Blessed are the missing school shoes.
Because you really haven’t had enough variations on the following conversation minutes before you’re due to leave the house:
MOTHER: Why haven’t you put on your school shoes?
SMALL CHILD: Because they’re not on the shoe rack.
MOTHER: Did you *put* them on the shoe rack when you got home from school yesterday?
SMALL CHILD: No.
MOTHER: (hisses) Then why would they be there?
SMALL CHILD: (hopefully) Because mummy put them there?
Blessed is the child who *thinks* they might be “a little bit sick”.
Because there can no longer be indulgent ‘mental health’ days awarded to such a child. Necessity dictates that they need to be firing out both ends (with extreme force) and/or burning hotter than the sun before a sick day is permissible. Fact.
Blessed is the note discovered languishing at the bottom of the school bag that makes everyone cry.
Because dressing three children in national costume and providing three different plates of allergy-free food for ‘Multicultural Week’ is entirely possible with only twenty minutes’ notice.
Blessed is the muesli bar.
Because, even though it contains more sugar than a three litre bottle of Coke, it has the word ‘muesli’ in it and can therefore be used as a last minute breakfast substitute for the child who has refused all offers of breakfast and claims they are not hungry… until they enter school grounds .
Blessed is the school’s lost property bin.
Because, small child, Mummy can not go home just to get your hat and, for today at least, you will need to pretend you are ‘Ibrahim F’ or ‘Bethanee W’ if you want to go outside and play. Deal with it.
Blessed is the orange petrol light flashing on the dash board while driving over the Westgate Bridge in heavy traffic.
Because when you’re constantly rushing between A and B, there’s never a good time to stop for petrol.
Blessed are the dishes and the laundry and the shopping and the housework.
Because the fuckers won’t do themselves while you’re at work.
Blessed are the small children sitting on the other side of a flimsy curtain while you have your biannual pap smear.
Because nobody wants to sacrifice two hours of annual leave to sit in a waiting room just so a doctor can shove cold metal up your vag.
Blessed is the woman who tries to do everything and ends up doing nothing particularly well.
Because sorry, Mummy has to go to work and sorry, I have to leave now to get to the school on time and sorry, darling, we’re having fish fingers and frozen peas for dinner. Again.