A Heatwave and a Small Vampire

Where to start? It’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote and somehow we’ve already made it to another half-term. But this time there’s a heatwave. So no all-inclusive holiday for us. Well, it’s still all inclusive for the children, but that mostly involves me becoming Head Snack Maker and getting increasingly inventive despite the fact our fridge is always suspiciously empty.

I do enjoy the sun, especially if I’m near a pool, but sadly this love is not shared with River. I’m assuming it’s sensory-related or maybe he’s simply committing fully to his love of Halloween by behaving like an actual vampire, but if sunlight touches him he screams and runs dramatically into the shade.

I’m currently sitting here while Summer happily splashes around in her paddling pool. We’ve got a mini sand area, a ball pit and all sorts set up outside, but River refuses to leave the living room. On Sunday we managed to get him out later in the evening for a splash, so maybe the trick is simply waiting for the giant burning fireball in the sky to calm down a bit.

There are these little creatures he currently loves called Sprunkis. I bought him a small set as a bribery toy while I was away (I’ll get to that) and they are currently sitting in the ice cube drawer. My latest parenting strategy to tempt him away from the TV is to challenge him to “free the Sprunki” by breaking the ice in whatever way he can.

But until the heatwave leaves, I am essentially trapped indoors, slowly losing my mind one Sponge Bob episode at a time.

It does remind me slightly of our recent holiday. Me sitting just outside the balcony door on a sunlounger while River remained firmly inside the hotel room. At least there I had Kike available to fetch drinks from the all-inclusive bar. Here, I guess I can manage the journey to the fridge.

Hold your tears for me. I will survive.

The Eurovision Miracle

Now for the bigger news. I went away.

Not just me either, I took the husband as well.

A whole weekend away. Honestly, I never thought we’d be able to do it, but something pretty amazing happened. I won a competition: flights on a special Eurovision fan plane to Vienna for the final.

I know. Everyone reading this is incredibly jealous.

I love Eurovision. I mean really love Eurovision. I’ve watched it for over 30 years. I have framed artwork on the walls, I host parties, go to events and I’m a member of the official fan club. So when I received an email saying I had won the opportunity to be part of a special fan flight, I obviously assumed it was a scam.

After several messages to a lovely woman at EasyJet, it turned out it was completely real.

I’d already accepted that Vienna wasn’t happening this year, which is why I’d spent too much money at the London Eurovision pre-party instead. I assumed I would have to turn it down. There’s no way I could leave.

Or could I?

I told a few people.

“You have to go.”

“You can make it work.”

So, I accepted. Then the military-level planning operation began.

It Takes a Village

Two nights. Three days. I was going to need help.

As always, I spoke to Kate first. She agreed immediately, although understandably she could only cover certain parts of the weekend. Sadie stepped in and offered to collect the children from school. River absolutely adores her, so that felt manageable.

That just left Sunday.

While editing the book recently, I’d been rereading sections about the time I desperately needed support and friends quietly stepped in to help me survive. As I reread it, something hit me. I always say I don’t have practical support from family, but the truth is… I haven’t really asked.

So I messaged my brother explaining about the competition and asking if he could help with the children so I could go away.

His reply came back almost immediately.

“Sure. Just let me know when you need me.”

I need to learn to ask more.

Ready to Sparkle

As every Eurovision fan knows, Eurovision week officially begins long before the final itself. By Sunday the acts are arriving in the host city, walking the turquoise carpet and chaos is fully underway.

We put up flags, printed scorecards and settled in for the semi-finals. Summer has officially become a mini version of me. She knows all the artists and is already a surprisingly harsh critic of live vocals. I couldn’t be prouder.

River happily bounced along to the songs he liked and enjoyed the novelty of staying up later than usual.

The day before we left, I made a social story with photos of everyone who would be looking after the children. I knew River wouldn’t fully understand, but I wanted him to have something familiar to look through. I also created a detailed document listing safe foods, routines, special interests, new phrases (“I need to go” has now replaced “I need potty”), emergency numbers and basically every piece of information required to keep our household functioning.

I even filled the fridge with safe foods and booked the children into breakfast club for the first time ever.

After a late Thursday night watching Semi Final 2, we were up at 6am Friday morning stripping beds, showering, panic-packing and getting ourselves ready to sparkle.

