Slapped in the face with a raw, wet kipper….

Dear teacher,

I feel we have formed a bond over the last five weeks and I can move past writing to you in diary form and just address you direct.  I am here as the ghost of school days future, appearing in front of you as warning to appreciate the present and don’t do as I did and waste the time you had.  You know how twin boy and girl went to stay with their nanny for two weeks and he who helped create them and I got to stay home alone with beautiful baby; well guess what I did?  I squandered the time, I didn’t appreciate what I had, I missed them and I allowed that emotion to dominate my actions.  I cleaned out twin girl’s sock drawer, I bought and labeled twin boy’s uniform, on one particularly bad night I slept in twin girl’s bed (ok, the half bottle of wine and ridiculous argument with he who helped create them also led to that occurence) but all in all I didn’t relish the silence, I didn’t embrace the lack of washing, I was a fool!

I will say that the hugs I received upon returning to collect my eldest pair were phenomenal, seeing BB light up like Blackpool illuminations as she shuffled over to her idol, twin boy, and second mother, twin girl, was a dream.  But then honestly teacher, the next day, real life came back and slapped me in the face with a raw, wet Kipper.  Within moments of waking both my ear drums were screaming out for mercy, twin boy and girl had clearly devised a competition to see who could say mummy most in the space of an hour.  When I decided to leave the home to escape the ever shrinking four walls the situation only worsened with tantrums and talking back.  I merely asked twin boy to stop moaning and get in the car when I was greeted with the retort;

 ‘shall I go on the road then, I’m not allowed on the road? Shall I be killed by a car getting into our car, do you want me to dieeeeeee?’ Twin boy then collapsed on the grass arms flayed out doing a loud impression of his own death by motherly request.

Twin girl added her own twist to the trauma by declaring was on her brother when he climbed into the front seat; long heated debates combined with hair pulling continued as they argued the toss on whose turn it was to accompany me in the front.  Teacher I am not ashamed to tell you that I cradled my head in my arms as I tried unsuccessfully to block out the sounds.

But teacher heed my words, look around you, have you appreciated the last five weeks?  I mean really appreciated them?  Take a moment now, listen to the silence, perhaps meditate a while.  Have a cold glass of wine in the afternoon, sod it, have the bottle, tomorrow you wont have thirty little people all shouting above one and other trying to be heard.  Dont think about lesson plans, don’t try to get yourself in advance, they wont appreciate it, not one little bit.  I told twin girl about her sock drawer and she didn’t even comment, and twin boy was totally nonplussed when I explained about his uniform, he even went so far as to enquire if I wanted a medal.  Well yes, I bloody well do as it goes.

So teach, can I call you that? enjoy your last week, savour each moment, because in eight days it all starts again, the din and the noise, the mud and the madness.  The holidays are ending, it’s nearly time for the school bell to ring.

yours in anticipation,

northernmum

Previous letters/diary entry to teacher include…

Day One of hell

Is Hell freezing over?

Dear holidaying teacher

Dear Teacher