This week CONNIE is getting into graduation mode …
Connie is finding this “I’m doing the Leaving Cert” mother role utterly exhausting as well as exceedingly tedious. Frankly she hasn’t been quite so stressed since her days as an ‘oppie’ mummy driving her gruesome twosome to every godforsaken juniors sailing event in the country, though perhaps the Tennis Ireland years were marginally more challenging. Particularly after Fionn’s stress fracture dropped him out of the top five under tens. She is in total overdrive, with grinds, study time, downtime and uptime and absolutely no me-time.
Dear Dora is chained to the chopping board and the Nutribullet; who would have thought that horse doses of creatine could be rendered tasteless in a super-green high protein smoothie? She is optimising Fionn’s nutrition for concentration and learning reasons, however, he has now thrown the Magaluf spanner in the works and is additionally insisting on wolfing kilos of meat at all hours of the day and is even setting his clock for four am protein shakes. Indeed, Connie fears he is switching far too much of his attention to being ‘ripped’ for Maga rather than fine tuning his exam answers. Connie in her naivety thought that it was only the girls who had to do the slavish prep and preen for this particular dissolute trip as angsty memories of organising darling Mollie’s wardrobe/nails/tan/highlights come flooding back and serve to set alarm bells for Connie to book all her own tiresome beauty and hair appointments for Fionn’s looming graduation.
Actually, she’s getting very excited about this momentous day and suspects that she might momentarily neglect her LC mothering duties to channel her inner Gradzilla inclinations. Truth tell she can hardly wait for the event as there is nothing she adores more than scrutinising her contemporaries and congratulating herself on how wonderful she looks in comparison. This occasion is so special, obviously not just for the boys and their graduation thingy but to get a serious look at how all the other parents have aged since junior infants. Connie is truly perplexed at how so many of her contemporaries just let themselves go, piling on the pounds and making scant effort to conceal the grey hairs or furrowed foreheads. Of course, there are also the gals who seriously invest in themselves and she is always curious to see whose rejuvenation procedures are better than others, and who goes too far, when the trout pouts and filled cheeks make them look like they’ve gone ten rounds with Katie Taylor: nearly a worse look than being frumpy, well almost.
Her graduation outfit is fab, sourced on a recent trip to Harvey Nichols, Knightsbridge, where alongside experiencing bubble tea, she so enjoyed the wide choice in all the collections and finally settled on fabby Missoni wide leg pants with a deliciously fitted top. She is predicting that most of the other fashionable girls will appear in gauzy midi print dresses and who cares about the unfashionable ones, let them eat even more cake in their comfortable shoes. She has eschewed Fionn’s entreaties to sit with parents of his friends, as they are far too middle class and has shamelessly inveigled her way onto a table of the famously rich. She is beside herself with excitement and will do well to keep Fionn on track for the next two weeks. He might be doing the Leaving Cert but she is doing the Graduation.
Read previous instalments of A View From The Jeep …
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