Sep
1
2010
To my boy on starting school…
To my boy, on the eve of starting school:
Five…the number of years you so nearly are….five…the number of years we’ve hung out together…five…the years which are the most formative of a child’s life … five….the number of years it’s been since I parted ways with corporate life for you…five…the minutes that it seems like since you were born. Five.
What a journey we’ve been on together, right from the moment you were thrust in to my arms, brand new in the world. You frowned at me and looked so puzzled by it all, quizzical and questioning right from the start. I passed you to your Daddy and I watched him stick his tongue out at you, and you did it right back. Five minutes old and already wanting to be ‘just like Daddy’. In that moment, I saw your Daddy fall in love with you and, through the fug of drugs and a 3 day labour, our family was born and bonded.
There have been highs…there have been lows….you didn’t like to sleep a lot at first, but you’ve made up for it since. For a long time you didn’t talk and I used to wonder what it would be like to have a conversation with you. I have a clear recollection of driving with you, mute, in the back and trying to imagine what it might be like to chatter with you. I couldn’t begin to think what it might be like. How times change, now I can’t imagine what we ever did together before you could talk. What on earth did we get up to in those first, silent 2 years?
You preferred to concentrate on the physical stuff. You sat up, crawled, walked, jumped, ran and climbed ‘early’, which seemed very exciting at the time. Now you can ride a bike (and are about to get you first, serious road bike for your birthday), swim unaided, can run like the wind and have a real talent for tennis. Where did you get all these physical skills from because they certainly don’t come from me.
You can read, and I just LOVE that. I loved the look on your face as you pointed and sounded out the phonics and then blended the words. You did that chuckle that only a parent will notice and cherish, the one that means “Oh! I’m doing it…I’m doing it!” And you’re so ready for school that you went to bed telling me you didn’t need a story, “because I need a good night’s sleep before my Big Day”.
How did you get so big, oh boy of mine? You were so tiny when you were born. Newborn clothes swamped you. Trudy had to go out and buy ‘tiny baby’ clothes and even they swamped you. I fussed and I fretted over your weight. I wondered if breastfeeding was ‘enough’ despite all the advice that it was. It was hard but we stuck with it, and I’m glad that we did. I remember our last feed so vividly. You were 10 months old, I was 2 months pregnant with your brother and the strain of growing one baby and nourishing you was beginning to tell. And you’d started biting, ouch! So we had ‘one last feed’, early in the morning in bed. You finished feeding, looked up at me, gave a HUGE milky grin and crawled off. It seemed fitting that you showed your independence by crawling away from your last feed…I worried that you wouldn’t been keen to give up feeding from me, but you never tried again.
Along the way we acquired a third playmate, and your relationship with you brother has never ceased to enthrall me. The sibling relationship is a mystery to me, as an only child. But watching you develop a wonderful relationship with Diggy, quite separate and distinct from you relationship from me and your Daddy has been a joy from the start. When I was pregnant with Diggy I worried, endlessly, that I was depriving you of your babyhood. To an extent that was true, you were so little when he was born and you had to be the ‘big boy’. But the relationship that quickly developed has made it all so, so worthwhile and I’m so proud of both my boys for the love and tenderness you (mostly) show to each other.
And here we are, at the crossroads of ‘five’. Our merry band of one mummy, two smalls boys about to be split up – one big boy to school, one small boy to nursery, one tearful mummy just muddling along. I’m thrilled for you about starting school, I couldn’t be happier with the school that you’re going to. You’re so, so ready. You have so many friends to start school with. How blessed we are! You are starting your journey, the biggest journey you will ever embark on and I’m right there behind you, every step of the way. I don’t think it’s overstating matters to say that the rest of your life starts tomorrow. “Education…education…education”…it’s not just a political slogan.
“I just want you to be happy!”, this is the battle cry of many a parent including myself. But, in the end, being happy and fulfilled will probably come down to having choices about what you want to do in life. I believe that education is the key to knowing what you want, and having the ability to do it. I hope we’ve chosen a school where you can flourish and grow in to your skin.
One journey is ending for us, precious boy, and the next is beginning. I would be lying if I said I’ve treasured every moment of the last 5 years because, hand on heart, there have been times when it felt too hard and there have been a lot of tears along the way. But I wouldn’t change things for the world and I’m proud that we’ve made this journey together. I never intended to give up my career to stay home with you but that’s how it turned out, and I’m so glad it did. These precious years aren’t coming back again.
So, to my boy on starting school, I give you this….courage to know who you are and defend it to the end…vision to know who your friends are because, in the end, they will mean more than you can ever imagine…steeliness of spirit to fight through the worst of it…energy to make the most of every opportunity that comes your way…inquisitiveness which is the foundation of learning and patience enough to deal with the inevitable frustrations along the way.
As I write I am unravelling my apron strings and weaving them in to wings. Wings to set you free with…
Love from Mummy xxx
