Survival of the Foolish

All around suburbia there is an audible sigh of relief amongst mothers as their children are scurried off to school for the new term, and serenity in the household is once again restored.

Being relatively new as a stay-at-home mom, I naively believed that I would sail through the holidays with well-behaved, content children – how foolish I was. Surviving the school holidays is not for the faint-hearted. One needs to be armed with planned activities, outings, and play dates ensuring that the words “I’m bored” will never be uttered. And more importantly that one makes it through the other side with their sanity intact.

What I have since learnt is that holiday activities are carefully planned with military precision and scheduled weeks (if not months) in advance, as every mother will be elbowing their way to the all-important holiday events, juggling a myriad of play dates, and stocking the craft cupboard ensuring little hands are kept busy cutting, folding, threading, pasting and building rather than pushing, shoving or breaking.

For someone who was once highly praised for her organisation skills, I have been living my life a lot more spontaneously and frequently find myself deciding things on a spur-of-the-moment. For the most part this seems to be working (in a very bohemian sort way) but living in a country that is renowned for its wet weather does not help if you are not suitably geared up. This is especially evident over the holidays. The thought of going to the park is quickly dissolved when you awake to grey skies and downpours that put your shower to shame. You’re left with very sad little faces at the thought of another in-door game of pick-up-sticks.

My actions (or lack thereof) reminded me of a favourite childhood fable, who’s moral I only recently fully understood. The story takes place on a summer day. A grasshopper was singing and chirping and hopping about. He was having a wonderful time. He saw an ant that was busy gathering and storing grain for the winter. “Stop and talk to me,” said the grasshopper. “We can sing some songs and dance a while.” “Oh no,” said the ant. “Winter is coming. I am storing up food for the winter. I think you should do the same.” “Oh, I can’t be bothered,” said the grasshopper. “Winter is a long time off. There is plenty of food.” So the grasshopper continued to dance and sing and chip and the ant continued to work. But when winter came the grasshopper had no food and was starving. He went to the ants’ house and asked, “Can I have some wheat or maybe a few kernels of corn. Without it I will starve,” whined the grasshopper. “You danced last summer,” said the ants in disgust. “You can continue to dance.” And they gave him no food.

Thankfully my friends were kinder than the ant and recognised a mother in need, and accepted my impromptu play dates. But I’ll be gathering my grain in time for the next holiday.