It was GCSE results day yesterday. My lack of posting was due to extreme stress in the morning, and extreme jubilation in the afternoon. The evening was a write off, due to the fact that we had all gone through the emotional wringer all day and were like zombies by bed time.
Firstly, when I am world dictator I would like it to be made mandatory that all exam results be available from 7.00 a.m. onwards. You should never, ever have to wait until the school gets its arse into gear at 11.00 a.m. to find out your results. Never.
Tilly was reasonably calm. She went to bed at a decent time on Wednesday night and didn’t get up until 9.00 a.m. on Thursday. I on the other hand was a frigging wreck. I was up until 2.00 a.m. Thursday and awake again at 7.00 a.m. having spent most of the night sleeping in the same neck locked position and dreaming frantic, intense dreams that meant I woke up like the anatomical equivalent of GRRRRR.
Till sashayed out the house at 10.45, mainly because I shooed her out with a broom. She arrived home again two minutes later, having forgotten something she really needed to give to her friend. I shooed her out again, locked the door and shouted at her through the letter box to hurry up. Up to this point she had, it seemed, been entirely unaware of how unbearably stressed we all were.
I am delighted that she was unaware if the truth be told. It is wonderful to have a daughter who is so relaxed about things. It is something I realise is an utterly undeserved blessing, and she certainly doesn’t take after me in that respect. Knowledge of this bounty does not help much when you are grinding your back molars and pacing the floors mind you.
I had sent her with her phone (unlike most teenagers she is supremely disinterested in her phone and regularly fails to take it out with her. Even when she does take it out with her she almost never turns it on, or answers it even if it is on) so that she could call me and put me out of my misery. This did not happen.
She finally wandered in at 10.45 a.m., gave me her results letter, sat on a chair and burst into tears. I didn’t really know what to do first. In the end I plumped for half heartedly shouting at her for keeping me waiting, sort of patting her knee and trying to read the results letter all at the same time. It went about as well as you would expect.
She did excellently. She did better than excellently. She was an absolute bloody star. The only mark she was a little disappointed with was for art, and she still got a C, which is what she needed to get into her college courses.
I was/am insanely proud of her. She monstered it. Jason hurtled through the door about fifteen minutes after she got back, and he was also insanely proud of her. Then we rang everyone in the world to tell them how proud we were, and they told us how proud they were, and Tilly how much they loved her, and there was lots of crying, and in the end we just gave Tilly a loo roll to wander around with, because it was easier and we hadn’t got any Kleenex.
After that we went out for dinner, and ate everything.
So you can see how busy we’ve been. What with all the proudness and the crying and the grinding of molars and the shouting because we’re tense and the shouting because we’re happy, and all the eating of things. It’s been exhausting. Today we’ve mostly been drifting around in a stupor eating cheese sandwiches. It’s all we’re fit for.
What I will finish with, is what I said on my Facebook status last night, because it’s very true, and it bears repeating. Listen up:
Well done to everyone who got their results today whatever they may have been.
Exams teach you how to pass exams. If you passed them, great news. If you didn’t, there are other ways to skin a cat (please don’t put the video on Facebook), and nobody thinks any the less of you. It is a true fact that Hans Solo passed absolutely no GCSE’s and he’s about as awesome as you can get. You’re all bloody excellent. Well done. Have a biscuit on me.