The last blog post I wrote 2 weeks ago was about changing schools for our daughter. We knew that if we were going to move schools for Alice we would have to it before we applied for a primary school for our youngest daughter Eva in January 2017. So when the chance came up 2 weeks ago to move her to a lovely little village school a couple of miles away, we didn’t hesitate.
We thought that would be the end of it and we’d all be hugely relieved that there would be no more blog posts mentioning any issues with schools again.
Just 8 days after moving Alice into her new school, just 8 days after stressing myself out about the transition to the point where I couldn’t eat or sleep, the unthinkable happened. We got the phone call from our local primary school down the road to say that a place had become available. This was our original first choice of school. The one I’d fought hard for a place for, the one I’d written countless letters and emails to MPs, councillors, school admission team members and even the Department of Education about. The school that all my local neighbours and friends go to. The one we were seemingly excluded from. The one I’d given up ever getting a place at before the all important January deadline.
Primary School Gods
Holy Crap! You literally couldn’t make this sh!t up. I could not believe my ears. Some primary school God was literally looking down on me from his playground of alcohol and debauchery and pi$$ing himself laughing. At us.
The timing absolutely stank. Just a week earlier I would have moved Alice to this local school like a shot. I would have been jumping for joy and over the moon. But now that we’d already gone through one transition, as a family we came to a fairly difficult decision to not move her again because a) she had settled in so quickly and brilliantly seemingly loving her new school and b) we couldn’t face the upheaval of going through it all again. It just didn’t seem right to unsettle our 5 year old for a second time and risk the fact that this move may not be so good second time round.
I THINK we have made the right decision.I certainly hope we don’t live to regret it like some people have suggested.
Since this phone call last Tuesday I seem to have had Alanis Morrisette’s Ironic’s lyrics going round in my head. You know the one that goes.
“It’s like raaiiin on your wedding day. It’s the free advice you just didn’t take.”
With me adding the line in “It’s the local primary school you’ve always wanted, get offered just days after you’ve already switched.”
Or something like that.
A few people have since said to me “That’s sod’s law.”
Which got me thinking. What exactly is this term and where does it come from?
Wikipedia defines it as being “If something can go wrong, it will.” And the British culture have added “that it will happen at the worst possible time.”
Well yes, that sounds about right to me. The timing on this couldn’t have been any worse.
I’ve also been pondering what other notable (if less stressful) circumstances of Sod’s Law I have experienced recently? Here’s what I’ve come up with:
1. Spending an afternoon making a lovely home cooked dinner for the kids only for most of it to go nowhere near their lips and a huge proportion end up on the floor.
2.Trying to get the kids to bed early because of having loads of work to do in the evening only to have one or both of them up and down the stairs refusing to sleep.
3. Meeting up in London with some friends who I hardly ever see only for them to get lost and be very late so that we had far less time to catch up.
4. Queuing for a taxi to get home on a night out to find out that our cab driver was going on a break.
5.Thinking your child is potty trained so removing the last pair of spare knickers from the handbag only for her to have an accident that same very day.
So there you have it. The classic case of Sod’s Law! Always lurking around threatening to bite you on the bum when you least expect it.
Have you got any tales to add? I’d love to hear them in the comments below.