School Photos (A Grumble)...

(Apologies for the Grumble, but that’s where I am today, Grumble Town (it's south of London, but so are a lot of places, Africa for one...)).

I get it. 

I do, I get it. Getting a lovely picture of your little ones, done by a reet proper soul stealer photographer person is lovely. 

They're all dressed up smart for school, someone hopefully has attacked the younger ones with a comb, most of the face muck has been cleared off. Anything visibly and obviously terrible and not meant to be there, has been removed...

Photographer: 'Er... without the banner please'

TeenBoy15: <Lowers 'Palps only wanted peace' sign>

Photographer: 'And a nice big smile...'

CLICK

Photographer: 'No finger gestures please'

CLICK

Photographer: 'Better... but no finger gestures at all please you’re not from the ghetto'

CLICK

Photographer: <Sighs> '... and phone away... '

CLICK

TeenBoy15: 'ARGHGGHGHG MY SOUL!!!!' <Sues>

… And the photo you get comes with a reasonable frame, so you can instantly use it for darts hang it on the wall for all to see. 

Cracking!

And they give you free postage, and I frikkin’ love free postage!

That is assuming you can decide if you want the photos in the nano-seconds (a week) they give you to decide.

Any "I'm a bit busy right now, I'll do that later" and you've missed the free postage window, it's now at least a kidney for postage, maybe a leg.

I'm sure they could allow for a double grace period. The first just to scare you, and then a real proper one that is actually a fake and then you get another.

There isn't much to do either, really I don't have to do anything apart from pick the pics and pay!

Because I am already sending the kids into school looking as good as I can be bothered to do possible. Ironed, washed, right clothes on right body parts. Shoes matching. Hair reasonable for polite society, not Halloween bush from the nether realms.

On the day of photos (assuming I remembered), I shove them out (lovingly) looking extra clean and smart. Then a few days later there's a little surprise in their bags, of the photo proofs all saying with text saying "Don't just take a photo of this image and print out yourself" or "sample" or "help, I am being forced to develop photos against my will".

Hair by Daddel Salon (appointments only).

Then all I have to do is pick the "package" I want, pay and then sit back and revel in my lovely new archery targets pictures.

Simples.

Expensive simples actually.

Although is it really expensive? Annoyingly it's notly.

It turns out that had I organised a professional photographer myself, it would have cost at least 1 maybe 2 hundred bananas, and it would have to be at the weekend. Therefore adding my time to the overall banana cost, so let's say 250 bananas max, 150 if it’s a mate that works for bananas and owes you a favour because you lent them a really cool game and they lost it. 

For my bananas I would get billions, literally and actually billions of pics, all looking very similar. Which I'd never do anything with most of them, except one, that every time I looked at it always gave me the heebie-jeebies because it was just too perfect and we were all smiling and looking like we loved and liked each other's company. 

OMFB it would be weird.

<Shudders>

So really, despite the minor heart attacks, each time I have to hand over twelve watermelons for ONE SINGLE image, it's cheaper than it would cost me to do it myself.

So that's a positive... O...

Brainzilla: 'Nice! You realise whilst grumbling you’ve managed to justify their costs? Your main grumble! Out arguing yourself this time, new all time low..."

<Snaps> It is not a new all time low! Top three at worst. What about the noodle incident?

Brainzilla: 'Fair, top three then'

Then there’s the choice.

Oh my sweet deep fried brie, the choice.

So. Much. Choice.

I just want the "normal sized pic please" option. Just like the previous one I had. Matching size would be a win. Same frame and you’re rocking my world not literally.

But that’s not the choice you get is it… IS IT???

You want the choice? 

You can't handle the choice!!!

For example: Pack A is eighteen separate pictures. 

Eighteen! 

I haven’t got that many relatives that I palm pics off to as Xmas pressies. 

And I certainly don’t need eighteen different sized pics of each child on the walls at home. The house would look weird. 

Yeah, come on in…

New Person: ‘O… what a lot of children pics you have…’ <Is still looking over the walls, the floor, the doors, the ceiling… the windows… the sofa… my t-shirt and trousers>

New Person: ‘Actually I have to leave... Now...’ <Leaves in a rush>

<Sighes> Damn you PACK A!!! <Shakes fist at the sky>

And Pack B is only a little better, there’s only fifteen in that.

