Chippie commenced his first official day of primary school today.
Whilst a momentous occasion, my mind has been warped from being in the presence of one child or another, or many, or few over the last six weeks or so.
Being one who does not bode well not utilising my mind to its full capacity and doing stuff and things that allow me to express myself and my passions, this had a significant effect on my capacity to feel the appropriate, single Oh, My Baby Is Going To School emotion.
Rather, a billionty feelings were wending their way around my mind as we readied him for his first day.
Aside from absolutely refusing to discuss the concept of school since, well, forever, he was remarkably calm and compliant, having a shower, getting his bag ready and getting dressed.
Or he was, until he put his shirt on; a hand me down from older brothers that was ridiculously large. Whilst ‘big’ on the other two on their first day, it was never this big. I think the reality also hit him at this point and we had a small moment of discontent and defiance.
I tended to school lunches whilst Grumpy Pants dealt with the Putting On Of The Pants, Socks and Shoes – without drama, at my request. I went with my usual, quick, easy school lunch theme, including tossing stuff in the boxes however the hell I felt like it.
I had my snazzy camera (the Samsung NX300) at the ready when we arrived at school, which prompted Chippie to take off at great speed and run in the school gate.
Grumpy was relieved and highly impressed that Chippie was “excited about going to school” until I informed him it was a ruse to avoid the camera entirely.
I had worded his teacher up about the Dragon “issue” (which, really, was not an issue) and she handled the situation well, approaching the dragon with care and caution and allowing him to get to know her. She is just a little bit ace. I love her already.
Grumpy and I did attend the morning tea put on for “new” prep parents by the school, and it transpired that a lunch was also being organised. I had no intentions of going and had planned to set about doing some of my List, now I have “all this time on my hands” and “won’t know what to do with myself”.
I also needed to make a cake for Grumpy, whom happens to be having a birthday today, too. He requested a “cake with four teirs” and I laughed a lot.
Parents at the morning tea were teary and cheery, usually both at the same time. I was a little disconcerted to find I felt neither, really. Just tired. I still need that break and the last time I had the opportunity, it swept by due to the funeral of my friend who suicided last year.
This, itself, is another thing that has come to the fore of my mind over the last few weeks, amongst other things, and I wonder if it is due to my being tired and constantly in need by someone else, needing that break and I’m a little vulnerable to such things right now.
I stood in the kitchen, alone, Grumpy having head out the door for work, and it hit me that my mind now had the space to open up to all those things that had been weighing me down and hanging around over the last year or so. It had opened up, just a crack, and was allowing those thoughts to slip through, all those feelings and emotions I have held back for so long because I just hadn’t had a chance to deal with them.
So I ditched the making a cake idea, determined to do it after school, and went to lunch with the other school mums, some of whom I’ve known for years, since our now ten-year-olds were at kinder, and some since Chippie attended childcare.
It was a good move; lots of laughter, nice food and, my genius brain wave, coffee and dessert in one. I didn’t really feel like dessert, per se, but needed the coffee; so I just combined the two with an affogatto.
Go straight from “lunch” to school pick up, am told Chippie had his older buddies draw him a dragon or seven, that he’d had a fall, grazed his knees, screamed a lot, got a hug from the 5/6 teacher whom he has known for years, refused bandaids on his sore knees, but did manage to have the teacher draw dragons on the bandaids, which he then continued to refuse to have placed on his knees, preferring them as stickers on his arms, instead.
The tears had stopped, however, and happiness prevailed.
He did, overall, have a great day. I knew he would.
He feel over again, running to the car, where I remembered he had piano lessons and I’d forgotten his books. This also deferred the plans to do birthday cake.
He fell over again, running to his lesson, screamed some more and then did a great job.
Arrive home just before 5.00p.m. where the kid persistently asked for pizza – something I said I would make on Wednesday night, and promptly forgot about due to stress, tired, needing a break and kids who persistently asked me for things when their father was standing right beside them, not doing much else (I don’t blame him, by the way – it’s all them!).
I still had to do cake, and Chippie insisted on helping.
So I let him and we mixed it and baked it and then we decorated it.
I gave it the “Four tiers” that had been requested, and given I have learnt my smartarse skills from the best – i.e. my darling beloved – all he could say when I presented with the Cake With Four Tears is “you’re a smartarse”.
In fairness, he did also so thank you.
It wasn’t that plain, however. Chippie had also insisted on being heavily involved in the decorating process and I let him … it wasn’t worth the arguing and he was so happy and willing to do it.
I think I have some Cake Decorating Competition in the house now …