Tag Archives: back to school

Kidnapping Helicopter Mum’s DD

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A while ago, we met Organised Mum, whose fait accompli in getting her children ready for the new school year left us all vowing to iron the name-tags on earlier next time.

As a new term gets underway, there’s another mum I’d like to introduce you to. You all know her. She’s the mum who follows her young up slides, down plastic tubes and into the toilet. We all share her protective tendencies to varying degrees, and hover over our offspring at times, but let’s just say Helicopter Mum is hyper-present in her children’s lives.

You’ve just dropped your kids at school for the first day back and you’re skipping returning to the car – with four child-free hours ahead of you – when you bump into her.

She’s sobbing into her hankie. Big fat tears and Bobbi Brown mascara streaming down her crumpled face.

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Helicopter Mum does their schoolwork in her spare time

Your bolt for freedom screeches to a grinding halt and you stop to chat, aware that those four precious hours (in which you planned to knock out several chores in double-quick time, buy a week’s worth of groceries and get a blow-dry) are already slipping away.

“We had such a wonderful holiday,” she blubs, dabbing at her puffy eyes. “I just wasn’t ready for term to start again.”

She regales you with sniffly tales about the cookies they baked, the trip to see Santa (in Lapland) and the Christmas stories her children wrote, while you almost start twitching with the urge to get going.

Helicopter Mum brightens noticeably when you – to get her off the school grounds – suggest a (quick) coffee. It’s the death knell for that morning’s to-do list, but at least it stops her calling her oldest on his mobile – the world’s longest umbilical cord – at break time.

As you part ways, she’s distracted from missing her children – until disaster strikes. It’s pick-up time for the little ones and her car won’t start. She calls you, so breathy with distress you think at first it’s a prankster.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “I’ll bring your DD home, no problem at all.”

But it is a problem, because her DD has never been in anyone else’s car before. It’s never been necessary, because Helicopter Mum is always there. She comes in a taxi, but by the time they reach the school (the driver not needing much encouragement to step on the gas), you’ve already grabbed her child.

You’re heading towards Emirates Road, with her DD doing hightails with her legs in her carseat she’s so excited, when you look in the mirror and realise Helicopter Mum is right behind you. She’s caught up in the taxi and is peering out the front window with an anxious, frightened look on her face.

You’re on her radar, and you realise you haven’t been terribly helpful at all. You’ve kidnapped her darling, bubble-wrapped DD. You wonder if you should stop to hand her child over, but, no, this little bit of separation will do them both good, you decide.

Her DD – singing along to the radio at the top of her voice and fluttering her eyelids at your son – certainly thinks so, even if Helicopter Mum sprouts a smattering of grey hairs on the way home.

Our turn for a break!

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School started again today – and I wouldn’t be being entirely honest if I didn’t admit to feeling more than a little pleased.

Okay, after whooping with relief, I’m now grinning from ear-to-ear and lying poleaxed on the sofa, feet up, magazine in one hand, TV remote in the other and the iPad back in my possession (I’m sure I’m not the only mum who multi-tasks while relaxing).

Don’t get me wrong – I (mostly) loved our countless outings to the beach, the park and the mall over the Christmas holidays; we had several successful playdates where the children didn’t injure or maim each other; and as well as spending time with my beloved cheeky cherubs, I finally caught up with mum friends I hadn’t seen in ages.

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I’m not moving, I’m really not!

I feel a lot more relaxed than I did before the holidays – and not particularly thrilled about getting back to crack-of-dawn starts (why do schools in Dubai have to begin at 7.45am?), packed lunches, homework and the cat-walk that is the Dubai school drop-off.

But, what I won’t miss is the need to keep your little ones entertained every day, for fourteen hours a day – with new ideas and venues required each day and no afternoon at Grannies to break up the holiday.

If you’re not a parent, I may need to explain:

It starts early, shortly after sunrise and while your tightly shut eyes are still flitting from side-to-side in dreamy REM sleep.

