I need a stunt double

Do you ever have those moments when you wish you could get a second version of you so that you could be in two places at once?

For all of last year Tuesdays were the worst day of the week for me in terms of time management.  And pain management for that matter.  Tuesdays were a day of hell.  I would get up in the morning as usual and get the children ready for school, make lunches, clean up, blah blah, all the while yelling at them to tidy rooms, clean teeth, get dressed, stop fighting, you know, the usual morning scene.  I would drop them off at school with minutes to spare and then dash off to my netball match.  Yes, netball.  Probably the worst sport in the world for women over 30 with dicky knees.  But hey, I loved it and it was fast and fun.  I wasn’t that good at it mind you, but I really enjoyed it.  I would then hobble home and shower while my poor knees protested and would manage to get a couple of hours work in before the real fun started.  At 2.45 I would start mentally preparing for what many mothers might call the ‘After School Activity Clash Debacle’.  The easy bit, preparing a nutritious after school snack to be eaten in the car (well, throwing a couple of apples, a box of crackers and two chocolate biscuits in a Coles Eco bag), came first.

The problem I had with Tuesday afternoons was that I had to be in two places at exactly the same time, every week.  Ted had swimming at the local pools at 4pm and Abi had dancing in the Scout Hall in the next suburb at exactly the same time ….

I would pick them up from school, picking up a friend of Ted’s at the same time, dash off to the swimming pool, leave the boys to get ready and get Abi dressed in her dance clothes in the pool changing rooms.  Then I would give Ted a quick goodbye and rush Abi off back to car and off to the dance class.  We would get there in the nick of time and I would then sit for 20 minutes watching her and smiling encouragingly every time she looked at me.  Then I would speed (sorry officer) back to the swimming pool to see Ted go up and down the pool, smiling encouragingly every time he put his head up.  At 4.40 I would speed back to the Dance hall to watch the end of the class, then chuck Abi back in the car to go and get Ted, who by this time was mucking about in the changing room and dropping his undies in the puddles.  By this time I would be wrecked and yearning for that glass of wine by the time I got home.  I am often surprised that Ted didn’t end up in the pool with Abi’s dancing gear on by mistake.

If it wasn’t for the mother of one of Abi’s Dancing pals, who often picked her up and brought her home, I would have gone completely bonkers (or more bonkers than I am already).

This year things are marginally better as Tuesday is a free night.  Ted has given up swimming, you see and Abi’s moved into ‘Juniors’, which is on a Monday night. But so is Tennis.  And Cricket.