I've been neglecting this, with good reason, there having been no school for over a week now (that doesn't excuse me from having written nothing since two weeks before the end of term, but whatever).
The last week of term didn't contain much of any great excitement, as Reception don't do a nativity or Christmas concert or suchlike. Apparently this is because of how tired Reception children get in their first term, and nothing to do with the propensity of over-stretched Reception mothers to sob pathetically at the spectacle of small children singing 'Away in a Manger' (or is that just me?) There was a Christmas party, which required a small plate of sausages and some money. Daughter used her money to buy a bright pink bauble (which doesn't go at all with my silver and red tree) and something else, which escapes me now. Husband had to lend another mum a pound for her child, which said mum paid me back the following day, only for me to have to borrow an extra pound from her to pay for a quiz sheet. Which we have now lost.
There was also Christmas dinner in the canteen on the Friday, about which I heard nothing, par for the course for school dinners.
Reception and Key Stage 1 finished at their normal time on the Friday, and Key Stage 2 15 minutes early - ie the same time. Okay, NOW I see why they're normally separate. The doors opened at 3pm on the dot and the bigger kids came out like a tidal wave just as the parents of the smaller ones were trying to get round the corner to where they're let out. It was madness. Daughter came out in tears, and when I finally calmed her down enough to speak I found out she was upset because she had too much to carry. I'd taken everything off her by this point! She had her book bag and water bottle as usual, and a large paper folder of festive bits of art, which was all a bit too much. Later that day (while Husband and I were out drinking on respective work dos, having delivered Daughter to her grandparents for the night) a small bag of Daughter-made festive sweeties arrived in the porch, having obviously been forgotten and subsequently hand-delivered.
Christmas has been very nice, now getting a touch of cabin fever so got a couple of play-date-ish things planned. Daughter is getting ready to celebrate a new year by having her tooth fall out. I can't believe she has a wobbly tooth - it seems like five minutes ago I was going around saying I couldn't believe she had a tooth (at four months).
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Rite of passage: Christmas fair
Despite having said to one or two people today that I consider myself immune from parental-involvement-guilt (being a governor) I did try to make some contribution to today's Christmas fair. That contribution being:
- a small box of board books for a nearly-new book stall
- 23 cinnamon-cranberry and white chocolate muffins (I made 24, but the paper plate supplied by the school was smaller than my own paper plates, so I could only fit 7 on it, which meant there I could only send in 23)
- half an hour personning the loot bag stall (which turned into 50 minutes because no one relieved us)
- £2 actually spent on the loot bag stall, 50p on face painting (butterflies were discounted, although Daughter actually had a rather lovely and ornate butterfly), £1 on some sort of draw, and whatever Husband and Daughter spent while I was on the loot bags
It was all fairly jolly, although extremely crowded (Daughter had a meltdown at not being allowed to stand in a queue which didn't exist for something we couldn't work out). I saw one face from work that I'd not seen at school before, and numerous other familiar school, work, nursery or any-combination-of faces. Bumped into the chair of the board of governors, and her husband who is tres senior at work - latter said hello to Husband, by name, as we went in our separate directions. Husband said 'is that how you get to be senior, by remembering people you have absolutely no reason to remember?' I said it certainlly seemed to help, and could almost hear him mentally recalculating his career prospects (he is truly atrocious at remembering who people are, especially out of context).
I was much taken by the human fruit machine, consisting of teachers doing funny arm/hand movements in response to a bell, and plucking fruit from a box. THE PTA mum was doing the announcements for that. She is a proper larger-than-life looking character, but nonetheless comes across as oddly approachable, at at least from a distance. I'm fairly favourable inclined towards our PTA after they supplied wine at the new-parents evening, though they do seem as scarily organised as PTA as reputed to be (my co-stallholder pointed out the woman who came and reorgaised our bags half-way through our shift as an example). Anyway, I've said a million times and will again - I'll play to my strengths, and full PTA involvement would not do that. I'll bake, I'll man a stall, I don't sell raffle tickets, I don't have ideas, I don't organise people, I will cough up. Job done.
(Disclaimer - I do have ideas, just not fund raising social ideas!)
- a small box of board books for a nearly-new book stall
- 23 cinnamon-cranberry and white chocolate muffins (I made 24, but the paper plate supplied by the school was smaller than my own paper plates, so I could only fit 7 on it, which meant there I could only send in 23)
- half an hour personning the loot bag stall (which turned into 50 minutes because no one relieved us)
- £2 actually spent on the loot bag stall, 50p on face painting (butterflies were discounted, although Daughter actually had a rather lovely and ornate butterfly), £1 on some sort of draw, and whatever Husband and Daughter spent while I was on the loot bags
It was all fairly jolly, although extremely crowded (Daughter had a meltdown at not being allowed to stand in a queue which didn't exist for something we couldn't work out). I saw one face from work that I'd not seen at school before, and numerous other familiar school, work, nursery or any-combination-of faces. Bumped into the chair of the board of governors, and her husband who is tres senior at work - latter said hello to Husband, by name, as we went in our separate directions. Husband said 'is that how you get to be senior, by remembering people you have absolutely no reason to remember?' I said it certainlly seemed to help, and could almost hear him mentally recalculating his career prospects (he is truly atrocious at remembering who people are, especially out of context).
I was much taken by the human fruit machine, consisting of teachers doing funny arm/hand movements in response to a bell, and plucking fruit from a box. THE PTA mum was doing the announcements for that. She is a proper larger-than-life looking character, but nonetheless comes across as oddly approachable, at at least from a distance. I'm fairly favourable inclined towards our PTA after they supplied wine at the new-parents evening, though they do seem as scarily organised as PTA as reputed to be (my co-stallholder pointed out the woman who came and reorgaised our bags half-way through our shift as an example). Anyway, I've said a million times and will again - I'll play to my strengths, and full PTA involvement would not do that. I'll bake, I'll man a stall, I don't sell raffle tickets, I don't have ideas, I don't organise people, I will cough up. Job done.
(Disclaimer - I do have ideas, just not fund raising social ideas!)
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