They come bounding in, full of the joys of the morning, and in unison chorus, “Mumm-eeee, what are we doing today?”

If you ignore them (say, you bury your head in your pillow), they simply try again… on a loop:

“Mumm-eeee, WHERE are we going today?”

They know you’ll have to think of somewhere to take them out to, because if you don’t, you’ll be the first to throw crockery at the wall.

There may then be a period of play (or perhaps TV) punctuated by sibling spats, but by 11am, the antsiness has started to build.

“Mumm-eee, I’m bored,” you’ll hear, followed by: “I SAID, I’m bored!”

“I’m SUPER bored!” the other one chips in, not to be outdone.

And, believe me, this isn’t music to your ears. So you trigger ‘the plan for the day’. You run round the house, packing beach bags, filling water bottles, wrapping snacks, looking for lost items. You give them a quick lunch so you don’t arrive somewhere with whiny, hungry children. You even get them to go to the toilet, find the swimming goggles and run a brush over your own hair.

“Right, let’s go,” you pant. “Shoes on.”

Only to be met with cries of:

“Awwww, muuum! It’s my favourite programme… why can’t we just stay home today?”

Cue: a further 10 minutes spent cajoling them out of the house.

As I said, it’s been lovely, but I’m revelling in the mummy break today!

Rant alert: A mother’s comeuppance

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Last year, our morning routine was too good to be true: BB was picked up by bus and whisked off to school in a blink, while LB went to a nursery inside our compound.

Workwise, I could do a whole day in the office as a freelance, or bits and pieces at home – the sum of which were a drop in the ocean really in terms of the household budget, but at least made me feel like I was contributing in some small way.

But kids, they tend to start growing up, don’t they? And so it’s still something of a shock to me that this year I have two boys in two different schools (the hope is that in about 3 years’ time, the waiting list fairy will smile on us and BB will join his brother).

Why such an early school start? I’ve heard that in Australia, children with a 9.15am start go surfing first

“You have to leave by 7.20am to get to LB’s school,” my good friend warned, with a knowing, slightly worried look clouding her eyes (she knows I’m not great in the mornings).

And today, I found out why. Despite this school being nearby, to get there for the 7.50am start, you need to set out at least half an hour before to avoid the argy-bargying that goes on round the roundabaout, the tussle for parking spots and the queue snaking its way from the highway.

The drop-off completed on the late side, I headed back to our compound, thinking positive thoughts about going to the gym and getting groceries – all before 8.45am.

Thwarted. A power cut meant another hot and sticky, Bikram-style workout and at the store, it was as if Halloween had come early, with an assistant taking shoppers round with a torch, shining the beam down the dark aisles like a policeman scanning a dingy alleyway for baddies.

But my biggest bugbear this morning: LB is only at school for what feels like 20 minutes. His pick-up is earlier than nursery, just about giving mums enough time to do the shopping, come home, put the kettle on and go to the loo before heading back to the school to collect a child who will need entertaining all afternoon.

How being back on the school run, with less child-free time than before, feeling like a shadowy figure at the other school (BB’s back on the bus, bless him) and foraging around the grocery store with a flashlight is progress, I’m not sure.

I’m not going to get any work done this year, am I?

Rant over. Tomorrow I’ll beat the time thief. I’ll be out the door at 7.20am. Sharp.

Back to school: The Dubai drop off

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Mothers across Dubai were either breathing a huge sigh of relief or sobbing into their hankies this morning as they dropped their children at school for the start of the new term.

But rather than simply depositing your offspring into the classroom roughly on time, it seems there are plenty of tactics you can use (some of them underhand) if you want to achieve a flawless drop off. Much is doubtless universal, but there are certainly some skills that are specific to Dubai schools.

Tips and tricks:

● Even if you only drop off one child, make sure you drive your 7-seater SUV right up to the school gates.

● Drive at speed, prepare to race other parents from the red light, bully your way round the roundabouts and take every opportunity to jump the queue.

