Yes. Tomorrow. Uniforms, socks, shoes, the works. They may be in the Infant School, but it’s basically a new thing. A different concept. Bells, more rules, more older kids in one place than they’ve ever seen in their lifetime (granted, it’s been a short lifetime).
Given my past experiences with schools and educational institutions, putting my kids into a school has been a breeze. I thought I’d be blacklisted as the ‘mother-who-had-no-school-spirit-and-wrote-that-blog-dissing-her-school’ and no school would give my kids a chance!
There are so many different thoughts whizzing through my head right now. Things I may have forgotten to do or have done; worries about this new schedule; worries about them settling in; what happens to teachers’ kids; is this the ‘best’ fit for them…endless. Like bees. Buzzing in my brain. A hive of buzzes.
I spent the last ten minutes watching a series of videos. Each video shows less babyness. Less chubby cheeks. Fewer lisps and mispronunciations. They aren’t my little babies. They’re not babies. They’re little pains in my butt, whom I love and adore. I wish I could bottle up those memories and relive them, and appreciate them more in the moment. Not just watch the videos on repeat. I wish I could tell the me-of-a-few-years-ago to take more pictures and make more videos. Great. Now I’m tearing. Sigh.
This is a terrible and blubbery post. If any of my students’ read this, they’d massacre me for having no structure and no cohesion.
I know this is a recurring trope of mine, but parenting is so hard. There’s nothing ‘right’. I’m an advocate of going with your gut and ignoring the aunties out there, but by gosh you’re blady fumbling in the dark a lot no? I enthusiastically purchased all my kids’ school books and began, with gusto, to cover them and paste stickers and name tags on them. Somewhere down the line I realised that despite loving to cover books and engage in the whole shebang, this was kinda sucky. That killed my buzz. The books lost interest and the polythene covers were honestly not my best work. What I’m trying to say, in the most convoluted manner, is that the little things are what we focus on instead of the big picture – and I don’t know if that’s good.
In conversation with a mummy-friend recently, we deduced that parenting today is harder than before. There are more social evils at home. I think it trickles down from massive urbanisation and the technological boom, but raising kids (fewer in number than the average parent in the 1920s) is tough now. Another friend confessed that she had had enough of her career and wanted to stay at home now, I told her about my depressive angsty time at home. How I felt useless and angry at everyone but myself because here I was making the ultimate sacrifice and staying at home with my kids, and no one appreciated me! Of course, this is just me and I go through many phases in my life and I needed to be useful. Work was the best thing that happened to me because it gave me purpose and I think it’s made me a better mother. I advocated to her the importance of utilising her education and her knowledge and to work because she could. Anyway, I digress.
My kids start school tomorrow. Here we go.