW5jcnlwdGVkUXVhbGlmaWVyPUEyV0kyV01KRjFaU0lSJmVuY3J5cHRlZElkPUEwMjU5OTk4MU5VS0s4VzRNMTBYVCZlbmNyeXB0ZWRBZElkPUEwNjEzNTM3M0hVMU1USklaMFFSSSZ3aWRnZXROYW1lPXNwX2F0ZiZhY3Rpb249Y2xpY2tSZWRpcmVjdCZkb05vdExvZ0NsaWNrPXRydWU&th=1
Right, that’s the end of my inspiration (unless you want to hear more on optimal toilet positions or supplemental nursing systems) and I hope that the sum total of my wisdom gleaned from a decade of parenting experience is of use to someone. Because, after ten years of parenting and sixteen years of teacher-ing, I will have to admit, I am no longer a newbie.
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