Creating the illusion of a six-hour workout is a useful skill

● Ignore the car parking attendants and remember to cut up your best friend to get that prime parking spot.

● When alighting from your car, greet your friend with a cheery smile and a wave.

● Pay special attention to your chosen outfit. Currently trending is gym wear, preferably black. Whether or not you actually go straight to the gym from the drop off is entirely irrelevant.

● Make sure you and your children are perfectly laundered. Even the slightest trace of toothpaste, breakfast cereal, chocolate, snot, vom or poo will make itself glaringly apparent at the worst moment.

● Although a huge pair of sunglasses will hide a plethora of cosmetic tardiness, make sure your nails are perfect and you hair is pristine.

● Do not rush or run. Do not push or drag your child. Irrespective of what is actually happening, glide serenely through the school with a relaxed and happy expression.

● Greet each member of staff and wish them good morning. Train your children to do the same.

● When engaging in small talk with other parents keep to the following subjects: how charming the children are, how much the children are growing, how lovely everyone looks, the weather.

● Never admit to another mother any homework not done, lost library books, tantrums endured either at home or in the car, diarrhoea or head lice.

● Of course, all of the above also applies during pick up – although you must ensure that whatever you wear is entirely different from the outfit you were sporting only a few hours earlier.

● The only possible exception to this rule is you may return in the same gym wear, creating the aura of a potential six-hour work out. Sweat patches, however, are not acceptable.

Organised Mum’s fait accompli

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My boys are attending different schools this academic year (long story), so this week, whilst prodding them with an iron poker to prevent them napping in the car, I’ve been running from pillar to post, spending a small fortune on two sets of (different) uniforms, shoes, lunch boxes and water cups.

I’ve tried really hard to get it right, to make sure each boy is kitted out properly, with well-fitting shorts and shirts, that are labelled, and with hats that I know will get lost (due to the sun, there’s a no-hat/no-play policy).

You think you’ll just get it done on time, then you bump into her: Organised Mum. Yummy mummy-of-three-hen-pecked-children extraordinaire.

Organised Mum browses the uniform store at leisure, while everyone else’s shopping trip screeches to a halt due to the out-of-stock hats

You meet her at the uniform shop – except she’s not there to buy uniforms. She bought those in June, long before the store ran out of book bags and PE shirts. She’s there to buy a new wall planner, because last year’s didn’t have enough space for all their extra curricula activities.

“Are you ready for school?” she trills, with the smug air of someone who could quite easily spend this week by the pool. “Olivia can’t wait for school to start, can you darling?”

You see, Organised Mum has every reason to gloat, because she spent her entire summer planning for this moment. The Organised family went to the Rockies to climb mountains in July, with two weeks in St Tropez on the way back. But she never took her eye off the start of the new term.

Her children were measured and fitted for shoes on a stop-over in London; haircuts were done at Vidal Sassoon in Mayfair; her maid sewed satin labels on while they were away; and she restocked their stationery supplies with some stylish new lines sold exclusively at a French boutique.

Organised Mum has all the time in the world this week, and it’s beyond her that other mothers might still be buying last-minute uniforms. She finds a wall planner she likes and asks at the till if she can pre-order a diary for 2013. As she discusses typefaces, the working mothers in the line behind her, with approximately 10 minutes to get all their back-to-school supplies and get back to their desks, start silently cursing.

She leaves her details and the queue exhales a sigh of relief as she moves aside, but she’s not finished yet. With Mr Organised, a big cheese in oil pipelines, away in Saudi, she fancies a little more adult interaction and asks what activities we’re signing up for this term.

“We’re doing some extra French tuition,” she says. “The girls practised so hard on holiday. Go on, Trixabelle, say something in French. She sounds so clever when she speaks French.

“And we’ll be at the swimming trials, of course. Harry was very inspired by the Olympics … You never know!” she tinkles proudly.

“Maybe see you at the pool later,” she calls, as she breezes out the door into the sunshine.

Maybe not, Organised Mum. Some of us still have shopping to do.