Get­ting my chil­dren to school on time would try the pa­tience of a saint

Gorey Guardian - - NEWS - Jus­tine O’Mahony

THERE’S two rea­sons why I don’t do the school run. The first one is be­cause I’m never cos­met­i­cally ac­cept­able at that time in the morn­ing and I don’t want to be re­spon­si­ble for scar­ing all the chil­dren go­ing into school.

‘Aaaaaaaagh! Why does your mammy look like that?’ ‘Eh... be­cause she’s got no make up on!’

The sec­ond rea­son, if I’m be­ing to­tally hon­est, is be­cause I would kill the two chil­dren be­fore we even got to the bloody school, so in the in­ter­ests of safety and keep­ing them alive, Him­self does it.

I will ad­mit I am not a morn­ing per­son. There, I’ve said it. I am grumpy, mono­syl­labic and un­able to string a co­her­ent sen­tence to­gether first thing in the morn­ing. But

Oh My God. Get­ting my chil­dren to school would try the pa­tience of a feckin saint. And I don’t mean that in a fond way!

The older one takes at least three wake up calls and the threat of vi­o­lence be­fore he ven­tures out of his bed­room to get his break­fast. The other one gets up fast enough but then sneaks back into bed af­ter break­fast to catch a few ex­tra min­utes on her phone.

Their uni­forms are laid out the night be­fore by

Mug­gins, yet still there is a mad panic look­ing for var­i­ous items such as ties, school shoes and PE gear. The Youngest spent ten min­utes – ten full min­utes – look­ing for the right socks this morn­ing.

By right socks, I don’t mean the right colour. Oh no. I mean the right ‘feel.’

Five pairs were tried on and then aban­doned be­fore find­ing the ‘right ones’ by which time I was shout­ing and she was shout­ing back to not shout at her be­cause I was ‘stress­ing her out.’

Af­ter that it was the usual check list, ‘did you brush your teeth?’, ‘Have you brushed your hair?’ ‘Where are your glasses?’ be­fore the bat­tle over who gets the front seat in the car en­sues. ‘Just get into the bloody car be­fore I kill the two of you!’ I bel­low. I’m sure I could see the cur­tains across the road twitch­ing. They were prob­a­bly ring­ing Child­line.

Amaz­ingly only 10 min­utes be­hind schedule, but still late, we make it onto the main road and into heavy school traf­fic, just as the Youngest shouts ‘Stop! I for­got my lunch!’ I will not re­peat the pro­fan­i­ties that came out of my mouth. Suf­fice to say there were a lot. I dropped them both to school, fit to be tied, then turned around, re­trieved the for­got­ten lunch­box and dropped that off at school too.

Board­ing school seems like a re­ally good op­tion right now.


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