Remember I want one. One picture.

Pack C is for the nutters, there’s thirty seven. Honestly! 

Thirty seven all the same, but of various sizes, pics.

WHY??? Who would ever need that? I suppose if I was planning a leaflet campaign that could be handy… But thirty seven!

Pack D is heading towards sensible, thirteen pics. 

Pack E three pics. One for each grandparent, and one for me! Which sounds good.

Except that I know despite my Mum despite being very sweet about it, she’s enough pics of my kids. 

She has thirty thousand grand kids roughly, there’s only so much photo hanging real-estate she has in the house. 

(P.S. Mum you’ll never guess what you’re getting for Xmas this year!!! Lard.

Then assuming your will to purchase hasn’t consumed you in a ball of hating and loathing, there’s the fun options.

Fun <Rolls eyes at you>...

A mouse mat! So you can shove a piece of plastic around over the face of your most cherished one.

A cup! So you can fill it with boiling water every day and see their face as you do it, or enjoy putting your lips to something near their face all day.

A stuffed toy wearing a t-shirt with your baby's face on it! WTAF?

And my personal favourite, and new this year to me a water bottle!

Boy8: 'You getting a pic of me?'

Of course I am! <Grumbles on the inside>

<Looks at photo> Yeah it's lovely...

<Looks at price> ... lovely...

Boy8: 'I thought though, that maybe you would want to get the water bottle too!'

Have you met me?

You thought all kinds of wrong then didn't you

Amazing. Every word of what you just said was wrong.

Why would I get that? <Is grateful he doesn't want the mouse matt option>

Why would I want a water bottle with your face on it, or is it for you? 

Why do you want that?

Boy8: 'So we can see my face on the bottle!'

But I can see your face now!

Boy8: 'But not on a bottle!'

... I'm fine with that missing in my life, plus I can see your face now! <Slaps both his face cheeks playfully>

Boy8: <Rubs cheeks> 'But when a friend asks where Boy8 is, I can show them the bottle instead!'

Your friends call you Boy8?

But they'd see you, and your face, with the bottle... <Is getting confused>

Boy8: 'Yes, but they wouldn't know that!' <Says triumphantly>

… but… 

… <Concludes I have lost this discussion>

How about I have a look later and see if I can afford it, OK?

Boy8: <Skips off happy>

<Already knows how that 'look' will go>

<Only orders one water bottle>

And then the option that makes me want to break down and weep every time.

You can buy the digital images so you can print them yourself. Hooray!

Oh sweet, well surely that’s cheaper… Short story it’s not.

The digital pics are actually more than the reasonable Pack, urghghgh.

Fine they gotta make money, that’s the world we live in.

But urghghgh and yuk and urghhgh again. It just leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

It’s like picking up a cold cup of tea and you end up having a sip and regretting it. Urghghg.

Then you have to make another cuppa to clear away the taste, and it’s not the same cuppa as the cold one was, it’s good, but you miss the one you didn’t finish, somehow that one was better, everything was right about it, and it hurts, it hurts bad… I may have lost my way with this metaphor… run away! Run away!

Accomplice: ‘I thought you said it was gonna be a big score?’

It was! These are worth a fortune!

Accomplice: ‘Money would’ve been better!’

<Is eating ill gotten gains> … suppose… but then I’d be hungry and thirsty

Accomplice: ‘Next time we hit a bank’

Sperm or blood?

Anyhoo…

When I started writing this blog post I had only TeenBoy15’s photo proof to decide on, and Boy8’s.

But lucky me, Miss11's turned up today.

I now have three pics to decide on, one of Miss11’s first year at secondary school, one of TeenBoy15’s last year at secondary school, Boy8 continuing at the same school. And I'll let you into a secret, one of them, I am not saying which, I don’t actually like the picture. 

I don't want it.

So do I hand over, begrudgingly, my hard earned 45 cantaloupes and get all three pics.

Or do I have to look into one of their little eyes and explain why this time, despite me loving them ever so much, and they being every so lovely and wonderful, I didn’t get your pic as you looked a bit crapo that day.

