Photograph hair before washing...

In a shock development Daniel decided to have his hair cut.  About 90% of it.  Given his reaction to scissors has always been a little like a rabid dog to water (see Hair, Hair Everywhere), I am still reeling.  I have to say it looked really good and it was great to see more of my son’s face than just his nose poking through the hair.

However the next day he commits the fatal error of washing it.

Dan:       I can’t get it to look right
Me:        Um
Dan:       Can you try?

All can do with hair is tie it back with an elasticated band and my fears increase as he hands me a tub. 

Dan:       She used some stuff on it
Me:        Oh

Stuff, or the equally non-descriptive Product fills me with dread.  This is a newcomer to our house and until I went grey, the only Extra I’ve used on my hair has been conditioner.  It took me years to come to terms with the idea of hair dye until my husband clinched it, telling me he wasn’t ready for a grey haired wife.  So I’ve put my head down (in the basin) and got on with being brown.

I have no idea how to apply Product, and even less how to tug the hair afterwards into the right shape.   I shun the tub as his hair already feels like cardboard and I’m assuming it’s been Stuffed enough.  Then I try pulling it through all points of the compass, in the chance that one of them might be what he’s after.

It’s not of course, and I feel awful as hope falls from his face.  I’d thought one of the joys of having boys is my ineptitude with hair, makeup and clothes wouldn’t matter.  It does though and I tick another box in the Crap Parent dossier. 

I swallow, admit I’ve failed and suggests he goes back to the hairdresser for instruction.  And I’ll book an appointment too, and see if it's not too late to learn something.

Duke of Edinburgh - drowning not waving

Organisation at pitiful low when Jamie informs me after his Friday night Duke of Edinburgh training session, that he has his first D of E expedition tomorrow.  This consists of trekking about twenty miles through the wilds of Surrey, whilst laden with a backpack stuffed with everything he’ll need for the weekend - as long as it's not electronic.

Me:          It’s not till next weekend
Jamie:      No, it’s tomorrow
Me:          I checked the website
Jamie:      Well, the person running it has just told us and she should know

Scurry to supermarket to collect supplies, including enough sugar highs to get him to the summit of Everest.  Apparently, emergency energy drinks and emergency energy foods are essential, though they sound more like a scam for legitimising crap. 

Suspicions confirmed when Daniel vets Jamie’s supplies and denounces them.

Daniel:      I never got this
Me:          You’ve just forgotten
Daniel:      No.  You told me I had to make do with fruit and water
Me:          Well, you had better weather

After weeks of summer skies and temperatures, April’s delayed showers have decided to arrive this weekend in an almighty downpour.  Manage to persuade Jamie that waterproof coat is not optional but spend rest of weekend listening to rain batter the windows and wondering if they managed to get the tent up.  Can’t work out how they will cook supper with the skies flooding, but maybe that’s the cue for emergency chocolate.

Following day, soggy teenager and dripping backpack collected.  Everything soaked, and I am congratulating myself upon making him take the waterproof coat until I realise it has gone AWOL and not made it home.  Also notice that no emergency food stuffs have returned, though can’t have been that much of an emergency, because the apples came back.

Not sure why I’m the one who gets to dry out tent, sleeping bag, walking boots and backpack, but maybe it’s to help me feel more involved?  Still, at least he’s still got them, talking of which…

Me:        Where’s your coat?

Revision - don't you just love it?

Don’t write about the weather they say, but this much sunshine can only mean one thing. 

Exams. 

Jamie’s Do-Well-Or-You-Won’t-Be-Allowed-To-Take-Triple Science exams start tomorrow and Daniel’s Do-Well-Or-You’ll-Be-On-Washing-Up-Duty-For-Life GCSEs start in ten days. 

As you can tell, I am totally relaxed and confident in their outcomes and a lifetime subscriber to the No Pressure philosophy.  No Pressure, Why Bother that is.  It’s not that I’m a pushy parent (despite appearances, honest!) it’s just you need to understand the importance of something to value it yourself.