I borrowed a sequinned top from a friend at work and Kike bought a very dramatic purple shirt. River was extremely impressed, although also visibly confused. I attempted the social story one final time, but he was far more interested in my disco-ball earrings.

We walked the children to school pulling our suitcase behind us and it was only when we passed Summer’s entrance that River stopped.

“Summer go. Bye bye Summer.”

“Not today sweetheart,” I explained. “You’re both having breakfast at school.”

He stared at me silently.

Then we walked past his nursery entrance. He stopped again, looking confused at the locked gate. As we approached breakfast club, the tears began.

“It’s backwards. It’s backwards.”

Because breakfast club is held in the same room as after-school club.

It was exactly what I’d feared. He didn’t understand.

I hate leaving him distressed. Luckily the staff member knows him well and he likes her, so he eventually went into her arms sobbing while we walked away feeling awful.

Five minutes later, a friend messaged me to say she’d just seen him happily running around and playing.

I could breathe again.

The Airport Incident

I could tell you all about the journey, but honestly it was straightforward. The only important information I can offer is this:

Never wear sequins to an airport.

The scanners absolutely hate them and you need to emotionally prepare yourself to become very intimate with airport security staff.

When we reached departures, Kike asked how long we had before the flight.

“An hour and a half,” I replied.

We both just stared at each other.

So much time. We never have this amount of time.

Obviously we went straight to Wetherspoons for breakfast and sat happily watching the strange collection of people at Gatwick Airport at 10am, mainly stag dos, hen dos and people already making deeply questionable decisions.

It was then I started feeling strange.

I felt lightheaded and my body began to shake. I tried sipping my Coke but my breathing quickened and suddenly Kike was asking if I needed a doctor.

I followed my breathing exercises and kept telling myself that nothing bad was happening. Slowly my breathing calmed, but my body continued shaking underneath it all.

We went for a walk which helped, then later sat with a glass of prosecco beside several other sequinned Eurovision fans.

And slowly I realised what was happening.

My body was letting go.

Letting go of the tension, the pressure, the constant noise.

Usually at that exact point on a Friday I would either be standing in front of a class asking children to please stop talking for the seventeenth time, or I’d be with River. And whilst I’m incredibly grateful that he communicates so well with me now, communication can still be relentless.

From the 6am scream, to the constant “mum, mummy, mum”, to the random shouted “NO!” scattered throughout the day, my nervous system feels permanently braced for what might happen next.

What will upset him?

What will trigger him?

Do I have everything I need to calm him, soothe him and help us both through it?

Sitting at the airport with one small bag, in relative silence, felt completely alien.

By the time we boarded, the excitement and realisation that I could rest had finally taken over. The shaking settled and we were ready to put on our orange glasses and enjoy the show.

Freedom in a Pocket

I won’t bore you with every detail of the trip. There was a drag queen, a saxophonist, a trumpeter, bingo and many Eurovision songs.

The next day, walking to the final, I felt strangely light.

Mostly because we weren’t allowed bags into the venue.

I shoved my passport, phone and medication into my pocket and we walked there with completely empty hands. Kike turned to me and said he felt like he could run. I hadn’t realised how heavy everything had become until, for a few hours, I wasn’t carrying it.

To be fair, he is also normally carrying a ridiculously heavy bag across London.

I mean technically I could also run. I absolutely would not want to, unless being chased and still then I’d have to weigh it up.

The show itself was incredible. I watched it three times in total and eventually we arrived home to two perfectly happy, slightly spoiled and very well-looked-after children.

I got into bed just before midnight and had fallen asleep moments before River woke up at 1:30am.

He blinked at me sleepily and quietly said:

“I was looking for you.”

I sat beside him while he drifted back to sleep, happy in the knowledge that his mummy had returned.

Everyone Survived

The overall verdict from the babysitters was positive. River had been disoriented and sad at bedtime which left Kate understandably exhausted, but overall everyone survived.

Not saying they’re all immediately volunteering for a weekly arrangement, but maybe Bulgaria next year isn’t entirely impossible… (They won.)

Anyway, that was a lot from me.

I now need to go and check Summer is still consuming liquids and attempt to coax my small vampire child into doing something other than watching television.

But honestly, if all he manages today is staying cool, watching TV and feeling safe, then that will be fine too.