It really is time the kids went back to school, so normality can resume

IT will be remembered as The Long Hot Summer of 2018. And it’s been bloody fantastic. I have loved every single minute of those sunny days and balmy nights. There hasn’t been a babby washed nor a shirt ironed in three months but sure what harm – we actually had a proper summer and God knows when we’ll have one again.

Here comes the ‘But’.....But it’s time to get back to reality now. The sun has retired once more, there are cobwebs on the ceiling and mounds of ironing in the washing basket. It’s time for normality to resume– and it most certainly is time the kids went back to school.

There’s a lot to be said for routine. The older I get the more a creature of habit I become and I like the peace and quiet of an empty house. I love my children. But I think I love them that little bit more when they’re in school. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that! It’s been lovely

‘THE SOONER YOU GO BACK TO SCHOOL THE BETTER,’ I GRUMBLE. ‘YOU ARE EATING ME OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME AND MAKING THE PLACE UNTIDY’

having their company for the past couple of months but I need them to go now. They are driving me mental!

Obviously there’s the mess, I mean everyone knows mess and children come hand in hand. But quite frankly I am sick and tired of collecting dirty plates and glasses off various surfaces that were not meant for crockery. As for their ability to sleep for hours on end only to surface bleary eyed and demand food -it is second to none.

God forbid I’d plug in the hoover (to be fair that is a pretty rare occurrence) or turn on a radio before mid day, lest I’d be accused of disturbing them and having no consideration for others. This lack of consideration also extends to expecting them to empty the dishwasher and possibly picking their dirty socks off the floor.

And then there’s the endless snacks. How do they cope with just a mid morning break and lunch in school when they seem to be eating non stop during the holidays? Incessant whinging about being hungry and there being nothing to eat have practically made my ears bleed.

‘You are NOT starving! Children in Africa are starving!’ I snap, repeating a much used phrase of my mother’s. Then they hover, waiting in hope for me to produce some miracle snack like home made pancakes or breakfast burritos – way beyond the remit of my culinary skills.

‘ The sooner you go back to school the better,’ I grumble. ‘You are eating me out of house and home and you’re making the place look untidy,’ I say pointing at the two of them slung over various pieces of furniture, surrounded by hoodies, ipads and empty crisp packets.

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get rid of us,’ The Eldest comments.

Ahhhhh, the penny finally drops!