And the award for bad parent…

apparently remains with us!

I just need to get this off my chest. 

So I know I said I would rarely discuss the teens now they’re so growed up n’ all, but seriously, I think this needs to be put out there. 

The eldest has now left to university and back in September we dutifully did what many uni students’ parents do and pack up the car with ridiculous amounts of boxes (I mean seriously, how can one kid with no income have so much stuff!) and load it into and onto the car and head off to their darling’s first experience of living away from home.

I am, it has to be said, a bit of an organiser. I had been preparing this for months. I think I’m probably going to get a back lash from people that know me, once again outing me as a bit of a porky pier who had been preparing probably since he began his A levels…poor boy. There were boxes of everything he would ever need. I did not want my darling first born to suffer becoming an outcast for not having that all important potato peeler for all the mash he was going to make (he hates potato by the way!). 

On arrival we discovered that we were not at the top of the crap-o-meter stakes and that others most certainly had as much if not more. Our child could perhaps have looked almost pauper-ish! The university, prepared for the onslaught-of -unecessary-shit, provided supermarket bread loading carts, you know the ones that delivery drivers use to deliver stack loads of bread to the supermarkets?  

We trundled ours, complete with a rather sweet and helpful year 2 student to the elder child’s new flat, and off loaded.

Of course as all new parents to this malarky do, we hung around in the doorway, tried to organise his room for him and generally obstructed his cool. We eventually took the hint and took ourselves off to the hotel room as we’d promised to pick him up the next day for a ‘final’ hot and substantial meal before 10 weeks of pot noodles, and we’d also promised a supermarket trolley dash, only I was doing the dashing, so it went pretty slowly hee hee!

We hadn’t got ourselves more than 10 minutes down the road when the phone rang…OMG! Mother panic alert…it’s all gone wrong, he hates it, he’s homesick, he’s broken himself, someone’s broken him, omg, omg!!


I can see the pannini maker, the smoothie maker and the bottle of vodka (thanks, btw) but did you get me any pillows or plates or spoons?”


PS: We not only killed ourselves with our utter inability to pack theses things, but laughed ourselves senseless that there were a plethora of such frickin’ middle class items in the list of stuff he DID have. Still, my thought were:

If you make a pannini you don’t need a plate, the smoothie can be drunk directly from the flask you make it in and…if you drink all the vodka you won’t need a pillow, let alone a bed!  You’re lucking out kid to have such great parents!!! 

Happy Friday x

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