179. Virtual school

Great!

My kids are going back to school today.  

And I think to myself what a wonderful world 🎵

Yet I am faced with mixed feelings. Aren't I happy that the two (darling) teenagers who are still at home with their (serene) mother will have something (structured) to do: professional teachers guiding them using this high-techn so they can master the necessary skills to go and live their lives. 

And I think to myself what a wonderful world 🎵

It starts well too. I wake up, realise it is even earlier than I thought it was. I get up and shout at Baby ... who shouts back she's awake already. I knock on my son's door (One) and head downstairs. Oh joy! My son has obeyed his mother's orders (yes, I give orders, don't you?) and left both i-Phone and i-Pad downstairs on the table.

And I think to myself what a wonderful world 🎵 

Feel good factor set to full capacity. I draw all the curtains and open the shutters and the sun is shining and the sky is pure blue. 

Baby comes down. I refrain from frowning ... She's wearing one of those hated 'hoodies' over her PJs and she's got the hood pulled over her head. I say nothing. It is early and a little chilly in the downstairs of our townhouse. Instead I go and knock (Two) on my son's bedroom door. Nothing happens but I knew that. Normal's good. We don't want too sudden a change. 

I'm still in a perfectly positive mood and I head to the kitchen. Baby has still got her hood on and I still haven't said anything. I feel chuffed about my good conduct.

'Shall we have pancakes?' I asked, probably as a move to help me keep that positive attitude as long as I can. My sixth sense tells me that this is too good to be true.

She looks at me, a touch of disbelief in her face. I hide my real motivation as I am not proud of it.

'Not a good idea?'

'Yes, it is! I do the batter, you cook them.'

Great. I shove the radio on (pop music) and we dance around the kitchen, singing loudly and badly. Her motivation is just to show her mum that she has reached the silly-teenager stage for real, mine is to wake my son up (Three). 

The batter is ready in no time. 

Time to see if my shameful motive will turn out useful. My turn to cook the pancakes, I put the first one on. I leave the double doors open allowing the smell of the melting butter and the sizzling batter to drift up the stairs and to slip under my son's bedroom door and to eventually reach his nostrils. That surely cannot fail to wake him and  to make him rush downstairs. (Four)

Nothing. Baby asks is she can have some chocolate spread.

'YES! You can have some CHOCOLATE SPREAD!' I shout out loud (Five) making Baby wince and raise an eyebrow.

We eat and chat (she has taken the hood off and seems in a good non-teenage mood). We (well I) make a lot of noise with the cutlery and the plates. (Six) 

Baby disappears for these compulsory screen sessions I hate so much. I make more coffee and fetch my laptop. Yes kids, mum still has a job to do on top of this all.

My legendary patience and my good mood are beginning to wilt. I decide six subtle attempts are enough. I cannot concentrate with this pile of pancakes next to me. And anyway it is a school day. Thousands and thousands of boys the same age as my son are sitting at their desks, so many heads bent over exercice books right now all over the country, their smug mothers smiling and congratulating themselves, happy to have invested in state-of-the-art technology for their offsprings' education while my son is snoring under the blankets.

I take a look at my laptop, take a sip of my coffee, take a deep breath and using all the cold air I can gather in my lungs I bellow:

'TIME TO GET OUT OF YOUR BED. .... NOW!' (Seven, I am still keeping count.)

I got this out of my system. It feels good. I do not even feel an ounce of shame. I want to scream at all the smug mothers to go and make pancakes.

Of course. Guess what. No movement. 

So I go for the good old or-else + major threat method. 

'YOU HAVE 2 MINUTES TO COME DOWN AND IF YOU DON'T I WILL GIVE YOUR PANCAKES TO THE DOG.' (Eight.)

Now I am worried as I think the teens (and the dogs) in our street  are going to come to my door wondering if this is not a bit early for a pancake party. Parents are going to wonder if this is appropriate on a back-to-school day.

Oh oh oh! ... I can hear ... floorboards creaking, then the noise the third step makes and then my son's head appears over the bannister. 

YES! YES! YES! I GOT HIM UP! 

He mutters a few sounds (hello? good morning? how many pancakes do I get?). I don't care. He is up. Now the smell works and as he sleep walk to the table, sits in front of the pile of pancakes and starts eating. He is even using a plate and a knife and a fork!!!

Hurray! My educational methods are working! I am a super-mum! Now what do you say to that smug mothers of bookish boys?

I decide to make no comments about too much sugar nor about being late for the first day 'back at school'. I just watch him and marvel at how he is eating pancakes with cutlery. I did not even suggest it!

And I think to myself what a wonderful world 🎵