On being an emotional wreck at the end of term!

I can’t believe it’s nearly the end of the school year. Just a week to go here in the UAE. I find it such an emotional time. Friends leaving, switching schools. A forced move coming up. Time passing too quickly.

I had a mini meltdown today. Overwhelmed by it all, tears crept out the corners of my eyes and I wiped them away briskly before I turned into a huge puddle. They were triggered by a goodbye email from Son#1’s teacher, an incredible lady who has nurtured so much creativity in the class. I’m so grateful to this teacher for steering the children through such a wonderful year (Son#1’s last at this particular school due to our forced relocation).

Barack Obama

Guess who? Thank God he didn’t do Trump

It does seem that the end-of-the-school year is a period of heightened emotion for many people in the UAE. Not only are most of us leaving on extended summer leave to escape the climate, but this year a greater number of families are exiting the country permanently. The past few months have seen quite a shake-up, with some big and difficult decisions to make. Good luck to all of you spreading your wings and know that you’ll be sorely missed.

Before this post sets me off again, here’s some light relief – my 10-year-old’s wish list, which came home today as part of his portfolio of work. Amid all the change in the air, this really made me smile – as did the artwork pictured. Son#1 hasn’t been the easiest child, but his left-handed creativity blows me away!

A 10-year-old boy’s wish list

No homework
Free laptop
Lamborghini (spelling corrected – only in Dubai!)
Xbox 360
A real lightsaber
No brother (I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, haha!)
Nerf gun
iPad 5

Max's art

Love how the tree has money, iPads and Xb0x controllers as fruit. Who says these things don’t grow on trees?!

The driver/maid combo

Drivers in Dubai come with all kinds of wheels: And I don't mean regular drivers. I mean the paid kind who ferry kids back and forth. Pic credit: The National

Drivers in Dubai come with all kinds of wheels: And I don’t mean regular drivers. I mean the paid kind who ferry kids back and forth. Pic credit: The National

After much raucous excitement (go-karting, lasertag, pizza and ice cream x 15 kids), I let out a long, slow, deep breath – Son1’s birthday was OVER. Thank God! Everyone had gone home.

At least I thought they had … until DH piped up, “Oh wait, someone’s still here.”

A boy. Let’s call him H. He was inside the building, standing around quietly, waiting for someone to pick him up.

I told DH to head off with our two. H and I stood on the kerb outside, in the dark – the moon was full, the sky full of stars. We chatted – he was a nice kid, grown-up for his age. He was also getting worried about the fact no one had come for him. “I’m sure your mum will be here any minute,” I said kindly, stifling a yawn (end of the work/school week, blimin’ knackered).

“Can I use your phone?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Do you know your mum’s number?”

He nodded, and I handed my mobile over.

A few seconds later, I heard a small voice – much more plaintiff than the polite tone he’d been using to chat with me. “Mummy!” he squeaked. A few more words were exchanged as he scuffed his foot against the pavement. “But there’s no-one here.”

When he got off the phone, I asked (and I’ll admit I was more than a little hopeful myself as I REALLY wanted to go home), “So is she coming?”

H shrugged. “My driver’s coming.”

Now, this in itself isn’t at all surprising in Dubai, but what did surprise me is we sat on the kerb for another 20+ minutes without so much as a message (or apology) from his parents, and when a car eventually screeched to a halt (a driver-maid combo), the darkened windows meant there was no eye contact. I walked round to make sure he was getting in the right vehicle, but they were clearly in a hurry. After a quick “sorreeee” and “goodbye”, the car door slammed and they were off in a puff of smoke.

I listened to the crunching of gravel as they veered across the car park, and thought, “Thank Gawd, now I can go home – half an hour late. Just in time to clear up all the shredded pieces of wrapping paper I’m sure will be strewn all over the floor by now.”

A little odd, I decided. Madam can’t have known her driver was running so late, or she would have texted. Wouldn’t she? Or am I too English and hung up on manners?

Either way, it takes all sorts to make Dubai go round, doesn’t it?