The plan; two girls to school, a blissfully empty house ready for some serious relaxation, a visitor, an extra carer, and then Guides.
But then...the school bus was late. Not very late, certainly not the 2.5 hour delay my friend had, but just that bit late enough to make the school walk a run against the pedestrian traffic for Little Fish and I. We chickened out of driving her powerchair to school; she borrowed her sister's all-terrain buggy and snuggled into a sleeping bag for the ride. Very cosy. No pictures; we were running late.
Still, into school, slither home slowly, and prepare to relax and enjoy the silence. But then the cleaner came, so two hours of
Some phone calls, some emails, some general adminny housekeeping type stuff and then all too soon time to collect Little Fish. Slither to school to collect her 15 minutes before the end of the school day; the only way I can guarantee being home in time to beat Mog's bus. And slither home again to see Courtney Courtney waiting in her car. Hurrah!
But then...I turn the corner into our drive and discover Mog waiting on the doorstep with a rather cold escort, and a bus full of cold children waiting at the bottom of the drive. Apparently school was out early. For future reference, it would be helpful to know this kind of information in advance; I'm sure both Mog and the other pupils would have been warmer waiting in school until their usual home time instead of sitting outside our house. And it does somewhat undermine the whole point of Mog being last onto the bus and first off; the idea is to minimise the time she is in the hands of staff who aren't trained in her emergency needs.
Anyway, she's fine, the bus leaves, and we go inside and warm up. Little Fish pleads for a ham sandwich, the cats beg to be fed, Courtney and I have a cup of coffee and both girls are delighted to see her. Or are until I get the camera out. Mog very happy to see C, lots of shouting and kicking, but sadly lots of twitching and jerking as well; definitely fittier than I've seen her over the past few weeks. Hmmm.
A now annual tradition; we order pizza and enjoy it. Continuing the tradition, Little Fish and C then both sit in the bathroom with trousers on their heads, but I'm banned from sharing those pictures. Our extra carer arrives to get Mog ready for bed, and now I'm really relaxed. A friend visiting, one who can keep both girls entertained during the witching hours between school and bed, and then extra help at bedtime on top, this is real luxury.
Our carer says goodnight and heads off. C gets wrapped up and ready to leave, but then.... then our carer returns; her car having somehow wedged itself on the ice and being now totally immobile in its spot next to mine. Have I a spade?
A quick search of the garage in the dark (note to self: locate torch) reveals no space but a fork. We try forking the ice from her wheels, but then she gets worried about the prospect of punctures. So I beg a spade from our neighbours, and we shovel a pathway for the tyres. I'm so thankful for our carers; they save me so much energy by doing the physical stuff to give me a break...
The car moves one foot, two foot, then slides back down again. I push but then I lose my grip. A man passes by, stopping to ask if we are ok. Carer informs him she is stuck, he says "bad luck", and moves on. I come back into the house so C can get off home. Carer phones the RAC. The RAC promise to come out within half an hour. Being used to our own rescue company, who promise half an hour and turn up four hours later, I take this with a pinch of salt; carer and I joke about making up beds in the sitting room and I try to remember where I've put the lilo pump, just incase. And then the van turns up just twenty minutes after being called. Hurrah!
Furtive photos of the very nice man trying to rock carer's car out of the carpark; I only promised not to put it on YouTube or Facebook, so by posting it here I'm keeping to the letter of the agreement... No faces, anyway!
And now I should probably head outside again and check for success.