I don't think it has quite sunk in yet that today is Chloe's last Friday as a preschooler. Which also means that we have a total of six last such&suchadays left before she starts school this coming Thursday.
Once Thursday has come and gone it will be seven years before another big change in her life. Seven looooong years before we her last ever Primary School Friday and then she'll be off to secondary school.
It amazes me just how quickly the milestones slow down and grow fewer and farther between.
I still remember when these little changes flew towards and past me, sometimes like machine gun fire, it was difficult to recover from the last one before being hit by the next.
Like the day I could have taken off full pelt, fists in the air for a lap of honour around the block because she'd finally taken a full 8oz at a feed. The first time she slept right through the night without waking. Her first tooth. The day what I thought was colic disappeared forever and I finally realised that my little girl's wind went down rather than up and I'd just been patting the wrong end for the last two weeks.
Her first night away from home. Her first birthday. Her first dentist appointment and her first hair cut. Her first smile, first giggle and of course, her first tantrum.
She tried her new uniform on this morning again because firstly I wanted to be sure that she hadn't mysteriously grown half a foot overnight (it happens) and secondly because I just wanted to see her in it again. Her face lights up when she wears it and she looks so grown up.
So now we're down to her last six days as a preschooler, but there will be many days to come after that. The world isn't coming to an end, just a small part of her life and each of those days to come will be just as special as the last and we're looking forward to each and every last one of them.
Showing posts with label Firsts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Firsts. Show all posts
I need your help
Two weeks from today my little girl will start school.
I mean look at her, she's such a tiny little thing. The thing is though, she just can't wait to get to school. She talks of nothing else, every day "Am I going to school today mummy?". The same question every single morning.
We already have her uniform.
And her shoes...
With the little kitties on the outside of the shoes requested by the school so that she can tell easily which shoe goes with which foot. Well hey didn't have to be kitties, but you get the idea.
So now my little girl has a drawer in her room filled with green polo shirts, royal blue jumpers, grey trousers, skirts and pinafores, not to mention tiny little white socks which amazing reach all the way past her knees, grey tights, new pants and vests and little white airtex t-shirts for PE and toffee soled plimsoles so they don't leave marks on the games hall floor. We have her school bag and her PE bag and I'm in the middle of labeling everything with her name.
We don't' have shorts for PE yet, but it's still quite strange looking into that drawer.
This is my first year doing the school supplies thing, but tell me this. Is it perfectly normally to get annoyed over silly little things when you're trying to get every bought and organised.
Case in point, regarding the PE shorts. I've had a look in a few shops now and I'm just not coming across anything suitable. Just to see if I could get lucky and find a pair I went in to Tesco yesterday. I walked along the aisles of clothes. Passing by the boys clothes I noticed perfect little shorts for a boy's PE kit, nice little navy ones with pale blue stripes up each side and the reverse, pale blue with navy stripes, just the right length and with a bit of room in them for running.
Then I walked around to the girl's side and saw the offerings. One lonely design, a pack of two pairs of shorts. And I mean shorts. One pair white, the other baby pink and they actually had that cutaway scallop at the side which took the sides of the shorts even closer to the child's hips, if such a thing is even possible.
I took one look at them and all I could here in my head was "Hi, Welcome to Hooters. My name is Candi and I'll be your waitress." No daughter of mine will ever be seen dead wearing shorts like that!
Speaking of which, I think my friends and I were the only ones to go to Hooters when it opened in Belfast. From memory they were read the riot act on false advertising and closed shortly thereafter:)
Anyway, back to the point. Is it silly to get annoyed about the fact that shops seem perfectly capable of providing suitable shorts for boys but at the same time they thing that I should be willing to dress my daughter like a cheap slapper? I think not!
So we're nearly ready, bar the shorts.
Toots can't wait and the husband is so proud of her. I mean really proud, you should see the look he gets in his eyes and the little secret smile on his face when she talks about school. Toots just doesn't have any fear about school whatsoever and she looks so grown up now. She's just ready to go and the husband is really happy to see her like that. Ready to take on the world!
I think when we brought her out of daycare way back at the start of the year we were a bit worried that she would get so used to being at home with me by this time that the very thought of school would freak her out a bit, but that just hasn't been the case. I love her so much and I'm so proud of her myself.
Now, the title of this post suggests that I need your help and here's where you come in.
