Thursday, August 9, 2012

Sometimes, there are just some things that I can't make funny.

Just in case you were here for laughs I included this pic, which has nothing to do with anything, but its the funniest thing about this post, you can come back tomorrow when I will be funny again.

I did it, I just bit the bullet, made the phone call and did it.

Today I enrolled Ms three into Preschool.

It is a job I have put off, for very selfish reasons, for a very long time.

I was once one of those parents, whom craved preschool days like I craved air. They were fundamentally necessary. Not just when I was working out of the house, but just necessary to my mental health.
When the boys were at preschool, I would count down the days till preschool day. I would put off every errand that was difficult to do with small children (ALL) until preschool day. I would lovingly pack tiny bags with hats and sheets the night before preschool day, and I would do it with a spring in my step in anticipation of the FREEDOM… oh the freedom.

Not with Ms three. 

The thought of preschool gave me a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When other well meaning parents would suggest that it might be time for preschool, I could never meet their eye and I would change the subject to something else, ANYtHING else, and quickly. The quicker the better, to avoid that heavy feeling settling into my gut where it would only simmer.
Why can’t people mind their own fucking business? Why did they have to remind me?

Preschool had become in my mind, the end of an era, because I suppose it is. It should be a happy momentous event, the next stage… Well done mum, you survived.

I looked on the next stage for Ms Three as acknowledgment that my little girl was no longer a baby. Conformation that I had missed it. I don’t remember her being a baby that well, and the minute I dropped her off at preschool, then that would be it. I could no longer have her all to myself; I could no longer make it up to her, just her and I with all the time in the world to fill her days with as much mum as I could.

Just in case.

Just in case, there was a tiny bit of her that would remember the time I couldn’t bear to look at her. 

I wanted to look at her all day, just so she would know.
She would know I was sorry, she would know I never meant for it.
I want to look in her eyes when she speaks to me. I want to touch her face so that I can map her with my hands and even if I go blind I’ll never forget what she looks like again.

I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else caring for her.

Then something beautiful happened recently.

I lost my temper.

I had an internal moment of frustration and red hot rage.
KID, just give FIVE minutes to finish this PLEASE! I’m busy right now kind of hot frustration, and she looked at me and said that she wanted someone to play with.

I told her I would just be FIVE more minutes, and she replied that she didn’t always want to play with me, and it didnt sting.
I knew right then that it was Ok to let her be. I could let her go, GO PLAY! GO BE! It was RIGHT, and I would be RIGHT here.

I remembered I used to be like that. I felt it and I remembered.

I found a gorgeous preschool, with one free spot on one free day, run by very qualified hippies... with a children's veggie patch, that grew and fed  an organic menu, a fantastic realistic discipline policy, a cubby house, a play in the mud policy and a creek that ran the whole way through the playground that filled in the summer for ankle deep play… with someone other than me.

I took her for orientation and she didn’t want to leave. She cried and stood in the middle of the cubby house and refused to move.

It was actually a little bit embarrassing... I made a joke to the teacher that I was clearly Mother of the Year if she didn’t want to come home, didn’t they usually cry when you drop them off? Because that’s what I do, I make jokes when it’s hard and people think I am a weirdo, but I wasn't the one with a creek and mud policy, so it was all OK. 

The preschool teacher looked at me and said she was doing just fine, and it was lovely to see someone so ready for preschool.

She is ready, and I am ready, the next stage didn’t feel like a pit in my stomach, it felt like letting go.
I wasn’t letting go of my baby girl, I was letting go of not wanting to let go.

My blog is very busy right now, Its OK, and I feel the craving for preschool beginning... and it feels like sunshine, great hair and kittens n shit.....

Em xx
(Thanks for helping me to be busy peeps.. Really x)

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