It’s a tricky choice. 

But I am sure I’ll make the right choice for me and mine.

<Dives into paddling pool filled with cantaloupe juice, has the best time>

<Is sick later due to the cantaloupe juice, but it feels unrelated>

X

Why on Earth Did I Panic About it?

Normally when I see Boy8 has his partner in crime with him, Miss11. 

But somehow the planets aligned, the moon had skipped and danced its lily white butt into the right place, and the rarest of rare events happened.

It was just Boy8 and I, for a whole week of the summer.

It must be magic!!! Miss11 is away at Guide camp. 

To be fair TeenBoy15 was actually there the whole week too. But he was very, very, very busy doing all those teen things he needs to be doing. Teening as it were.

TeenBoy15: <Appears, looking bored>

TeenBoy15! It's good to see you! What have you been up to?

Teen: 'Stuff'

Great I will wring your little neck, wonderful to hear, I love our little chats! Are you staying for food?

TeenBoy15: 'no'

Oh... You sure <Gestures to TeenBoy15's utterly favourite foods all laid out on the table>

TeenBoy15: <Silence continuing to mean no thanks Dad me old mucker (well that's what I choose to hear anyways)>

Are you going out? Where to? And when are you getting back?

TeenBoy15: 'Late, friend X's house. Just came home to change'

TeenBoy15: <Heads off to change>

Oh... I thought maybe we could... <Realises he's gone>

<Milliseconds later, TeenBoy15 appears in very similar outfit> 

TeenBoy15: 'I'll text you if anything changes'

OK cool! Hey, have a look at this... <Realises he's gone>

<Put's DBZ hat most awesome thing in the universe back in it's box>

... <Sighs>

I’ve a plan to make fruit picking easier!!!

<Is knocked out by first coconut>

So whilst TeenBoy15 was technically there, it’s mainly to make walk through cameos. Joygasm.

However: silver lining. It's just me and Boy8 to play for 5 solid days!

I've no work, he's no school. There's so much we can do it's almost crippling. Not much money though, so I will have to be more creative than money-handing-out-ery. 

Which I can do. I BELIEVEEEEEE!!

So pre-Boy8 arriving I make a list of all the stuff locally me and Boy8 can go do.

Then I remove everything from that list that costs above 4p too much.

Second, I add to the list everything we can do at home that Boy8 likes and doesn't annoy me too much.

It's nothing fancy, there's 'Have a bundle' in there, watch more Clone Wars, play board games, convince Boy8 to help me in the garden. Go through Boy8's bedroom and make him try on everything that seems to be age 0-4, see if it still fits...

Boy8: Ow ow owwwWwww 

You're fine

Boy8: <Right in my face> OWWWW

Is it too tight? <Innocently>

Boy8: It says age 2, I'm 8!

Must've shrunk <Throws top into charity pile>

Now try this... <Holds up age 3 trousers>

So fully armed with lots of plans, you'd think I'd be happy, confident, and ready for our week!

I bloody wasn't, I panicked. I panicked for about three days, worrying I hadn’t got any huge amazing plans for him. Social media was like a dagger in my heart every time I looked at, everyone heading off somewhere exciting and exotic. And then there was me, with some (albeit excellent) board games to offer. 

So just before Boy8 arrived I re-panicked and organised for his mates to come over to play via smoke signals from the roof.

Then Boy8 arrived and for the hour before his mates arrived we both ran about the house tidying. Music blaring away (Muse). Although I'm pretty sure only one of us was tidying, the other was just dancing and running about, me. 

The friends arrived and they played lovely together.

Win you'd think. <Rolls eyes at you>

Except that for the entire time they were there, I wasn't needed.

Well I did have to wade in once to give some safety advice on how to play with my lightsabers and how not to break them. But that was it.

He's all big 8 now and very perfectly capable of playing with his mates without me, thank you very much.

<Wimpers>

I sat and watched, or cooked (chocolate fudge), or painted models, played guitar, sang and danced, or made them food. Pretty much I kept myself busy, on the sidelines, the water boy if you will, the 12th man, the goalie sub.

Which I found annoying, as wanted to spend time with Boy8, and I had put myself there! And nobody puts Daddy in the corner.

