It was the first week… And then a week or two happened in-between where I did not post this. This morning the Engineer let me know that still, in the third week of school there are three of the little ones still crying in the mornings when being dropped off. So I would just like to say to those parents, we see you, we feel for you, but we do not know you to peel your child from around your neck!
So, back to the first day …
Just a little background. The Lilliputians started Grade R this week. It is a new school, with separate classes and up to the first day mostly excitement. I mean the mountain of stationery alone was something to dance about.
Along came the day before the first day. They call it the “kuierklas”. So the idea is that they go and meet their new teacher, see where they sit, dump their mountain of individually marked stationery.
We have known since last year that they will be in separate classes. When we broke the news Hannes was all concerned and Lisa thought it to be the best news ever. Turns out she has been fed up with this brother of hers for quite some time now- he really talks a lot .
Due to the fact that we are a dual-income home… and also that I cannot be trusted alone with my kids for extended periods of time… there is now also an aftercare. This was our next stop. And this is where Lisa’s bravery evaporated and the tears started. They were not a lot and I switched on my unsympathetic parent mode, while the teacher pulled her into a little administrative task that needed photocopies to be made. I left my own tears for the privacy of the car.
They were there for 2 hours, after which we took them for ice cream… life was fabulous. Along came day one of school. So initially there is a disagreement about underwear. I put on some makeup, something that has not happened for a few weeks because we were on holiday. Lisa asks: “why are you wearing lipstick”. I of course indicate that I want to look nice for their first day. “It’s not your first day.”… fair enough little girl.
As we walk up to the school I can already feel the circulation leaving my fingertips as she clutches my hand. Up the steps to the gate, she suddenly needs me to pick her up. And there she clings to me… like a spider monkey. Hannes gets delivered to his class first. We have to find him as he is running around high-fiving everyone: the teacher, the car guard, random other parents. As he is shown to his seat, the little arms around my neck tighten their grip. Hannes nearly forgets to say goodbye.
Off we walk to her class. There is a little hook where her backpack should go. She wants to do it herself, but she is not quite tall enough. This causes a mini thunderstorm by the classroom door. She does however need to be peeled off me, and then I run for it.
And yes, mom guilt is alive and well! As the aftercare also sends a message indicating that Mr H is on top of the world and Lisa is “not having a great day”.
Fast-forward to bedtime: Lisa puts in her prayer requests:
- Only limited amounts of crying for the next day – a little is apparently still allowed.
- No bad dreams
- That Mommy remembers their school shirts for tomorrow (fair enough)
- And that Mommy picks them up a little earlier, but only after they have played enough.
We covered all these before she fell asleep and then my son explained the problem to me. Lisa does not like strangers. Once she gets to know all these weirdos life will be a song again, but until then…
Oh, baby girl, Mamma is the same. I don’t like change. I don’t particularly like new things. I don’t like having to prove myself and introduce myself and having to ask people to like me. But little Lisa, the thing is, they are just going to adore you anyway.
Turns out her twin is wiser than his five years. Show me the mother and I will show you her child. Exactly. The. Same.
So for their first day they made crowns. Tell me that art therapy is not a thing?! This is a clear depiction of how day 1 went. May there be a little less goth in the coming projects.
