School is BACK!
If we’re all honest with ourselves, and I know a few people who have no qualms about voicing it out loud, but know far too many more that feel terribly guilty about even thinking it, much less agreeing with the honest and vocal, or *GASP*, actually voicing it themselves.
The point is, the kids are getting bored, we’re getting a little frustrated with having them around all the time, and unless we have the “luxury” (I use the term loosely) of having some time off and a real proper holiday with the family, they are, quite frankly, disrupting our routines and distracting us.
Also, I think I’ve written “fart oo” seven times before being able to properly correct it to “far too”.
Anyhoo, it has been an emotional one for us. By ‘us’, obviously, I mean ‘me’, because it’s inevitable that I will excessively worry about my children and whether I’m doing the right thing or not.
Last year, late last year, like the last day of school late last year, we made the decision to change Chippie to a different school.
Our lives and lifestyle has changed considerably over the last 12 months, as lives and lifestyles are wont to do, despite our reluctance to embrace change and wish things would just remain the same. Kids grow up, work comes and goes, we get older and Life just carries on as normal, although we like to cling to sameness.
Anyhoo, as a result, closer school, better resources, easier for us to manage, etc etc, blah blah and we made this decision.
Thus, we – I, but we – had all the fun of acccepting this choice, and doing all that was required to meet the requirements; new uniform, visits to the school, practicing walking there and home again, remembering to actually drops off the enrollment form, and purchasing books and other acoutrements.
Meantime, Monkey Boy had grown out of his uniforms (damn him!) and they needed replacing, and we were priming ourselves and Godzilla up for his stint at highschool; yet another one of those damned changes that you know are coming along, because such is life …
As they were holidaying on, I was going about my usual daily business of all my projects and contracts, and getting them all readied for school; with the practicals as well as dealing with all of the emotions.
Yesterday, it all came about. Chippie had his first day at the new school. He was his usual over-active self when we left, and quietly subdued as we waved him in to class. So much am I used to contacting my loved ones during the day, thanks to mobicular technology, that I spend much of my day in my corporate workplace, wanting to send him a text message to see how he was going.
He is seven.
He doesn’t have the means by which to be messaged during the day.
I rang Grumpy some 10-15 minutes after school pickup time to see how it all went.
I got a rambled “Yeah, good, I had a flat tyre on the way, it was pissing down rain, I’m filthy and want to go home for a shower, I’ll call you later *click*.”
Well, not “click” but whatever noise a mobile phone makes when you hang it up.
At that point, I assumed all was well, carried on with work, whilst trying not to think too much about both Chippie and his first day, and Godzilla with his the following morning.
By the time I got home, Chippie was at swimming lessons, and by the time he got home, I was on a webinar. I did get to spend ten minutes with him, bouncing around the house and not settling.
He did tell me he made a friend called “I don’t know”, who played with him all day. So that was nice.
And today … today was Godzilla’s first day. He was determined not to be happy about it, and sulked through the obligatory First Day of School photos.
It had been arranged that Monkey Boy would walk him to school, as that is what Godzilla had wanted, but it was bucketing down outside, and the usual getting people’s arses into gear ensured.
Also, yes, a small amount of Mother Guilt, which tipped me over and I agreed to drive him to school. Monkey Boy had lay down, and the chances of getting him vertical again were minimal, and I simply did not have the energy to do so.
Thus, I managed to plant a kiss on Godzilla’s cheek as he escaped from the confines of the car, and I watched him dawdle his way into school.
Again, I spent much of the day wanting to contact him to see how he was going. He does not yet have this means of contact, either.
I called Monkey Boy to check he was still going to pick Godzilla up, and confirmed he was on time. I stressed that he contact me when this duty had occurred and he assurred me he would. This is not a given, as I usually finish calls with “call me or text me when it’s done” and an reassured this will occur and it never does.
This time, however, I did get a call.
It went along the lines of him not being able to find Godzilla.
He had gone into the building, and walked around the school, and some of the way which he had showed Godzilla only last week.
Calls were made between Grumpy, Monkey Boy and I, whilst my colleagues enquired as to whether everything was okay when I hung up from each call.
Grumpy Pants had done the Chippie pickup and agreed to see if he could find Godzilla on the way home, Monkey Boy had organised to meet a friend and was comfortable going off to do that, even whilst no one knew the whereabouts of his younger brother.
One of my colleagues was telling me to go home, another could not understand how I was so calm. On the outside, yes, on the inside, I was struggling not to cry.
The thing is, I knew Grumpy was onto it, and it is very, very, very normal behaviour for Godzilla to just decide he is going to walk home and not tell anyone. He is a bit of a free spirit, and more than capable of doing so.
I was forced to wait some 23 minutes, before I missed a call from Grumpy. He left a message (usually he just hangs up and waits for me to call back), which was, rather, Godzilla, letting me know he was at home.
I called straight back.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot he was meeting me, and I just wanted to walk home by myself.”
Normal. Very normal.
But really bloody scary!
My heart rate returned to normal, I finished off my jobs, and went home.
His first day was similar to Chippie’s.
“How was it?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he replied.
So it’s nice to know we’re all good.