Routine Excitement and Anxiety

It’s Back to School Day!

And I, for one, am very excited about being able to get back into a routine of sorts.

HA!

No, really, I am. Although, I am profoundly aware that my ‘routine’ often comes with a side of chaos, supe rsized, and a plethora of planning problems. Not that I have a problem with planning. Planning has more of a problem with me.

Also, Godzilla had to be at school two hours before usual school starting time, so he may head off on a very long bus trip and school camp.

With much excitement and anxiety last night, he emerged from his bedroom some three times, triple checking everything, worrying about setting his alarm, worrying about not waking up when his alarm goes off and all the other sorts of worrying, and being over excited, that kids do on the night before they go away on school camp for a week.

As a result, and despite my limited sleep the previous few nights and consequent fatigue, I woke every hour. Excited, anxious or what, I have no idea. The point was, I had bugger all sleep.

Except I was very much asleep when a nose was pushed firmly against mine at some hour that clearly displayed nighttime when one looked out a window.

I opened my eyes, startled, to the piercing blue eyes a mere centimetre and a half from mine. Although, really, being that close, I was unable to adequately decipher if they were actually the blue eyeballs of my offspring, or some weird, blurry smear of something blue.

That may also have been contributed to by my not yet being awake.

“I made your coffee,” he tells me, very much awake and – urgh! – cheerful for the, what … 6.04a.m. that the clock alerted me to.

Getting up out of bed, or, technically, rolling over and somehow managing to remain upright as my feet landed on the floor beside the bed, I struggled into a pair of pyjama bottoms, staggered down the stairs, and successfully got coffee into a mug. Ditto the milk.

Getting coffee into my mouth was a bit of an issue, but I managed eventually.

After a mouthful or seven, I peered at the clock, still featuring a slight blur around the numbers, and uttered something along the lines of my not actually being required to be up quite then.

Excitement, however, was rife in the child-whose-parentage-I-was-dubious-of (neither his father/my husband and I have a remote like of mornings) and he was consecutively bouncing and pacing and making me feel somewhat queasy in a sea-sick kind of way and I had to place my hand on his head and push down firmly so he’d stop before I threw up on him.

I managed to delay our leaving so we could stay at home for the half hour we would otherwise have been waiting at school, in the car, in the cold. We are still the first people there, and still have to wait around, lining up, lining bags up and getting all organised for some 45 minutes before I can wave the bus farewell, race home and commence my ‘proper’ school morning routine.

This went as per normal, and although I had great plans for a bit of a kip at some point during the day, I was far too excited, eleven-year-old-boy-going-to-camp-excited, to get stuck back into my work.

So I did.

I’m also quite liking easing back into the routine being down one child. I just worry I’ll forget about him entirely next week, what with being able to establish myself this week without him.

Hmmmm.

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