You see everyone thinks this is fantastic, my mum, dad, brother, the husband and I do too. But there's still this tiny little part of me. And I do mean a tiny, little insignificant part of me that needs to freeeeeaaaaak out.
And I mean bouncing off the walls fah-reak-ing out and someone has to come along for the ride.
She's just so.....small!
Seriously, I remember bringing her home from the hospital like a week and a half ago and she would lie with her little face buried in the side of my neck and her legs curled up so that her feet only reached as far as my chest and I would sit with her like that for hours, rubbing my thumbs along the soles of her feet while she slept and rolling her little toes back and forward between my thumb and forefinger while she smiled up at me.
And now I'm supposed to just send her off to school in two weeks when she'll be, what does that work out at, like three and a half weeks old. Really?
I pretty sure I'm entitled to have a mini panic attack of sorts.
So who's in?
I mean look at her, she's such a tiny little thing. The thing is though, she just can't wait to get to school. She talks of nothing else, every day "Am I going to school today mummy?". The same question every single morning.
We already have her uniform.
And her shoes...
With the little kitties on the outside of the shoes requested by the school so that she can tell easily which shoe goes with which foot. Well hey didn't have to be kitties, but you get the idea.
So now my little girl has a drawer in her room filled with green polo shirts, royal blue jumpers, grey trousers, skirts and pinafores, not to mention tiny little white socks which amazing reach all the way past her knees, grey tights, new pants and vests and little white airtex t-shirts for PE and toffee soled plimsoles so they don't leave marks on the games hall floor. We have her school bag and her PE bag and I'm in the middle of labeling everything with her name.
We don't' have shorts for PE yet, but it's still quite strange looking into that drawer.
This is my first year doing the school supplies thing, but tell me this. Is it perfectly normally to get annoyed over silly little things when you're trying to get every bought and organised.
Case in point, regarding the PE shorts. I've had a look in a few shops now and I'm just not coming across anything suitable. Just to see if I could get lucky and find a pair I went in to Tesco yesterday. I walked along the aisles of clothes. Passing by the boys clothes I noticed perfect little shorts for a boy's PE kit, nice little navy ones with pale blue stripes up each side and the reverse, pale blue with navy stripes, just the right length and with a bit of room in them for running.
Then I walked around to the girl's side and saw the offerings. One lonely design, a pack of two pairs of shorts. And I mean shorts. One pair white, the other baby pink and they actually had that cutaway scallop at the side which took the sides of the shorts even closer to the child's hips, if such a thing is even possible.
I took one look at them and all I could here in my head was "Hi, Welcome to Hooters. My name is Candi and I'll be your waitress." No daughter of mine will ever be seen dead wearing shorts like that!
Speaking of which, I think my friends and I were the only ones to go to Hooters when it opened in Belfast. From memory they were read the riot act on false advertising and closed shortly thereafter:)
Anyway, back to the point. Is it silly to get annoyed about the fact that shops seem perfectly capable of providing suitable shorts for boys but at the same time they thing that I should be willing to dress my daughter like a cheap slapper? I think not!
So we're nearly ready, bar the shorts.
Toots can't wait and the husband is so proud of her. I mean really proud, you should see the look he gets in his eyes and the little secret smile on his face when she talks about school. Toots just doesn't have any fear about school whatsoever and she looks so grown up now. She's just ready to go and the husband is really happy to see her like that. Ready to take on the world!
I think when we brought her out of daycare way back at the start of the year we were a bit worried that she would get so used to being at home with me by this time that the very thought of school would freak her out a bit, but that just hasn't been the case. I love her so much and I'm so proud of her myself.
Now, the title of this post suggests that I need your help and here's where you come in.
You see everyone thinks this is fantastic, my mum, dad, brother, the husband and I do too. But there's still this tiny little part of me. And I do mean a tiny, little insignificant part of me that needs to freeeeeaaaaak out.
And I mean bouncing off the walls fah-reak-ing out and someone has to come along for the ride.
She's just so.....small!
Seriously, I remember bringing her home from the hospital like a week and a half ago and she would lie with her little face buried in the side of my neck and her legs curled up so that her feet only reached as far as my chest and I would sit with her like that for hours, rubbing my thumbs along the soles of her feet while she slept and rolling her little toes back and forward between my thumb and forefinger while she smiled up at me.
