It takes weeks of planning to get a group photo in my house. Teenagers (including nearly 4 year old teenagers) have to be prepped. Every day this week Ive said “remember my photo on Friday”, “remember everyone has to wear their school uniform on Friday”, “remember we have to leave the house at 7.50am on Friday. And now of course I also have to prepare my office children: “remember I might be in late on Friday”…..
It cant possibly be worth it, I really dont know why I do it to myself, I see these children (nearly) every day, I can take a photo at home, I have enough stress.
But this year, I decided it was worth it. I DONT see them all everyday, its the last year they’ll all be in school. Its probably one of the last times they’ll all wake up in the same house.
Plus like everything else about children, the pain is forgotten (until the next time).
So prep I did.
I reminded Torin he’d have to wear his school T-shirt on Friday even if he didnt every other morning; I reminded Mack he’d have to get up early on Friday. I reminded work I might be in late. I was prepared.
I am never prepared.
On Thursday night, Adelaide had a sleepover dilemma which involved every emotion she has, which is many: we dont call her (Drama) Queen Adelaide for nothing. Torin didnt sleep well and felt mildly warm all night. The early signs did not bode well for an easy time.
I hestitated before waking everyone up at 7am. The calm before the storm is bliss. But storms must be weathered eventually.
The secret Ive found to children’s moods over the years is food. Fed children are happy children so breakfast is a priority on momentous days.
Chocolate spread on toast on picture day will be fine im sure.
Meanwhile Adelaide can’t find a hairbrush.
I feel that there should be a sound effect after that statement, to indicate how headlining that is, because that is what it is. It changes everything.
Im trying to work out how to get 6 kids to school in a car which only has room for me and 3 others. Its like the fox-chicken-corn in a boat puzzle. You cant leave a younger child alone on either side and you cant have any combination including Adelaide and Llyw left together. I come up with a plan. Torin refuses to be without me so now I only have 2 spaces in the car. All mathematical models have to be rethought. Which is background noise to the more important issue of getting everyone dressed. Shoes have to be found, socks (oh the never ending saga of socks, it needs its own blog) are missing, T-shirts have to be changed because they are filthy with spilt yoghurt (which they havent had, its a cononudrum for another day), faces have to be washed and rewashed (whose idea was chocolate spread on toast on picture day anyway).
And all of this is irrelevant compared to the main event:
Adelaide refuses to get dressed, brush her teeth or generally do anything other than scream because she cant find her hairbrush. OTHER hairbrushes can be located, just not the particular one that is the only one she deems acceptable to touch her head. She is a queen after all.
It is now 8am, 10 minutes later than planned.
Theres a competition on the radio to win £2,000. It seems like the ideal time to sit by the phone in case it rings, its not like I have anything else to do today.
The teenage kids tell me they will only go to school at 8.50 or 9.05 and in no circumstances between those two times. Because I definitely need another parameter to work around.
I take one load of kids to school and go back for Adelaide.
She now refuses to be in the photo because her face is blotchy due to screaming so much.
She cant find her school bag, she cant go to school. I tell her that we’ll worry about that after the photo. Lets just get the photo done.
I plead. “Its my only chance Adelaide, please”. She screams more about how unfair I am and how everyone hates her. But she moves into the car. Im now so stressed Im like a swan: on the outside Im super calm. I tell her to put her face to the sky and let the breeze cool her red face, I tell her not to rub her eyes or her face, I tell her to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth (My mum used to say it to me so it must work).
Get to school. The queue for the photos is out the door. The first load of kids are nowhere to be seen. Oh please photo Gods let them have joined the queue 10 minutes ago. I ‘queue jump’ to see if they have. I feel proper British guilt. Queues are so important in Britain. Everyone hates a queue jumper. But i (probably) had a place in the queue with the first drop off. I can feel the eyes boaring into to the back of my head. I try and ignore them. I had a honest place in the queue. Probably. Sort of. The first drop off are on the benches in the hall waiting area. Someone tells me Im next. Hooray!
I tell everyone to get their shoes off. The photographer sees one child, two, three, then me, his face drops and he says “dont tell me youve brought me 5 kids this early in the morning”. I grimace, “sorry: 6”. He’s a professional but i can see the virtual eyebrow raise. “And you?” “God, no! Not me”. Does he really think id want a photo of me looking like this? The idea that Ive had time to get myself ready as well this morning is laughable.
He starts to arrange the kids. He calls Torin. Torin refuses to be in the photo. Of course. I really dont know why I expected anything else. I get his milk bottle which is his comforter and he insists i sit with him. Great. I plan who i know that can photoshop me out. Hes in the picture and im next to him but not in it. I take the bottle off him, he covers his face with his hands.
The photographer is ready and tells Torin to move his hands. Torin refuses. Im desperate, I cant get this far to fail. I whisper “if you have your picture taken Ill buy you sweets”. Im not proud. He moves his hands to his chin. Close enough. Thank the photo Gods! Photos are taken.
I think everyone reading this can hear their own “Hallelujah!”.
Done. Finished. Achieved. Over.
Nope.
I still have to get everyone to school and me to work.
I still have to pay all the bribes I agreed.
Teenagers to school before 8.50am (or after 9.05am). Its 8.30 so no problem.
Three teenagers, three spaces in the car, 2 children who cannot be left without an elder teenager babysitter and Torin who wont leave my side. I decide on Maddie, Llyw and Torin in the car, Mack, Genie and Adelaide in the second round.
Torin asks for his sweets.
Drop Maddie and Llyw at school.
Torin asks for his sweets.
Go back for Mack, Adelaide and Genie (ssh: dont tell the police).
Torin asks for his sweets. Adelaide asks for her school bag.
Drop Mack at school.
Torin asks for his sweets.
Go to my house and hope Adelaide’s school bag is there cos if its not Im out of options.
Adelaide’s bag is in my house, thank goodness!!!
Torin asks for his sweets.
Go to Co-op and buy sweets.
I sigh. Adelaide asks me whats wrong. I laugh “Im stressed” I say. She says “I was stressed earlier and I got over it”. I laugh. Its a gamble laughing at Adelaide. It can open another floodgate of emotions. Luckily today she enjoys laughing with me.
Take kids to school.
Kids tell me they cant go to school because theyre not allowed sweets in school.
*add expletives here*
Nic Danson 