Jack started at a new pre-school this week. We had kept him at his old kinder after we moved even though it was a long drive, as all his friends were there and he loved it. However, as the year has gone on the commute has become harder and harder on the little man. Initially, we reduced his days from three to two, but it still wasn't enough to alleviate the exhaustion from leaving home at 6.30 in the morning and returning with Daddy after work. We also realised that he would know absolutely no-one when he started school next year, which wouldn't be very fair on him. So we decided to find Jack a new kinder, close to the school he will attend in 2011 and a much shorter drive from home. And it would seem because of this move, half-way through Term Three, the emotional impact upon Jack's mummy has been considerable!
When Jack started four year old kinder at the beginning of the year, I had a three week old baby. To be honest, there was so much going on at that time (Phoebe had broken her nose; Christian had only just had heart surgery, and I was recovering from a near-fatal brush with septicaemia) that Jack's start at kinder was a very positive blip on the radar. I didn't really suffer from separation anxiety at the time, as he was so happy going off every day and I had so many other things to think about! (Bad mummy, bad mummy!!) I also haven't really thought much about the impending Prep year either, considering since February we have been enduring the aftermath of the home invasion, and the whole moving-house-building-house-renting-house debacle. So I suppose it came as a bit of a surprise this week that I became quite emotional about my baby boy all of a sudden becoming quite grown-up. (Me, emotional??? Who would have thunk it?) I took Jack into the pre-school room the other morning, and after perhaps 30 seconds of being a bit clingy, he launched into a game all by himself and told me I was ok to go. I looked at my boy, so independent, so confident, and all I could see was the tiny little baby they brought to me in hospital four years ago.
When I was pregnant with Jack, the realisation hit me that my body was taking tiny bits of itself to fashion another human body. That essentially, Jack's body was my body, and no one could tell when the division into two separate people occurred. I think most mothers would feel that you never feel completely separated from your children - certainly I still remember what each one of them felt like in my belly, how their distinct personalities shone through with their kicks and rolls. When they are sad, I feel it in my gut; when they are happy, my heart leaps with joy. When they are frightened, I want to take the source of fear away; when they are angry, I want to fight for them. This week, I have come to the abrupt realisation that Jack is about to take a tiny step away from me; fight his own battles, face his own fears, achieve his own triumphant successes. And of course, I will celebrate every moment with him, for it signifies the fact that he is growing into a happy, healthy, strong young man. In the meantime, I will cherish every second of little-boy sweetness...when he runs and grabs my legs for an impromptu cuddle...when he shares a little joke that makes no sense at all...when he crawls on top of Maisie and nearly squashes her in a hug / wrestle...when he wants to wear nothing but his Superman costume that makes his bottom look so little.
He will absolutely love school, of that I have no doubt whatsoever. When we get to the school gates in February next year, I know he will stride in with pride, excitement and confidence. And I will have a little cry (because I am a sook), and wait to pick him up at the end of the day, ready to hear all his stories. But a little part of me will go with him, always. And I will carry a piece of Jack in my heart.
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