And now I'm supposed to just send her off to school in two weeks when she'll be, what does that work out at, like three and a half weeks old. Really?
I pretty sure I'm entitled to have a mini panic attack of sorts.
So who's in?
I'm so old...
We had our first day in school on Monday.
Well not a full day, not even a half day. Ok, we had our first half hour in school yesterday. Alright, fair enough, Toots had her first half hour in school yesterday.
I was convinced it wasn't going to go well at all.
For starters, I managed to get the idea in my head that her school visit was at the end of June. Then yesterday, I was cleaning up after lunch and I was putting a few things away in the larder. I came back out again and closed the door and caught sight of the letter from the school attached to the notice board. I walked on past and headed back out to the garden again, but something about that letter jarred and I pelted back into the kitchen at break neck speed, very nearly falling over the child's scooter in the process, and grabbed the letter.
I looked at the letter, school visit - 8 June 2009 2.15-2.45pm, I looked at the clock 2.10pm.
"Frick, frick, frick, crap, Toots get in here quickly, you're supposed to be in school today."
"What?"
"You're supposed to be in...... Where are your shoes?"
"I don't have any shoes."
"You have shoes, you had shoes, you went outside ten minutes ago with shoes."
"No I didn't."
Oh joy!
So now we're running down the street, well I'm running down the street with a 4 year old under my arm like a rugby ball gleefully reacquainting herself with her long lost shoes.
The shoes were located in a tree and now my arms are covered with scratches from trying to get them back out again. Turns out the four year old can fit into much smaller places than I can. Who knew!
We were ten feet from the school gates and only a minute or two late. I figured we were good since I doubted all the children walked into the classroom, sat down quickly and quietly and were ready to begin at bang on 2.15pm. Then Toots decides that its "too bouncy" being carried. She wants down to run herself.
Fair enough sweetheart, you're not exactly light as a feather anymore.
Three steps she managed.
Three steps at full speed.
Then she went flying onto her face.
Her knees were cut, her hands were cut, she missed her face, thank god.
The wallop of her hitting the ground was deafening and then came the screaming.
High pitched wails echoed around the otherwise completely noiseless street.
I rubbed her knees, I rubbed her hands, I rubbed her elbows and still she screamed.
I asked if she wanted to go home, I'd phone the school and explain, but no she insisted she wanted to go.
We continued to the school gates, still wailing.
We walked across the school grounds, still wailing.
We walked into the P1 courtyard and knocked on the door, still wailing.
All I could think was, I'm buggered, she's going to go in here and cry for the entire half hour and disrupt everyone and her first experience with school will be crying her eyes out and me having to take her out of the room away from everyone.
And then the door opened, the tears dried, a smile appeared and off she ran, yelling something about me going home for coffee and she'd see me later.
Have you ever taken an appliance back to the shop because it wasn't working only for the 12 year old behind the counter to try it and have it work perfectly thereby making a complete liar out of you?
It felt a bit like that.
I went to get her some strawberries from the shop and then headed back again to collect her.
I've spent weeks now telling her all the lovely things about school and do you know that when she got into that classroom she only remembered one thing. Her teacher informed me that she'd barely sat down on her seat when she piped up "You don't have a blackboard. My mummy said if I was a good girl you'd let me clean the blackboard".
Well, my primary school did that. Does anyone else remember getting to clean the blackboard and it not being a punishment for something?
Turns out schools don't have blackboards anymore. They have "interactive whiteboards". Wha???
So I'm old.
I remember blackboards and real chalk and sandpits and reading corners at the back of the classroom. I remember getting to have a nap in the afternoon. I remember those little miniature versions of the full sized glass bottles of milk with the proper foil cap and the little blue straw we were given to push through the lid.
I remember non nutritionally balanced school dinners. I remember huge shortbread biscuits I needed two hands to hold and big metal jugs filled with strawberry milkshake. I remember chips on Friday and tinned fruit cocktail and semolina. I remember sausage pie and the cornflake buns that were a layer of shortbread, a layer of strawberry jam and a layer of cornflakes bound together with golden syrup and probably MSG, but oh they were good.
I remember kids weren't overweight either. And I never met anyone with an allergy until I was in my 20s.
Maybe I am getting old.
Maybe I can only be truly nostalgic and remember how good it used to be now that I am old and everything has become "safe" and "portion controlled" and "monitored" and, and clinical.
