Your first phasing in at playschool went so well we were both a little disappointed to leave after our hour’s settling in. As I expected, a minute after your were through the gate, you left me to go and play with one of the helpers on the jungle gym. And you found the Best Thing Ever on the jungle gym – a steering wheel. I almost think that if it was a choice between me, milk or a steering wheel, you’d pick the steering wheel.
Mavis came too, and in the car I could feel our heavy hearts, and I could feel my tears brewing. Mavis said how much she and Vee would miss you during the day, which made me sad. And so happy, because they are like your second and third moms and adore you so much. I’m glad that in them, we’ve found a family, in a sense (but that’s a whole other blog).
The kids (your soon-to-be NBFs) seem cute, and the caregivers look awesome. There’s a lot of singing going on which makes you happy, and soon you’re probably going to wonder why there’s no constant singing and clapping hands at home before mealtimes, playtime and tidy-up times (the answer is that I have a terrible voice, and cringe and want to die each time I sing).
The funniest moment was during snacktime (peanut butter sandwiches and apple slices), while all the kids sat to eat, you grabbed your sandwich and ran off to the swing, with a giggle that probably meant “I can have my sandwich and play too. *evil laugh* ).
Our phasing in will become more extended with each day, and eventually I’ll be dropping you off in the mornings with Mavis fetching you at 12pm. For now, it’s baby steps and I wonder if it’s not more for the moms than for the kids to have it done in increments?
I know it was *just* an hour, but you make me proud, and I’m happy to have turned this next page in our story.
Here’s what Kim your teacher BBMed me : “Hi Tanya. That precious little boy did so well today! His sense of presence was so felt and his willingness to explore and be lead were so heartwarming. He is so self assured and confident, which is testament to his family and the warm and nurturing environment he comes from. Well done! Was such a pleasure to watch him interact and play and that beautiful laugh and smile of his reaffirmed why I went into teaching to begin with! So honoured that you chose us to be at the very start of his educational journey. See you tomorrow. Have a good day!”
Another tearjerking moment. Thank G-d for my waterproof mascara.
I love you, my little big boy…
No more sleeps, my sweet thing, it’s time for the next chapter in our lives. Today we’re starting playschool, and I know strictly speaking it’s you who is starting, but I feel like I’m starting something too. For me, it’s a bit of letting go, a bit of trusting, a bit of change, but for both of us, it’s about learning and new experiences.
I have our outfits ready, camera charged, and your bag packed. It gave me excitement and sadness while I packed basic items of nappies, wipes and a change of clothing. It made me heartsore to be packing items for you for hours when I won’t be there, and anxious about who will be changing your nappies and clothes, and whether they’ll need to jump up and down or throw toys around like I do to distract you from the terrible terrible time you have when we change you.
But I’m so excited too – there are new people, toys, songs and stories ahead, and I feel like we’ve found the perfect playschool for you for now. It makes me happy that you’ve reached this next stage, and I’m proud of you already. I know you’ll do great, and I bloody well hope I do great too. I suspect there’ll be big-girl tears, but I suspect they’ll be ones of pride, but just in case, I’m wearing my biggest sunnies and waterproof Maybelline mascara.
I hope there is lots of growth, music and fun…
Today I went to a place with lots of toys, puzzles, scooters, jungle gyms and books. It has rooms, lockers and bright paintings, and holds so much opportunity for you, yet at the same time a little bit of heartbreak for me.
I was at your to-be-playschool, which I hope you’ll love, because I’m making one of “those decisions” that come with so many inner debates. I think you’re ready for more development and interaction (and Marie biscuits and peanut butter sandwiches), and I think you’ll be pretty cool and happy there. Thing is, you’re cool and happy at home too, and even though I work, home is still a known to me, where I can control things more than I can Out There. I fear the kids who might push you, or the toy you want to play with might not be available, and that makes me sad, but I realise it’s pointless trying to expect and want that I could protect you from all of life’s woes.
I feel you are ready to go – you’re more active and curious, but this change means, well, change, and sometimes that’s hard to get my head around. It also means you’re onto that next phase in life, which is both thrilling and terrifying. I know your “family” at home will miss you for those few hours each day, and you got a whole lot of love here, believe me, even in the form of sloppy Rottweiler kisses.
But as much as I’m scared, I’m a little excited too. I can’t wait to pack your bag, to fill up your locker, and to relish and save every single artwork you produce. There’ll be parties, there’ll be pals, there’ll be picnics, and there’ll probably be a bit of pushing and pinching now and again, but it will be fine. I think. I know.
I hope, as always, that I have the right footing as I stumble along the parenting thing. But instead of lamenting and overthinking, I’m going to do what every good mom does – find the coolest school bag to hang in your locker.