My little Josh started school an hour ago. its not like he hasn’t been to ‘school’ before, after all he was in pre-school. Does that count? No? Ok.
He looked so cute, determined and excited as I dropped him off, wondering if his school will take me in as a substitute teacher for one day only.
The day started with me waking him up and asking if he remembers what he’ll be doing today.
He answered; ‘sleeping. I want to sleep some more‘ and he promptly nodded off to sleep again.
Finally we get him all dressed with me fussing over him the whole time. I ask if he is excited about school, he replies quizzically,
You see this child has inherited his some father’s cynicism and I keep forgetting that. It wasn’t like this with my sweet son #3, he cuddled me and shared the same emotions I had- which went from extreme calm to anxiety nervosa.
We try to take some pictures. He keeps jumping off right before the flash goes thereby rendering my resolve rewrite history, useless. I need to have every memory recorded because now I know I’ll forget like I’ve forgotten a lot that happened with his brothers.
On our way to school I tell him how proud I am of him. Again he asks why, this time with a real desire to know. I explain that he is such a good, clever and handsome boy. I tell him how proud I am to be his mama. At this he smiles his charming smile. I push back the tears I feel welling up.
When we arrive he runs ahead happily, promptly stops and asks me to pick him up, he is tired of running. I worry that this carrying thing won’t last for long. I stop worrying and choose to enjoy the moment instead.
We arrive and go to meet his teachers, they are warm, friendly and appear to like my Josh already. I notice that I’ve managed to smear his white shirt with my make-up. I don’t care, I hope my love and my smell got smeared on too and will remain with him until I pick him up at 3:20pm.
While we wait in the presence of other mummies, many of them visibly nervous, I ask him if he’ll make new friends.
‘Yes mum, and if anyone punches me I punch them right back’.
‘ Punch them right back’ is accompanied by a forceful swing with his fist, I think it’s called the uppercut in boxing.
I watch my potential rep as a perfect mum disappear quietly down the proverbial drain. You know how there’s always one mum who annoyingly stands out from the rest of us as perfect. She is NEVER late for the school run. When you’re late she just has to ask;
‘Did you over-sleep?’
You reply defensively but with just the right amount of dignity;
‘No I didn’t, but I had to scrape the ice from my windscreen’
She replies in a sing-song, high-pitched voice;
‘You should have allowed time for that!’ Her response is finished off with a small laugh and a cursory wave of her left hand. Not just a laugh, but the laugh that is er…’at you’.
She buys mainly organic veggies from the grocery store and plants her own herbs and tomatoes. Oh and she makes her own ice-cream in the summer. She has on brown cords, knee-high boots and a tweed blazer over her cream coloured, floral top.
Sorry I digress, another post.
I sprint back to the car, partly for exercise (still trying to get past 3 mins of exercise daily. The plan was to start small and build it up. The problem is not the starting. Another blog post, another time.) I remember the last time I sprinted to the car after dropping of a certain son on his first day. I was sprinting from a myriad of emotions, glee, liberation, thankfulness. I didnt want to waste a second of my new-found freedom. That child shall of course remain nameless.
My advice to mums who have found themselves an emotional wreck on first day at school? Remember that a new experience prepares them for all things life has to offer. They’ll enjoy the exhilaration of new friends, new routines and new toys. It works for me every time. Except today.
Off I go to vent those tears, they’re becoming rather annoying!