Mums Are Amazing

Not news really but its not often that dads get to find this out first hand.  There is a saying about “ before you criticise a person, first walk a mile in their shoes”.  Never could this be truer of life as a modern mum.

Yesterday I had the strange experience of a full-on stand –in Mum.  As any UK readers will know we have experienced some typically winter weather (well its been cold and snowing a lot in February).  This has caused some schools to close for a wide variety of reasons, causing some parents a degree of inconvenience.  Anyway I thought we had avoided much of this hassle but I had be opinion tested yesterday.

I had been in Norfolk at the beginning of the week on business and had a horrible journey back.  Not as a result of the weather or road conditions but a rather strange illness.  Stomach cramps coupled with a feeling of total exhaustion meant the  five hour trip batter was a constant battle to stay awake and concentrate on the road ahead.

I got home and went straight to bed with a couple of ibuprophen and felt a lot better.  The following day I still felt very rough, phoned in sick and did a lot more sleeping, hot bath etc.  By the evening I was feeling a lot better.  Michele meanwhile had been planning a trip up to London with my Sister in law Jane, ostensibly to buy new bras but I have always assumed this is a thin disguise to have a girls day out in town, wine bar, nice lunch, shopping, giggling and general fun.

The weather had had an impact on the train service and we live in the sticks so the roads have not been easy and they were booked and paid for on an early train.  I was feeling better so M went into Salisbury to stay the night with Jane and be in easy reach of the station for the early start.

I was happy with all this and planned to drop the girls of at a neighbours and be in the office for nine.  A great plan, well no plan ever survives contact with reality so the check kicked in at about six the next morning.  I woke up feeling terrible, all joint acing as if had had arthritis and the quezzieness back with a vengeance.  Not to worry, text the boss, pack the kids lunch boxes, get then out the door to Liz’s and back to bed, hot bath latter and all will be fine by the time I need to pick them up from school at three, the plan all along.

So I am in control and breakfast is going well, the kids have washed and got their uniforms n.  I am a modern middle aged Dad, hurrah.  Then the phone rings and M tells me Jane has been listening to BBC Radio Wiltshire and our school is closed, how do I feel and can she still go to town.  What to say?  Yes go I will cope.  I have no choice as she has done this for me on very many occasions.  A few other phone calls to some school gate mums in M’s address boo to confirm the school is closed and what are they doing.

A plan is hatched.  Kids to get out of school uniform and into snow cloths, (what is it about the way kids summarize life in a few words.  Ella and Hope now have a set of snow clothes, for along time Dad drove a “snow car” as it rescued there friends when our village is Essex was swamped in snow a couple of years ago.  All Christmas Puddings are now known as “fire cake” since Granddad south a Shakespearian performance out of lighting last Christmas desert).  We will meet up in the field for sledging, snowballs, etc.  Alright, I can do this.  Caging the kids and dog inside will be far worse than standing around in the snow feeling rubbish for an hour or so should take the edge of the kids and dog, making the rest of the day tolerable until M gets back from town.

A few phone calls and a small shouting episode later we are all standing in a field with a couple of adults and a hell of a lot of kids.  Mostly sliding on flat things down sloping ground.  This sedate activity lasts for about ten minutes until the collected sledgees are joined by the local Mujahedeen.  Dressed in combats, armed with sticks, snow balls and a vocabulary that is very familiar to the readers of War Picture Library. 

We threw snowballs at each other, few over a lot and then Liz arrived with flasks of hot chocolate.  After a brief cease fire the kids form a loose alliance against the adults and build FOB (Forward Operating Base) Chilmark.  A snow structure offering cover excellent cover to the children and a good target for adults.

After a couple of hours we all retreat to our respective homes to warm up, change clothes, refuel, make the run into the local town for bread, milk and Viognier.   Plans for supper are hatched and a deal is done.  The girls can watch TV until their friends come round for tea and in exchange they will behave (fat chance but its worth the nanosecond of peace before the next argument starts).

It never ceases to amaze me that kids can argue about absolutely anything, with a passion that would defeat any sportsman or BAFTA winning screen writer.  But then turn round hug and pay in perfect harmony until the next nuclear exchange.  When this happens I feel obliged to step in wearing my pale blue beret to try and negotiate a deal but I wonder why I bother as it will pass with only limited collateral damage to the furniture carpet and dog.

Back to my snow day.  M had left some great pasta sauce and a clutch of meatballs to feed the kids and I appear to have invited half the village to tea so  better get stuck in.  There was a moment at about 2.30 when I had brokered a brief ceasefire and started to put the shopping in the fridge when I spotted a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and thought that it might help with the salvo of  rockets that the junior leaders of the Wiltshire branch of Hamas were launching in “mummys best room”.  But no that would afternoon drinking whilst childcaring and I am sure Social Services would be at the door in minutes.

The gang start to arrive at about 4.00.  Warfare breaks out on all three floors in the house.  We start drinking, cooking and creating boundaries for the kids to push at.  Table laid and all are no present.  Liz is the boss, Kelly and I just wander along.  The pinnacle of Liz’s amazingness was lining the kids (7 I total) up at the kitchen door to do a hand washing inspection.  Brilliant.

 

So we have a great afternoon, kids depart the table full of pasta, salad, garlic bread, ice cream etc.  We “mums” pull up the chairs pen the next bottle and laugh at Kelly’s choice of dates on dating direct dot com.

By the time M comes home, with just one bra, from a whole day in town, I have had a fantastic day being a mum and whilst this may not have been typical I am convinced more than ever that all Mums are amazing and I will never look sideways at the gaggle that gather around our kitchen table circa 5.30 on a Wednesday with an bottle of vino collapso or two.  If they have had a day close to the one I experienced they deserve it.