It's nearly over. My long break. The six weeks of the year when I can lie-in, go to bed late, catch up on all the programmes I have recorded over the last year and go shopping. I can go to the gym, go swimming, go for long walks and bike rides....
Except, of course, it is also the children's holiday. And since I am apparently incapable of entertaining them in the house without the television being on permanently, we are out everyday.
I have also apparently turned into my father and obsessively check the weather forecast, making the picnics and car journeys depend on the wisdom of Tomasz Schafernaker and Zeb Soames.
So this holiday I have been "Supermum" as defined by television advertising. It goes like this;
Scene 1: SUPERMUM is woken from pristine white bedding by two (never three) gorgeous children, one boy and one girl, ideally under 11, gently patting her face with soft teddy bears (not screaming "Mummy,I want a wee!" from their bedrooms. They are excited about the day ahead. They do not know what it will involve exactly but SUPERMUM has planned it so it will be good. SUPERMUM is happy, smiling and stretching, looking fresh-faced. Next to her in bed, a clean-shaven dad buries his head under the pillow, but probably gets up and makes her a cup of tea.
Scene 2: SUPERMUM is making sandwiches, loaded with salad on wholemeal bread while gorgeous children eat a healthy, balanced breakfast cereal in an open-plan kitchen. (There is a t.v. but it is not on.) The work surface is clean and tidy and SUPERMUM is reassured that germs have been banished as ther children spill milk on the table.
Scene 3: SUPERMUM is driving a mid range family car to somewhere exciting. Gorgeous children are, in fact, so excited that they forget to pinch each other throughout the journey, complain about not staying at home to play on the XStation, or attempt to draw their mother into involved conversations that distract her from "Woman's Hour".
Scene 4: A short scene. SUPERMUM and children on some fairground ride, looking into an aquarium tank, splashing in the sea together (SUPERMUM is not on the beach, fully clothed and shivering, but fully involved, up to her average bosom), gazing in awe, open mouthed / holding hands / pointing at some large dead animal suspended from a ceiling. All scenarios accommodate SUPERMUM and both children who are willing participants and are easily contained within a standard ride vehicle.
Scene 5: Exhausted gorgeous children are tucked in by a smiling SUPERMUM, who then joins husband for a medium sized glass of red, a home-cooked meal and no television, facebook or phones.
But now, it's over. At a normal half term I would be celebrating the week ahead, but now I am moaning about the fact I have only 1/6th left. And somehow, I didn't do anything I needed to.