I don't know.
My back's killing me though.
What's your favourite memory from your school days?
Well not a full day, not even a half day. Ok, we had our first half hour in school yesterday. Alright, fair enough, Toots had her first half hour in school yesterday.
I was convinced it wasn't going to go well at all.
For starters, I managed to get the idea in my head that her school visit was at the end of June. Then yesterday, I was cleaning up after lunch and I was putting a few things away in the larder. I came back out again and closed the door and caught sight of the letter from the school attached to the notice board. I walked on past and headed back out to the garden again, but something about that letter jarred and I pelted back into the kitchen at break neck speed, very nearly falling over the child's scooter in the process, and grabbed the letter.
I looked at the letter, school visit - 8 June 2009 2.15-2.45pm, I looked at the clock 2.10pm.
"Frick, frick, frick, crap, Toots get in here quickly, you're supposed to be in school today."
"What?"
"You're supposed to be in...... Where are your shoes?"
"I don't have any shoes."
"You have shoes, you had shoes, you went outside ten minutes ago with shoes."
"No I didn't."
Oh joy!
So now we're running down the street, well I'm running down the street with a 4 year old under my arm like a rugby ball gleefully reacquainting herself with her long lost shoes.
The shoes were located in a tree and now my arms are covered with scratches from trying to get them back out again. Turns out the four year old can fit into much smaller places than I can. Who knew!
We were ten feet from the school gates and only a minute or two late. I figured we were good since I doubted all the children walked into the classroom, sat down quickly and quietly and were ready to begin at bang on 2.15pm. Then Toots decides that its "too bouncy" being carried. She wants down to run herself.
Fair enough sweetheart, you're not exactly light as a feather anymore.
Three steps she managed.
Three steps at full speed.
Then she went flying onto her face.
Her knees were cut, her hands were cut, she missed her face, thank god.
The wallop of her hitting the ground was deafening and then came the screaming.
High pitched wails echoed around the otherwise completely noiseless street.
I rubbed her knees, I rubbed her hands, I rubbed her elbows and still she screamed.
I asked if she wanted to go home, I'd phone the school and explain, but no she insisted she wanted to go.
We continued to the school gates, still wailing.
We walked across the school grounds, still wailing.
We walked into the P1 courtyard and knocked on the door, still wailing.
All I could think was, I'm buggered, she's going to go in here and cry for the entire half hour and disrupt everyone and her first experience with school will be crying her eyes out and me having to take her out of the room away from everyone.
And then the door opened, the tears dried, a smile appeared and off she ran, yelling something about me going home for coffee and she'd see me later.
Have you ever taken an appliance back to the shop because it wasn't working only for the 12 year old behind the counter to try it and have it work perfectly thereby making a complete liar out of you?
It felt a bit like that.
I went to get her some strawberries from the shop and then headed back again to collect her.
I've spent weeks now telling her all the lovely things about school and do you know that when she got into that classroom she only remembered one thing. Her teacher informed me that she'd barely sat down on her seat when she piped up "You don't have a blackboard. My mummy said if I was a good girl you'd let me clean the blackboard".
Well, my primary school did that. Does anyone else remember getting to clean the blackboard and it not being a punishment for something?
Turns out schools don't have blackboards anymore. They have "interactive whiteboards". Wha???
So I'm old.
I remember blackboards and real chalk and sandpits and reading corners at the back of the classroom. I remember getting to have a nap in the afternoon. I remember those little miniature versions of the full sized glass bottles of milk with the proper foil cap and the little blue straw we were given to push through the lid.
I remember non nutritionally balanced school dinners. I remember huge shortbread biscuits I needed two hands to hold and big metal jugs filled with strawberry milkshake. I remember chips on Friday and tinned fruit cocktail and semolina. I remember sausage pie and the cornflake buns that were a layer of shortbread, a layer of strawberry jam and a layer of cornflakes bound together with golden syrup and probably MSG, but oh they were good.
I remember kids weren't overweight either. And I never met anyone with an allergy until I was in my 20s.
Maybe I am getting old.
Maybe I can only be truly nostalgic and remember how good it used to be now that I am old and everything has become "safe" and "portion controlled" and "monitored" and, and clinical.
I don't know.
My back's killing me though.
What's your favourite memory from your school days?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)