When I was at school, we’d have visiting speakers shock us with figures for the swathes of rainforest destroyed as we listened.  Whilst they spoke it was devastating; but when they left, they took their message with them and no one mentioned it again.  It’s not that we didn’t care, it’s just when you’re a teenager, seeing the wood from the trees thousands of miles away requires encouragement.

So when Jamie eventually gave in and lowered his head into his Science book for a whole hour – albeit wearing headphones – I was really chuffed.  It’s a while since I’ve seen that much concentration away from the Play Station and I’d like to think it’s because he actually enjoyed it.

The sad thing about school, is that most of the things they teach are interesting.  It’s just that there’s so much and over such a long period that it takes a remarkable teacher to keep children enthralled.  So if it means I need to be interested in the sexual reproduction of a plant, to reinforce what my kids are learning, I should be grateful.

I might not need to know this anymore, but as the hours frittered on Google testify, learning can be fun.

Maths revision - just another way to feel inadequate

As part of GCSE revision, Daniel is completing maths practice papers.  Great I thought until I came to mark them and found that even the answer sheet is testing.  Would be fine if he got them all right, but when he doesn’t, we both try to decipher the step by step answers and still don’t have a clue.

So the answer book says if you find this hard going, take a look at Circle Geometry.  Ah ha, I thought and I did.  It told me that:

-          Tangent-Radius meets at 90°

-          Angles in the same sequent are equal

-          Chord Bisector is a Diameter

Whilst I remember the mnemonic from school comparing two classmates to Radius and Diameter (little Redman, big Davey), the rest is a mystery.

So I studied the answer book.  I studied the revision guide.  And I studied the question again.  Can I prove that the angle CAB = BCD?  Not a chance.

Daniel:        Well?
Me:              How about some English?

Still at least they have revision guides now.  And they’re beautiful things.  Lots of colours, graphics, summaries after every section and as easy to read as a comic.  A million years apart from our dry textbooks or paltry notes we took during lessons.  When they question annually why exam results are improving, I think they should look at the revision tools.

Best thing of all though, was The Now Show (thank you Radio 4).  It asked the audience for the signs of Spring and a teacher replied that All 16 year olds Are Doing At Least 4 Hours Revision Per Day.  At Least.  And Not Including Breaks.  Made us all laugh, but it revised my expectations.

So is Daniel doing 4 hours revision per day?  Probably not, but it feels like I am.

The last of the Easter Egg Hunts (probably)

At 14 and 16 the boys are too old for Easter Egg Hunts.  But when you’re scared at how quickly they’re growing up, you bring out every childhood ruse to pretend they’re still kids.

 

So I picked up a packet of 25 foil covered eggs – perfect for Easter Egg Hunts it said – and took great pleasure in getting up early to scatter them around the garden.  Not so bad, you’d think, but by now I had committed 5 mistakes:

1.   Very hot day and by 10am eggs were melting and needed to be rescued ASAP

2.   Daniel still asleep and didn’t appreciate being hauled from bed

3.   Garden more weeds than neatly manicured and everything invisible

4.   Red, green and pink foil wrappers, hard to spot in grass when you’re red/green colour blind

5,   Boys are too old for this and less than impressed I’ve hidden their chocolate

Ten minutes in, they were bored, so I had to point out probable hiding places.  Half an hour later they’ve given up entirely.  Quick count reveals Jamie far more successful than Daniel and 9 eggs still missing.

Daniel:    S’not fair
Me:          Well look then
Daniel:    Effort
Me:          Oh grow up

One hour later, I’m scouring the garden by myself and have found another 4 of the MIA’s.  Two hours later, husband has joined in the search and our tally is up to 7.  Three hours later I go through bin to check packet and that it really did say 25, not approximately.

Later that afternoon, idly poke around garden from time to time, but have accepted they belong to the hedgehogs.  Don’t mind the loss of the eggs, just irritated that I can’t find them.

Just hope I remember this for next year.  And have grown up enough myself to realise that it’s no fun being treated like a child when you’re a teenager.