Summertime overload

This week daughters three and two had an inset day. This coincided with my partner's car breaking down in the middle of the road and a rushed trip to rescue him and get his car towed to the nearest garage, but that was just a minor diversion. The advent of the inset day meant preparations for the return to school were delayed until Monday evening. No-one had done their homework as we had been away for the weekend. Several members of the family had nits [I think I didn't quite exterminate them last time round and they have emerged reinvigorated by the rain and Welsh air] so we had a whole round of baths and hair care to do. Daughters two and three have swimming at school twice each this week which means packing up swimsuits, towels, flip flops, swimming caps, brushes, etc. That's swimming in the rain in an outdoor pool. Lovely. Then there was the PE kit to get ready, the school uniform to iron, the washing from Wales to put out, toddler boy's three thumb creams to put on, daughter one's history project to finish, putting all the CDs toddler boy has scattered around the house back in their cases and a brief discussion with my partner about how on earth we are going to manage for the rest of the week with one car between us in the middle of the countryside.

My plan had been to get everyone to bed early so they would wake up bright and ready for school, but, as always, I found myself running out of time as daughter two spent hours deciding what sentences she wanted to create with "wouldn't" and "shouldn't" [Sample suggestion: "I shouldn't eat my sister, but she might be tasty" and "I wouldn't allow maths if I was in charge of the school" - sadly, her ambitions with her sentences outrun her ability to spell said words correctly].

Eventually, everyone was in bed and asleep and I went downstairs to do some work. In the morning, daughter two was up early and dressed while daughter one was half asleep and hovering around the car in the hope I would give her a lift to the bus stop. Toddler boy was sampling everyone's breakfast and daughter three was curled up on the sofa in a ball, complaining about swimming [I could see her point]. By half an hour before we normally leave daughter two was getting impatient. "Shall we go, mummy?" she demanded. "We don't want to be late." This would be fine if everyone else had a similar desire to be on time, but sadly she is the only one. Daughter three was at this point burying her face into the cushions while toddler boy tucked into her Golden Grahams.

Unbelievably, we managed to get out the door on time, clutching schoolbags, raincoats, PE bags, swimming bags and toddler boy's boots [he had already taken both the boots and socks off before we left]. Fortunately, I told myself as we headed down the school path, it's not packed lunch week. Oh dear, the thought of packed lunches suddenly reminded me I had forgotten the school dinner money. I dropped the kids and headed home to get the dinner money. As I arrived puffing at school, the receptionist told me she was just about to ring me as apparently daughter three, who has an athletics meeting on Thursday and a "fun" run tomorrow, had some walk to a church through bogs that very day and hadn't remembered her boots [which means I hadn't remembered them]. I had to head home again. Unfortunately, daughter three has recently outgrown her wellies and only has some rather stylish wedged heel boots. The shame of it. I handed over the boots to the receptionist who asked, with arched eyebrow, whether daughter two didn't have any wellies. I replied that she had outgrown them. The expectation was, I think, that I would rush out and buy some at that precise moment. Do they really think that parents have all day to do this stuff? Yes, I should have bought her some immediately I found out her other boots didn't fit, but in mitigation her feet are growing so fast that I thought I would wait till autumn since it is supposed to be summer and therefore dry. Is it my fault the weather has conspired against my fabulous forward-planning skills?