1. Oh my god my baby is growing up! This is the start of him not wanting kisses in public. I am literally visualising him as ‘Kevin’ the shitty teenager telling me to ‘Fuck Off’ as he scuttles shyly into his classroom. My life is over.
2. He’s not growing up. He is too young! My poor guy has only just turned 4…how is he going to compete with those super clever, know every bloody word in the dictionary got all my shit together 5 year old girls?
3. I am too young to be a school mum…aren’t I?! Having major flashbacks to the end scene of the last Harry Potter when Harry, Ron and whatsername all have prosthetics on in a desperate attempt to make them look older for the final scene where they pack their children off to Hogwarts for months at a time.
4. There were some rather traumatic experiences dropping Jack off at school for the ‘taster sessions’ before September. This boy hates change and was literally peeled off me screaming shouting ‘Don’t leave me mummy!’. It was like some horrifying scene out of Sophie’s Choice. Anxiously awaiting the start of the new term, I built myself up for a heartwrenching episode and briefed his teacher accordingly. When the day of doom actually arrived he pushed me aside and walked off bold as brass into his classroom without even giving me a hug, kiss or second look. Tosser!
5. Sodding homework. My initial (if not some what deluded) fantasy of Jack doing his homework entailed us sitting together having quality time whilst he enjoyed learning. For years I have desperately tried to get him to play educational games, sit and do puzzles, practice writting his name etc. My efforts have always been met with total and utter disgust. The thought that I could suggest doing something other than line his cars up and run around with his pants down all day seemed hilarious. Maybe Jack will find the novelty of homework fun and will finally be interested…hahaha! Trying convince an exhausted 4 year old that homework is a worthwhile and important exercise is like trying to tell the entire male population that football is just a ‘game’.
6. There is a silver lining to the traumatic start of school…I may have some free time! I work three days a week so whilst my little Tasmanian Devil is at school I will have two free days a week to do as I please. I might even get a chance to meet up with some mummy friends for lunch occasionally, like one of those demented Real Housewives off the telly. Er no! I am constantly running around like a blue arsed fly. It seems that random shit just appears from no where every week to fill my days like going to the shop to get the third family pack of toilet roll that week!
7. I was very excited to kit Jack out in his new uniform. One thing I was certain of is I wanted him to have some lovely smart shoes. Not those crappy plastic trainer things I have seen. Jack and I both liked some lovely leather slightly pointed shoes from BHS that looked like Daddy’s work shoes. Six pairs of shoes later (I kid you not) I would put concrete sodding blocks on his feet if I thought they would survive the week. What the fuck is he doing to them?! Every week they have huge holes worn into them. Has he been hiking through the jungle with Bear sodding Grylls or what? Your guess is good as mine, answers on a postcard please!
8. As a parent you are learning with your child when they start school as everything has changed since you went (if you can remember that far back). I have had to learn the Jolly Phonics system and I am having to learn to write all over again. Can someone please introduce me to which ever sod decided Primary Schools need to teach cursive handwritting? The battles with Jack trying to teach him to start writting letters of the alphabet had been finally paying off until he started school and is now having to recognise and write letters in a totally different style. Cursive writting is contradictive to the print children read in a book or on the computer and more importantly seems to be totally irrelevant in Secondary School.
9. Every day we make it to school on time it is like a miracle. Each morning there is a new excuse to delay getting dressed and out of the house; ‘I am really busy playing with my cars’, ‘My bum hurts and I’m too poorly to put my pants on’, ‘I’m counting the cereal boxes’, ‘I need another poo’.
10. I could never have anticipated how futile asking the question; ‘What did you do at school today?’ was. Trying to get an information out of my son about his day or what he ate for lunch is like trying to extract state secrets from a Russian spy! The kid just doesn’t want to tell me anything. So other than the odd skid mark in his pants, I am totally clueless what he gets up to.
I would love to hear some of your starting school stories. It’s just as scary for us mums!