"Three year old or four year old next year?" the woman with the clipboard at the door asked us.
"Three year old," we replied in unison.
"Great, take a name tag with a blue dot, these are for the three year old parents next year, and you can find others with a blue dot and chat to them to get to know them!"
We were the first at the kinder information night last night, because that's just how we roll. We're nothing if not punctual, Simon and I.
We took our seats and I tried to avoid contact with everyone. Those with blue dots, and those with red dots who in another life, another parallel universe somewhere, we would have been instructed to talk to and to get to know.
The parents' committee chairperson came over to chat to us, and looked down at the blue dots on our name tags. She exclaimed: "so, you have a three year old coming next year, is this your first?" I took a deep breath and was about to explain our convoluted yes/no answer to that question, still burnt from the other day in the shopping centre change room, but Simon jumped in and answered yes. I guess sometimes it is just easier that way, but it did make a lump form in my throat that I found hard to budge for the rest of the night.
"How exciiiiiiting!" she said. I think people who inhabit those types of roles are just the excitable types. I felt anything but excited, and was hoping they were serving something a little stronger than cups of tea at the refreshment table.
We got through the meeting, made sure not to raise our hands or so much as wink or fart when they were taking nominations for next year's kinder committee, and scurried out the door as fast as we could. First in, and first to leave.
Those triggers, they continue to come at me, hard and fast.
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I'm always the first person at an event too, Sally. Punctuality is definitely my thing! I'm sorry that you've had two bittersweet reminders this week that you should have had the privilege of doing all of this once before. The innocent questions people ask, and the emotional tumult they create...I hope you got to at least meet some other nice parents. xx
ReplyDeleteThose questions will keep coming, throughout the school years. The TA in LM's Kindy asked me at the start of the year, "So, you just have the two kids then?" I wanted to blurt out: "No, I actually have three. My oldest would have been in Year 3 this year, learning the violin and doing her NAPLAN. She would be turning nine. You just can't see her. She's dead. But she's always on the periphery of every aspect of our family life."
ReplyDeleteInstead I said, "Yes. Just two." Those three words. Simple. Yet, a depth of unspoken longing hidden there.
I image the heartache with each question answered the *wrong* way.
ReplyDeleteI imagine myself to pipe up, and say something...like..."yes, this is our first *that is in school*". Kind of leaving everything open for interpretation. But I've already been bit in the ass with giving people the benefit of the doubt to understand. They only hear what they want to hear...and my first born goes completely unnoticed anyhow. So I see that it *is* easier to just take it upon myself, and leave him out, and hold him tight.
I completely understand feeling the sting, and then wanting to make up for it with the next opportunity to include your first. It goes round and round. Never enough...never quite right.
You're a strong mum. Your kids are lucky.
Such a hard and ever-popping up question with no good answer. Hugs to you. And I have never heard the expression 'wink fart.' Ha!
ReplyDeleteOh that question. I hate it too. I usually say, 'yes, she's my first and she has a little brother.' But I've always written on the paperwork that she had a twin sister who died at birth. Just to avoid any awkward questions down the line, I would hate anybody to think that Georgina is imaginary or a lie.
ReplyDeleteI'm very, very often the first to leave too. Always was rubbish at small talk and now I find it nearly impossible.
Hope that Angus enjoys kinder x
It bites, that question. I always struggle with the answer but know it is easier to lie. Sending you much love...
ReplyDeleteWe are super punctual as well.
ReplyDeleteI wish you were able to wear both a red dot and a blue dot ... Seems only fair.
I was asking at Kai's school about when Harlow can start. Because of her birthday... Not until she is two. It was a lottery to get our highly covetted spot, but siblings get automatic entrance. I wanted to play the dead baby card and say, cant we just use Camille's spot, but of course I didn't. Fuck me this sucks!
Sending love xx
ReplyDeleteI just can't not mention him... perhaps that's why our friends are dropping like flies, and any potentially new ones are fake-smile-grimacing before making their hasty exits.
ReplyDeleteI bet someone felt super chuffed with themselves over that coloured dot idea - having no idea of the pain it would cause...
I get this, Sally. I really do, mostly at E's school when I see the little nearly-three-year-old girls running and playing, knowing Calla'd be running among them.
ReplyDeletexo
xoxo. Super duper xoxo.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for writing this post... I understand, I think, but in a totally different way. I sat in kinder orientation as the only sole parent in the room, after my kid's dad passed away two years ago.It was like what you describe here... like in another life, a parallel universe, there was a different me doing a different thing. Me with my Tony, you and your husband with Hope.
ReplyDeleteMuch, much love to you and yours. And a bucket full of hugs xxxxxx