Boy8: Who ate all the chocolate in the chocolate cupboard?

<Looks very guilty, and is aware has chocolate around mouth, is sitting in a pile of wrappers, and Boy8 is pointing at me> Is it me?

Boy8: Yes, now go sit in the corner and think about what you have done.

<Waddles to corner> 

<Thinks about what I've done and is utterly cool with it>

The friends leave, good time had by all. Blah blah blah...

And then wanting to undo my folly of sidelining myself, I go for a easy win move.

So Boy8... Fancy getting McCrap for dinner?

<Is hugged a lot>

Yes, yes, that's enough, come on let's go...

We walk to McCraps nattering away to each other. No idea what we said now, but it was lovely and he was happy, the sun was out, birds were shouting at each other in the trees, and we just meandered along. No rush. Walking anywhere with any of them is lovely as we just natter. I cannot recommend it enough.

It's not until we are sitting and he is opening his McCrap Kids meal and getting the toy out and showing me his for now Pokemon cards, that I realise how happy this is making him.

True, I am not happy I've spent any money, and true we're in McCrap not McHealthy, or even McWholesome. But he's so happy, he's out having his favourite treat with his Daddy and I've got nothing but time for him. And he knows it.

And I know it. And he knows that I know he knows it.

Boy8: <Gives me a look>

What?

Boy8: You don’t think we took too many balloons do you?

The sign said help yourself! I give those children one to share! It's fine!

Boy8: <Gives me another look>

As we walk back, McBalloon in tow, we spot blackberries in a hedge near the house so I suggest we stop and pick them for a crumble. Boy8 is keen, surprisingly and dashes home to get a plastic tub.

He brings back one the size of a middle-aged walrus. He's clearly optimistic about how many berries are actually here. Still, it doesn't matter.

We pick, most disappear into the voluminous plastic container, some go into Boy8. I refrain due to a well justified seed in the teeth phobia.

But eventually one gives a very saucy ‘Go on, eat me’ challenge, and not wanting to appear wussy to blackberry, I eat it and spend the next fifty years few hours getting flipping seeds out. 

<Grumbles>

Then together (with Green Day backing music this time) we make the crumble.

I show him how to use a big knife to chop stuff. I let him measure everything. He pours everything in. 

Which is a bit weird, as normally I just give him bits to do. But I realise suddenly why I am letting him do so much...

I've got the time to do it. <Chink, coin wobble-wobble sound>

We've no plans, there's nothing to get ready for, I can show him things slowly. I watch as he nearly cuts his fingers off cutting butter. And correct him until he isn’t nearly carving through his own fingers. Eventually he’s doing it well.

And I'll have time to tidy up later, so although it feels Boy8 is making a mess as he cooks on purpose, he isn't. He's just 8 and learning how to do everything for the first few times. 

Bet I was this bad last week at 8 too.

Eventually we have a crumble made, we cook it, and sit to eat it watching a Clone Wars episode. It's delicious and I've soon eaten mine.

Boy8 liked the crumble, the fruit not so much. But who cares.

In the past few hours, without any real plan, or idea of what we're gonna do, me and Boy8 have spent some utterly wonderful time together and that's the thing I really, really, wanted to do! (without spending lots of wonga).

Cooked and served, for that extra touch of class, 

in a lasagne dish because why the smeg not!

After putting a very happy Boy8 to bed, I have a firm word with myself…

Boy8 just needs your attention and time…

Brainzilla: Yeah ya muppet!

… He's not TeenBoy15 who just wants your money...

Brainzilla: Yeah numpty!

… Boy8 just wants your time and attention.

Brainzilla: You are such an idiot!

Oy! That’s not helping…

Brainzilla: Not trying to! <Runs, smashes into skull, has a headache>

I know giving Boy8 my time sounds obv. And I've gotta, you’ve gotta, we’ve gotta, everyone’s gotta wonder how on earth I forgot that. As it was only 7 years back I was getting this right with TeenBoy15. 

I've been Dadding (real word) for the last 15 years!

I know this... but somehow forgot and let myself get all wound up for no reason.

So I face myself in the mirror, and tell myself firmly in my most grown up voice, not to be such a panicky twat next time.

X