The Honey Bee

Urgh. It’s been one of those days. 
It started off in such a lovely way too, I honestly thought it’d be a good one. A random act of kindness, from somebody we don’t really know.  A class assembly of Isla’s where she did us proud, standing up in front of the school and parents to say her lines. She had a huge smile on her face as she delivered them, perfectly. Her confidence, as always, left us in awe. The sun was back and the little one got to spend more time in the garden where she is definitely at her happiest. Picnic lunch and lots of playing. Lovely. 

As I got to school to pick up the children this afternoon it suddenly dawned on me that I should have been there 15 minutes earlier to take Martha to her swimming lesson. I had completely forgotten, in a panic I sent my sister back to the house to scramble together Martha’s kit and I raced ahead to her classroom. I was greeted by a tear stained distressed Martha. ‘I tried not to cry Mummy, but I’d been sat there for so long that I couldn’t help it’. Oh my. There it was, the worst parent in the world, awarded to me. I wanted to cry with her. My poor baby girl. I couldn’t apologise enough, but little Martha just wiped her tear stained face and said ‘You don’t need to be sorry Mummy, it doesn’t matter.’ and as she enjoyed the final 15 minutes left of her swimming lesson I knew the crown of worst parent had already slipped off in Martha’s eyes. She forgave me.

After loading up with bubblegum knickerbocker glories from the ice cream van, we headed back home with happy faces. Admittedly ice cream and blue sauce smeared faces, but happy ones none the less. Once home I realised I’d forgotten all about Isla’s gymnastics class later that evening,  and that I’d forgotten to organise a lift there and back for her. Popping back on that crown, I rang my parents, and Grandma and Grandpa came to the rescue. Thank goodness.

When the big two return home from school the house becomes rather chaotic, loud and wild. And there’s always so much stuff, everywhere. I’d be lying if I said the time between getting home from the school run and the children sitting down for tea was my favourite time of the day. It certainly is not. So tonight, in a rather loud busy house, I am trying to organise three different teas for the children and a fourth for Jon and myself. And tidy up. Again. I gather together all of the discarded school bags and go through them, making a pile of washing from PE kits, forest school kit, swimming kit and class assembly clothes. Then I notice the honey bee. It’s moving slowly on the floor. I wait as it crawls onto an item of washing, I pick up the trousers, I walk to the front door, open it and shake the bee off. It flings straight into a spiders web. I’m horrified and as I stand there wondering if there’s any way I can get it off the web, the big spider is there claiming it’s prize.

I go back inside and actually want to cry. Over a honey bee.

I try and save a bee and what I actually do is kill it. I try to be a good person, I try and do my best, honestly I do. But sometimes, sometimes I just do the wrong thing, a few too many times a day. And I hate that.


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