Yesterday was my baby girls first day at preschool.
Baby Ben stirred around 5.15am and I, bleary eyed, walked down the hall to pop his dummy in hoping for another hour sleep.
I hoped back into bed and was suddenly far too awake for that hour of the morning, but it hit me. Today was Sophie’s first day of preschool.
We’d put her name down, what felt like a lifetime ago. We’d talked about how fun preschool would be. We did the couple of orientations, and still the actual starting day just seemed like it wouldn’t roll around and I wouldn’t have to experience it.
Yet there I was at 5.30am wondering if I should get up and make her lunch just to make sure I was super organised.
I started thinking… What if they forget to change her nappy. What if she gets picked on. What if she just really really hates it. But those thoughts weren’t going to get me anywhere.
She’ll love it, I convinced myself.
So I lay there until 6.15 when I gave up and got up.
Soph woke up her usual happy self and we started talking about preschool. After she ate her breakfast she wrapped her arms around me and gave me the biggest bear hug, it took everything in me not to start crying.
We set off for the short walk to preschool, Sophie excited, me a bit nervous, and as soon as we arrived she headed straight for the paints. I found where to put all her stuff and took a deep breath.
John said goodbye to her and she happily yelled Bye Daddy! But when I said goodbye she looked at me and said no mummy sit down, mummy stay at preschool.
My heart sank. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, was all I could think. I sat down for a couple of minutes, John and Ben went and waited outside the gate. Then a lovely teacher came over with another little new boy and introduced him to Sophie. I took my opportunity to quickly say goodbye and with a reassuring smile from the teacher I quickly walked to the gate.
I barely made it out the gate before the tears started. Tears of sadness that my baby was growing up. Tears of hope, hope that she would love it.
I kept extremely busy, tidying and cleaning the house, yet still thinking of her every second. But when the phone rang at 1.50pm I just knew it was going to be the preschool.
She was ok, but very tired, and had got quite upset a few times during the day but thankfully settled quickly. They suggested I pick her up early.
Ben and I power walked straight over there and when she saw me she dropped the bottom lip and the tears started to flow, followed by ‘home mummy’.
My heart broke. I hated the thought of her being so upset during the day, wondering when I was coming back.
I managed to keep it together and she calmed down while I collected her things. She showed me some toys, said goodbye to all her teachers and said bye preschool see you soon.
This morning she said to me, I painting at preschool. Sophie crying.
I said you don’t need to cry at preschool, you can have fun, and mummy will always come and get you. She happily shouted out, daddy, mummy always get you!
I’m dreading next Monday as she now knows that I don’t stay at preschool, but hopefully each week can only get better.
Thinking of all the kids starting a new chapter in their lives, and their parents who not only have their own emotions to deal with, but their kid’s as well. xx
Is it society that makes us paranoid? Or maybe it’s the media. Or maybe there’s just too many not so nice people in the world these days.
On a recent trip to the park with the kids there was a man sitting in one of those basket swings that was slightly away from the rest of the play equipment where Sophie and her little friend were playing. My friend made mention of him and how he kept looking over towards the kids.
My immediate thought was that he was dodgy and we kept an extra close eye on the girls. After he made his way away from the park we joked about being paranoid mum’s, but really, you just don’t know.
Today I was at Big W in the kids clothes section when a lady, probably in her late 30′s appeared around the corner of an aisle and promptly asked me, ‘I don’t know whether to get him a size 0 or 1?’ I smiled and continued to try and get Sophie to try a hat on and bribe her with a milkshake. The lady came closer holding an outfit, telling me how cute it was and heard me asking Sophie to please try a hat on for preschool next year.
She exclaimed ‘Wow’ and asked Sophie where she was going to preschool. Thank god I thought that she can’t answer. Once again I just smiled, conscious not to get into a conversation. Then she turned her attention to Ben. My mind starts racing that any minute she was going to reach into the trolley grab Ben’s capsule and take off with him like one of those crazy women desperate for a child out of a bad daytime movie. Thankfully Sophie asked very loudly for a milkshake and we made a quick exit.
Then this afternoon I went to Medicare, which is now combined with the Centrelink office. As I was walking along the footpath a parking inspector was writing out a ticket when a man flew out of Centrelink/Medicare and started abusing the parking lady, calling her every name imaginable and blaming Centrelink as to why he hadn’t bought a ticket. He was holding a baby girl probably about 6 months old, while his partner and little boy, probably about 3 looked on.
I quickly made my way into the Medicare office only to have him follow and begin abusing Centrelink staff. Between the swearing, I heard something about after school care and why weren’t they paying for it. A threat of calling the cops only made him worse.
My mind starts racing, what if he’s got a knife or worse a gun. I’m so thankful I didn’t have the kids with me and that I’d left them at home with my mum.
The man at the park was probably just filling in some time and the basket swing does look awful comfy.
The woman in Big W was probably just lonely and wanted a chat.
The man in Centrelink while crazy, probably didn’t have a knife or a gun and probably wasn’t about to take us all hostage.
All just crazy thoughts of every parents worst nightmares dreamt up in my sleep deprived foggy mummy head.
And then I think of Daniel Morcombe and think, when it comes to your kids, you just can’t be too careful.
So spare a thought for the Morcombe’s as they finally lay their son to rest tomorrow. And go and hug your kids just that little bit tighter.
No 2 pregnancies are the same. This may seem like an ‘um yeah’ statement but it wasn’t until yesterday that I fully realised it. All through this pregnancy I’ve compared everything to my first one. How sick I was at the beginning, how I’m carrying the baby, how many stretch marks I’ve got, and when I would go into labour.
A lot of my comparisons were trying to guess if it was a girl or a boy. That we still don’t know, and as a friend pointed out the other day, she had 3 very different pregnancies and had 3 boys!
So when I started having contractions around every 10 minutes the other night I assumed I was in labour, it would progress like it did with Sophie, we’d go to the hospital and I’d finally get this baby out! Well. No such luck was had. After 3.5 hours of contractions it all fizzled out. To nothing. I was bummed to say the least.
Then at my Obstetrician check up yesterday he burst my going into labour any day now bubble even further informing me that the baby hadn’t even engaged.
What?! Oh and more false starts could be had, and the baby is face up (posterior) making it hard for it to get into the engaged position.
My response ‘but I didn’t have any of this with Sophie’. My docs response, ‘No 2 pregnancies are ever the same’.
That I now appreciate! So as the days drag on I am willing this not so little bundle of joy to roll over face the right way and make its way in the right direction so we can finally meet him or her! And with no induction spots available until next weekend (unless someone has their baby early and I can have their spot) the thought of being pregnant for one more whole week is enough for me to contemplate eating a handful of chilli’s.