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Is it wine o'clock yet? The trials and tribulations of getting through the day as a working mum.

Name: Lara Kilner Lives: A northerner in Brighton

About me: Mum to a shouty four year old and a fast-moving one year old. Along with going to work and getting annoyed with my husband for leaving his pants on the floor, there isn't much time for anything else.


Attend meetings about phonics.

These will include exercises with the parent next to you, where you will feel a bit dumb because actually you don't understand anything, even though it's what is about to be taught to your four year old.

Get involved in the PTA. There are people who are born to be school governors, chair-people, and secretaries, and those who just about manage to make some burnt buns for Cake Friday. Go on, guess which I am.

Do a parents' race at sports day. I literally cannot wait.

There is a lot of admin involved in having a child at school. I'm a bit of an admin geek. I get a lot of satisfaction over a neatly filled-in form, an organisational email, or online banking (the latter usually marred by a tense tummy during log-in followed by a sharpness of breath/ small sob depending on closeness to overdraft limit). But even for me, it's slightly overwhelming.

Every day, you look in their book bag and it's a rare day that you'll find a mere book in there, goodness me, no. There will be letters from the PTA asking for tombola prizes for the school fete (see, you knew there'd be a purpose for that bottle of Mirage you've had since 1997 eventually), requests for obscene amounts of cash for an official photo of your child with that forced, fake smile where they stick their chin out all weird that every child has in every photo from aged four onwards, and requests for everything from bringing in a photo of your family to show the class, to leaflets telling you how to read books properly with your child because you've been doing it wrong up until now.

Then there are the days when you don't look in the book bag. Those will be days when you get told tomorrow it is compulsory that your child goes to school dressed as a giraffe. Your child is then the only child who is not a giraffe and you are a guilt-ridden parental failure who must hang their head in shame for the rest of the term.

Finally there are the accident forms. My son had a brilliant one last week. Not the most appropriate way to describe something in which your angel has suffered pain, but it was officially noted Raffi was 'pushed off a mushroom and hurt his tummy button'. Imagine. No first aid was administered after Mushroom-gate so the severity of the situation was minor, and the mushroom-pusher (I shall protect his anonymity for fear of retribution) was admonished accordingly.

Anyway, the way things are going, and with the nursery and after-school club admin piling up too, I'm thinking I'd better get the overdraft in better nick so I can get myself a School Admin PA, like super-rich folks probably do. A worthy job by anyone's standards.

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Title Annotation:Features
Publication:Sunday Mirror (London, England)
Date:Nov 8, 2015
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