Tag Archives: Dubai mum

The school holiday whammy

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That’s it: in my next life, I’m coming back as an expat child.

They get soooo many holidays. I mean, it is actually a bit ridiculous. My boys went back to school after two long months of summer holiday at the very end of August. They were in school for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Then the government called Eid, and turned it into a week-long holiday.

For those who don’t live here, the UAE has a tendency to call holidays just when long-suffering mums really don’t want them. Case in point: the Expo win. Fireworks would have sufficed, but no. School (but not work) was cancelled as part of the celebrations. Helpful? Not.

Then there was the time it looked like it might rain, and the schools were closed. The day became known as Spit-mageddon:

Look at all this rain! Good job the kids were safe at home

Look at all this rain! Good job the kids were safe at home

This last week of holiday has felt like an extension of summer. Did those two weeks of school even happen? Or were they just a murky dream? A hallucinatory period of time and space in which to get things done. I might be being rather ungrateful for this holiday, but really we could have done without it – it’s still too hot to do anything outdoors; our new, half-built compound doesn’t have a pool; my oldest is spending too long on his computer; and I’m at that stage with my chatterbox youngest where I can see his mouth moving but can’t really hear what he’s saying and can do nothing but nod at whatever his moving lips are trying to assault me with.

I’m so ready for them to get back to school properly.

But … guess what? My youngest is back in school for two weeks, then there’s another week off for half-term.

Facepalm.

Quiet car anthems

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There are some mornings when Son2 doesn’t say anything on the way to school. Then there are other mornings where it’s like having a pint-size dictator sitting in the backseat, and you realise that, compared to dealing with a small child, pregnancy was really a nine-month massage.

Today, I banned Son2 from bringing the iPad into the car, so he grabbed the Kindle instead. For some reason, there was heavier traffic than normal, and I was just attempting to merge onto a fast road when he started shouting.

“MUM! LOOK! Stop the car, quick, look!”

It was something on the Kindle he’d found incredibly funny.

xxxxxx

“I’m just a bit busy right now darling!”

“I can’t look,” I replied, keeping a watchful eye on the slow-moving Datsun Sunny in front of me, and the much faster Land Cruiser I could see in my mirror about to sling-shot across three lanes. “I’m driving.”

“Just look quickly!” (What could be more pressing than Robo Shark turning mines into missiles, he’s thinking.)

“I really can’t!” A motorbike was now vying for pole position too.

He reluctantly agreed he’d have to wait for me to look until we’d parked. But then something on the radio disagreed with him. At age 5, he’s developed opinions about whether the DJs are talking too much and which songs he likes – his favourite, ironically, being I Crashed my Car into the Bridge by Maytrixx.

I switched channels. I wasn’t in the mood for an argument and knew I’d soon have the car to myself and could then rock out to some quiet car anthems (a mum has to take her chance to rock out when she can).

At school, I kissed him goodbye and his eyes suddenly looked downcast. “Don’t go to work Mum. What takes you so long there?” he asked, forlornly. “Just quit!”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I asked him why he didn’t want me to work.

“Because I love you,” he said quietly, as a teardrop squeezed its way out of one eye and trickled down his cheek.

Miss you kiddos when I’m gone all day.