I have been trying to blog all week about my first week of moderation and to think of a way to make it interesting. Truth is: I can’t. At the back of my mind though, I have it in my head that this is a teacher blog so I have to get some teachery (totally a word) stuff on here too. What you have then is an amalgamation of the week’s events where I try and fail at my first attempt at moderation, survive a vomit filled night and attend a birthday party where three of the girls all wore the same dress.
She came through the door.
‘Mummy, can I have some big girl crispies?’
Granddad informed me that she had already eaten a lot today. However, I had two more scripts to moderate and if I did that then that would be another complete batch. I gave her the crisps and the next hour passed without drama. I am not the cook in the house and Daddy was at Parent’s Evening so as a treat I suggested that we go to the local garden centre for tea. (How lucky are my children?) We were putting on our shoes when the girl put her hand to her mouth.
‘Do you want to be sick?’ I asked.
She shook her head.
‘Shall we go to the toilet?’
She shook her head.
‘Let’s just go for a wee before we leave anyway,’
‘Noooooo, I don’t neeeeed a wee.’ She said. She raised her hand to her mouth again.
‘Do you need a poo then?’
She shook her head.
‘Are you going to be sick?’
She nodded her head.
I grabbed her to rush to the toilet, but the pointless conversation you have just read above meant that we were too late and BLEUGH. All over the living room floor. Twice. I didn’t panic. We jumped over it and made it to the toilet just in time for her to stand over it and just spit.
After wiping everything up and making sure that the girl got fluids, I went to check on the boy. I had left him on his play mat. The ninja flipping Little Dude had somehow made it over to the TV and was currently face planting the laminate floor. Oh.
The night was pretty awful with the girl waking and retching every hour. For Friday then, I envisaged a trip to the doctors followed by another day of being trapped in the house with a poorly princess, Peppa Pig and unmoderated coursework staring at me. However, she woke, smiled and asked for a Fruitshoot so off to soft play we went. Hurrah!
That kind of brings us back around to today. We have been to a joint third birthday party and I have two very tired but content children on my hands. Now, I assume that three years ago there was nothing much on television one night as most of my friends all had babies within days of each other. This means lots of birthday presents and parties – which is lovely for the children as they are now growing up and playing together. However, with me being the most unimaginative birthday present buyer ever, I think my friends have come to expect a present from Next. I am worried that the kids have too. ‘Oh look the boring lady who brings us shirts every year is here, yey’. But hey, at least clothes don’t take up a load of room in your dining room or living room, right guys? Needless to say, three children at the party (including my girl) were all wearing the same dress that yours truly bought them for their birthdays. You’re welcome! They looked cute though and I promise that they weren’t purchased on a ‘buy one get two free’ offer! Fortunately, today’s parties were boys’ but it’s safe to say that had they been born girls, then they too would have received a grey spotty dress for their third birthday.
Just before I sign off. After returning home from the parties, I noticed that my first batch of marked moderation had been returned back to me with a request to do it all again. I had filled out the paperwork incorrectly but on a Postit note have been reassured not to feel ‘downhearted’ as I started with a ‘problematic centre’. So that’s twenty two to go then…
Oh and just before going to bed last night, the other half was sick. BLEUGH indeed.
Pictures: That Dress! and The Little Dude rolling amongst my work.