I helped at school today.
It was that LEGO Club thing that my eldest started and I agreed to. Encouraged him to follow his dreams and be all supportive and “You can do this, because you are so awesome and I love you”. That overriding joy at watching him overcome his fears and take this on (albeit with a friend virtually holding his hand, but still, he did it) was quickly diminished when the realisation that I had to be in attendance at each Club meeting, once a week in the school hall, descended upon me.
I thought I’d got out of it, because they said they needed a responsible adult. Huh. Yet they said “Thanks for helping” and there was no one behind me.
Today, they were organising their fundraiser, to raise more funds to buy more LEGO for the school. They thought of it themselves. I’m just there to facilitate. And listen to nine-eleven year old boy bullshit. And yell at them to “Finish your bloody posters cos I don’t wanna do this same shit again next week, ok?”
I also told them I rocked.
I told them they would know how much I rocked when I didn’t turn up to LEGO Club ever again, and then there would be no LEGO Club and so, ner.
So I told them an absolutely hilarious joke, because one of the kids drew a LEGO Minifigure and he hadn’t yet got to the arms, so I pointed it out that by saying “Look, he can’t hurt you, he’s ‘armless!” and they just rolled their eyes and asked me to please stop now. Kids these days just have no sense of humour. But at least they said please.
Then I went and helped in the classroom, where the kids are still working on their human body systems. They’re up to making life sized human bodies, with bits of crafty stuff stuck on that look like the particular system their group is working on. I was delegated the skeletal system. Monkey Boy had taken a balloon in for the diaphragm for his group’s body.
As part of the respiratory system.
The teacher asked “What are you going to stick that on with?” and gave me a sideways glance.
I asked if she’d said “stick that on, or stick that in”.
She contemplated asking me to leave, please, but asked that I tend to the skeletal system group, possibly to undo what misinformation Grumpy Pants had provided the kids with a few weeks back.
I stayed and learnt something valuable. Mostly, that my kids are quite normal and an entire classroom of children are capable of fucking around like you would not believe and not actually achieving anything. My group, at least, drew half a pelvis, rubbed out a badly drawn foot and stuck eight bits of packing polystyrene in the vague shape of a spine.
It was driving home, whilst my kids rode, unsupervised (*gasp*!) that I considered my evening and became fully aware of just how crazed it was to be. Two lots of guitar lessons and an information night at school pertaining to enrolment for high school.
(I still think it’s evil to be forcing this onto parents now, because for the next 86 years we’ll be hearing about how we should be “enjoying every moment” and not “wishing it away” and “hang on to this time” … which is entirely impossible when you’re having to trawl websites and visit schools and stress about One More Thing To Fuck Your Kids Up For Life. *sigh*)
I had also not gotten anything out of the freezer for dinner. Mostly so I could say “nothing that a few slices of bacon and a tin or two of tomato won’t fix”. I think that’s a matriciana but I’m not sure. It’s what I call it, anyway.
So, I have 42 minutes exactly to prepare, cook, serve and eat dinner before we head out on the first lap of guitar lessons. At this point, Grumpy informs me he has purchased some minced beef and some chicken breasts for dinner.
I tell him to shut up.
And then I consider it, think meh, I’ll just create something again and get to it.
I dice some vegies and the chicken, crush some garlic and say “I don’t know, I’m making it up again so not only do Inot know what it’s called, but I’m not entirely sure it even has a name. Some chicken thing. And pasta,” when the kids ask “What’s for dinner?”
Half the time I think they ask it because they haven’t actually said anything for 3.7 seconds and the silence is killing them, not that they actually want to know what is for dinner.
I even manage, quite by accident, to create a One Pot Meal. Of course, that depends on whether you consider the pot I boiled the water in for the pasta as using a pot or not. The pasta never actually made it into that pot, as I accidentally tipped it into the pan that had my chicken and vegies and tomato happening, so … you know …
Anyhoo, it worked. I still don’t know what it’s called, but I called it a One Pot Chicken Thing With Tomato. And Pasta. And Just Shut Up And Hurry Up And Eat We Need To Leave.
So there …