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Attending Sports Day With Young Children

Last night, I asked my eldest son how he would feel if I wasn’t at his sports day today. His answer? “But mom, what if I finally win and you’re not there?”
Good point son. I’d never forgive myself.
I’ve never missed a sports day of any of my children, come rain or shine, scolding heat or down pours, tired, pregnant or totally fine, I’ve always been present. This year however, I knew shit was about to go down.
It’s not that I didn’t want to go to support my dude, of course I did. I just didn’t want to take the other two boys with me. I knew the grief those two arseholes would cause me. And guess what? They went all out to give me the worst day ever.
So here’s what it’s really like to attend sports day with two other children.
1. I quite literally got dressed in the dark at 5am this morning as I attempted to wake Edward early in a hope he’d fall asleep at 9am. I wore extra thick leggings and a slouchy top, that kinda looks like pjs, teamed with slightly heeled ankle boots. No make up, hair minimally brushed. Of course, I was unaware the weather would be SCORTCHING FUCKING HOT. 
2. The plan to get baby to sleep for 9am worked and somehow, we all managed to leave the house on time. However, turning up on the school field at 8:50am proved ill advised as the parent watching area was already jam packed with those mums who clearly camped out the night before to get the best spot. We park up somewhere that can only be discribed as the second row of hell. Behind 6 OAPS on camp chairs.
3. The heat is killing me. I can literally feel my skin melting down my face as drops of sweat build under my oversized sunglasses. I’m that shiny I’m sure Charlie could see his reflection in my forehead. Charlie himself is roasting, obviously I forgot his sunglasses, so he steals mine. Excellent. Now I’m a hot sweaty mess who can’t see shit. The children come out on to the field. Everyone scrambles to get a decent photo of their little munchkin. I almost lose Charlie in the scuffle. It’s 9:15am, I want to go home already. 
4. Awards from sports day pt 1 are read out. Jordan wins javelin. (Go on my boy!) I can’t get a pic of him for the OAPS refuse to budge. The sound of claps and cheers mixed with the voice of the PE teacher coming over the megaphone WAKES THE F*CKING BABY. I am livid. The races haven’t even started yet. Shot me now!
5. Remembering this is KS2 sports day I realise I’m in for a long wait to see Jordan in his ONE race. I silently pray Edward doesn’t start screaming. He then starts screaming. AT THE TOP OF HIS FRIGGIN LUNGS. I hope for the ground to swallow me whole. The races begin. Charlie’s done a runner to find some shade.
6. I’ve been holding a screaming, crying, kicking, whinging Edward for a whole hour. Whilst also calling Charlie back to me every 7 seconds. I am aware my back sweat is now starting to show through my top in full view of the poor sods behind me. I’m certain the temperature just rose 10 degrees. Edward refuses milk, juice and smartie bribes. I’m never going to survive this. Several people witness my struggle with sighs of “aw, poor baby”. POOR F*CKING BABY?! (Smh)
7. Charlie is just as pissed off with Edwards dramatics as I am, so plonks himself in the empty buggy and tries to take a nap (don’t blame ya’, kid) I try to calm Edward by doing the bounce-on-hips-jiggle, fail. Then by inching closer to the track, fail. Offering more smarties? Fail. He eventually repents when the nursery children come out on their break. Thank fuck for that. Jordan’s up next. 
8. The moment we’ve been waiting for and Charlie’s ran off playing with another bored as shit child. Has absolutely zero interest in watching his big bro now we’ve been here for so long. Edward (who conveniently has a stinking cold btw) just sneezed and blew snot in my hair. I give him a milky bar to hopefully shut his crying face for 2 seconds. And they’re off…
9. My boy is doing so well, miles in front for the first 300 metres. Then bam. Blue team catch up. Then green. Poor Jordan comes in 3rd, again. The disappointment on his face is the hardest part of my day so far. He is clearly gutted. My left shoulder is now soaked from a mixture of snot, tears and milky bar slobber.
10. But that’s it. I’ve been here an hour and half already, I think it’s time I left and got these feral kids home. Edward calms down and finally accepts his milk. Brilliant. You couldn’t have done that an hour ago, Ed?
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