Back from the bogus battlefield

The children are delighted as he, very sensibly, came back bearing gifts.

He is fighting jet lag and beginning his transition out of the battlefield big brother house.

I have worked in intense team environments and I understand that it takes a while to re-adjust to mundane living.

His photos are magnificent - some taken from a Huey helicopter, they depict miles of flat, barren, landscapes with many tanks. It’s like he’s been playing a giant game of Risk.

He is covered in kids as they crawl over him, coating him with elbows and knees, delighted to have him back.

Solo parenting is hard work and I am glad that the parent back-up has returned to take some of the burden away. I am very excited because Daddy is doing the swimming run this week.

The kids have swimming lessons at Five Rivers Leisure Centre. This afterschool activity has to be run with military precision because the timings are very tight. Both of the lessons start at 4pm. I have to collect the children from school, bring them back home, change them out of the school uniform into the swimmers with normal clothes over the top. They have to have a snack in the car to give them an energy boost in preparation for the lesson.

We hurtle to the sports centre in about 20 minutes, and herd them in to get ready for the lesson. When you enter the swimming pool, it’s a blast furnace, obviously to accommodate the swimmers, but as a fully dressed mother this is like walking into a sauna fully clothed. The centre runs a production line of lessons so timings are crucial.

Having ensured each child is in the right place, I have 25 minutes to sit and wait. Once this up, I have to rush in, and bring them back together.

It’s like herding cats as they both want to go and play in the activity pool, which they are not allowed to do.

As a fully clothed adult on the poolside, it’s very challenging to persuade two wet children that what they really need to do is get out and wash their hair.

Especially as I don’t want to stand on the edge screaming at them like a deranged banshee so have to nicely coerce and cajole.

The hair wash is the next challenge; washing a squirming five-year-old’s hair in a shower, while clothed and in over 30 degrees of heat, is not for the fainthearted.

I have also learned the choice of casual clothes is important, having made the mistake last week of dressing my daughter in a pair of leggings. Trying to get a damp five-year-old into a pair of leggings was akin to getting a goat into a pair of tights.

Needless to say I am looking forward to the ex’s take on this marvellous afterschool experience and am very pleased to have a week off.