STRIKES

‘What is happening to your London?’ my BFF started our WhatsApp call with the inevitable comment. News all over the world keep showing all the little miseries we have been facing lately here in the UK – from lack of fruits on the supermarket shelves to continuous strikes – doctors and nurses, transport workers, and teachers.

It became virtually impossible to leave the house without checking if you would be able to make it to your destination on the other end of the city. And God forbids currently getting to A&E! You will stay there forever…

And as this week’s teachers’ strike was approaching, I was dealing with the rising sensation of complete and utter anxiety. What was I going to do with my boys for two days? The days were already packed with zoom meetings and interviews, complicated searches, and chasing tails. And my hubby is away on business.

Like many parents, I feel bad leaving children to their own devices. And we all know that the only distraction from the PlayStation-saturated reality is a playdate. Good luck fitting this one into your weekday routine!

As Wednesday/Thursday approached, I found myself juggling a few professions simultaneously – a recruiter, a cook, a cleaner, a shopper, an entertainer and an uber driver. Running around the house, managing my children’s growing demands for fun, meeting and greeting in-coming friends of my big son, driving my little one to playdates with his friends, and non-stop shopping for food (as when my boys stay home, they eat everything there is). And between all this, I found myself trying to do some work.

By the end of Wednesday, my head was exploding.

By the end of Thursday, I couldn’t move.

And as I was lying there on my sofa, feeling like I ran a marathon, my big one came to me with a serious look on his face.

‘Mum, why is this world so unfair?’ he said with a sense of mission on his cheeky teenage face.

‘You think?’ I said sarcastically.

‘Mum, I believe teachers deserve a decent salary,’ he continued.

‘Me too.’

‘And this is why they should strike more. Much more! Say, for a week or so. Or maybe a month!’

As I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t help but think that there it was, the root of my son’s newfound support and care for his teachers.

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ I said, matching his cheekiness with my own, ‘otherwise parents will go on strike. What are you going to do then?’ ??