Saturday, 4 June 2016

It's June, So It Is

It’s here, in case you hadn’t noticed.  June.

I know it’s here because …

 My new Gwen Stephanie lipstick melted into a blob in the car, all 28 squids worth

Freshly cut grass regrows the second my back is turned

The kitchen and bathroom are permanently covered in cut grass, tramped into the tiles, with wet feet from the paddling pool and 7pm water fights

School jumpers, shoes and homework notebooks look like they might disintegrate before my eyes and definitely won’t make it til the end of the school year

No amount of soaking feet in basins of soapy water can remove the dirt from little peoples toes. None.  Toes that I really could plant spuds in, or maybe tomatoes

Written homework is as enduring, and takes as long as walking the gadget aisles in Lidl with young children 

When I’m not gardening, I’m gouging thorns out of my fingers. Or my toes (When will I learn that gardening in flip flops is never a good idea).  Spud growing potential is pretty high for me too

Toasted bread is the closest thing to a cooked meal in the house

The children don’t believe me that it is actually REALLY, REALLY late and refuse to go to bed

the imminent return of the Leaving Cert makes me feel sick, even after all these years

The child who is allergic to summer clothes gives in, admits that ‘’it’s warm’’ and allows the surgical removal of a favourite hooded top and looks for a pair of shorts

The child who is allergic to summer clothes will only were shorts like ‘‘Joe and Tom’s’’, so I find myself stalking two boys to check out their threads

I can’t keep up with the notes in the school bag, with requests for odd sums of money and outlining details of end of year events, one thing more exciting than the other, and lament that my children have better social lives than I

The notes from school are only surpassed by flyers about summer camps.  They all cost a fortune and don’t suit a working momma’s hours.  I consider remortgaging the house just to get me by til August.

The sunsets take my breathe away.  The sunrises too.  And hawthorn in bloom.  And daisies. And roses.  And quite frankly, everything

I’m late for work because fine minutes in the garden in the morning turns into thirty

I already have a mild sense of panic about Back-to-School, even before the holidays have begun

The annual battle with fake tan begins.  The tan wins and I look like I’ve had skin grafts.  I wonder if the world could cope with my pasty legs this year

I’m thinking that September would be a good time to resume housework

I can sit by the roadside and gorge on a punnet of Wexford strawberries until I have a pain in my belly

I think that I’m lovely in my summer dress, until I see the photographs and realise that the lovely dress was totally see through.  Like Diana’s skirt in THAT photograph by John Minihan (from Athy, y'know ?) when she first got it together with Prince Charles.  When I was a child, I idolised her.  I didn't expect to emulate her quite like this.

Neighbours stop you while you are out walking the dog and hand you a freshly pulled lettuce

I eat the fresh lettuce standing by the sick, with a sprinkle of lettuce, but haven't washed it that well and feel the slime of a slug as I swallow.  I wonder if that means that I'm not a vegetarian any more

There’s a much needed Bank Holiday and the sun shines and it’s good to be alive.  Hooray !

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