Perfectly reasonable and ordinary

I realised something today, which is probably completely obvious to everyone else, and while I kind of knew it, I hadn't actually been confronted with it before in quite that way.

Confused yet?

This is me, this morning, having despatched various children to various schools complete with sunscreen and pencils and lunch boxes.

I was sat at home, drinking a cup of tea before I got on with watching the TV cleaning the bathroom, and my phone went.  I didn't recognise the number but it was local, so I was relatively sure I hadn't won the Nigerian lottery or inherited another Portuguese villa (honestly, the number of my relatives that die and leave me property and/or huge amounts of money in bank accounts abroad!).

Picked the phone up (as you do) and said 'hello?' (as you do), in that slightly confused way when you're thinking it can't possibly be for me, they must have rung me by accident.  Or maybe I've been injured in an accident that wasn't my fault...

Hi, is that Noah's mum?

I sucked air into my suddenly deflated lungs,
waiting for what was coming next, 

then realised I hadn't answered the 

question...Yes I said slowly and
deliberately as I exhaled

Noah James' mum?

Yes! I called as I tried to hold the

 phone to my ear and get up
 off the sofa (it's really very
squishy, and tries to eat you)

...

Yes! I shouted again as the guy on the 

other end has the cheek to not respond 

within half a second...

...

Oh my god yes I shrieked
 as he still didn't answer

Erm, this is Mr Lambchop... 

(names changed to protect the 

innocent)...from Groundhog School 

(love that film)...

Yeeeeees I called out having put the phone 

on the floor on speaker while I slip my 

shoes on...and it was only at this point that I wondered 

whether he was so hesitant because he thought 

he'd caught me mid-climax...

Erm, it's about Noah... 

And he trailed off - this must be worse 

than I thought if he isn't even

sure what to say...

Okay I shouted towards the pocket 

I'd shoved the phone into while I 

grabbed a change of clothes for Noah, 

and pyjamas and dressing gown

 just in case...

He, ahem, he's ... he's in 

the office with me at the 

moment...

Yes? I continued to direct my voice 

towards the back pocket of my jeans, 

giggling for just a second as I realised that 

he's almost talking out of my arse 

instead of the usual one (his own), 

snatched my grab bag and 

opened the front door

Well, you see, Noah asked

if I could give you a ring, so I...

erm I'm giving you a ring...

Yes I shouted as I almost tripped over the cat,
who was making for the kitchen as fast as her little
 legs would carry her, having apparently heard a
rumour that for once she won't get thrown
out of the window for eating the dog food,
 as I was clearly distracted by something
 that was not food related, and thus utterly
 irrelevant to her

Front door closed, and then I was on the end of the drive with two rucksacks wanting this guy to get off the fucking phone so I can ring a taxi to take me to the hospital

He erm, he forgot it was 

erm, cricket - cricket club today, 

so he wanted me to ask you if 

he can go.  What - what do 

you think?

Cricket club.  Cricket club.  Cricket club.
What?    
I took a deep breath in and concentrated
 on expelling it fully, as I tried to work out what
 I was going to say to Mr Lambchop.  Before I
 had time to finish putting together my
 outraged response for him scaring the
 living daylights out of me,
 I had an epiphany.

He hadn't scared me.
  He had made a perfectly reasonable ordinary
phone call.  It was my fear, my reaction, that
was ridiculously over the top

 - I had scared myself.

I finished off the perfectly reasonable ordinary
conversation as I walked back down the
drive, then as I opened the front door
 the damn cat
almost tripped me again as she made
 a bolt for freedom.

Most people probably don't keep a grab bag in their cupboard, complete with pyjamas, fresh clothes, toiletries, book, notebook, paracetamol, pens, a pack of biscuits, some cash and a phone charger.  Not unless they are fourteen years old and planning to run away from home.

But we do.

Smiler has a grab bag too, packed with his essentials - clothes, pads, books, meds, emergency meds, liquid feeds, wipes, gauze, a copy of his hospital passport, mp3 player / spare batteries / chunky puffy padded headphones.

This time - this call - it wasn't about Smiler.

But it was a phone call from a school - a perfectly reasonable ordinary mainstream typical school.

It turns out that if I hear school and it isn't immediately in the very same breath followed by he's fine, my parent-carer-controlling-the-crisis head takes over and I'm running on autopilot.

So my big epiphany today was that some (possibly even most) calls that parents answer from their kids schools are about forgotten lunchboxes, or PE kits, or filling in a form.  Most of these calls will not require anyone to stop drop and roll.  Most families don't work like that, simply because they don't need to.

But my family, the we and that us, we're put together a bit differently - we work a bit differently, because we have to to stay in one piece.  The routines and habits that developed out of necessity to ensure that life runs smoothly for Smiler have skewed my world view - my expectations of a given situation, my reactions to the circumstances around me.

And also, I can get sorted and out of the house pretty damn quickly when I need to.

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