The kindy mum

"she gets me toy cars" - that's love

I've been becoming more and more fascinated with education as Tricky has grown. From reading to him every night since he was born to creating laminated writing sheets to now labeling our entire house in that god-awful Victorian Cursive font (what the hell was wrong with the ol' stick and ball, hey?), it's developed in to a bit of an obsession.

The chance to have a sneak peek in to his school world yesterday had me practically frothing at the mouth. I was certain it would be the cutest thing ever and give me some tips and ideas of things to do with the boy as he demands school work at home. No, really. His second favourite game, behind playing LEGO, is playing schools. He can read. From a few weeks ago when he was trying to, now he can (a bit). The kid blows me away.

I headed in and was not disappointed. The kids were so eager to sit next to the new adult in the room (one little boy insisted on hugging my leg and nuzzling my knee), show me their work and tell me their stories. I heard tales about Guinea Pigs, boxes of grapes, Buzz Lightyear, a windmill and every single one of them told me how old they each were after we sung happy birthday to one of the boys.

I tell ya, the cuteness was on par with a box of puppies. Freakin' adorable.

Sadly, said gorgeousness dissipated super quickly when I was sneezed on, coughed on, and had little snot covered hands grabbing at mine. You can take the gross with your own kids, but someone else's little germ filled munchkin? Ick.

The best part of the day though was being able to see how Tricky interacts in that environment. My little introvert has taken a while to warm up, so to see him participating in the singing and dancing was pure joy. He is really coming in to his own lately, and has progressed so quickly. He is blossoming and his confidence is growing so much - he will even talk to other children now - shock, horror!

I'm loving watching his development and I swell with pride that I've had something to do with it, but I know a huge part has been going to "school" and the influence of his awesome teachers, who, after today, I have even more respect for than before.

I stayed for three hours before I had to rush off to feed Bobbin. Three hours of just helping; cutting up fruit, keeping kids on task ("what great colouring in"), stopping them from climbing shit they're not meant to ("chairs are for bottoms"), and playing with them, and I was absolutely knackered. Teachers need a raise. A big one. I need a sleep. A big one... but I can't wait to do it again.

Do you like being the parent helper?

First Aid Saved My Baby

Look pensive, they said. It'll add weight to a serious issue, they said.

Instead, I look somewhere between annoyed and smug. Even potentially stoned. Bobbin looks like a deer in headlights so we make a great pair.

From The Sunday Times, 11th May 2014, page 30

BUT the point of the article, featured in the The Sunday Times on Mother's Day (and online today) is still important.

Miss Bobbin choked a few weeks back and I put the skills I learned at the St John Ambulance first aid course I attended back in December, in to action and saved her. You know, the one where she shat all over my leg a few minutes in? That was being filmed for TV so we can all remember FOREVER that I was on TV with poo stains on my leg? Yeah, that one.

Poopants or no, the point is still the same. First aid saves lives. I'm pretty chuffed with myself for being able to do it and I've already ordered my superhero cape. I made sure I mentioned that I pushed MapGuy out the way, because I have to find something about the situation to laugh at. Shoved him to the side and swooped in there in full blown Mama Bear mode.

The Target 20,000 campaign is going strong, I encourage you all to sign up and learn how to save a life or refresh your memory if it's been a while.

#notsponsored

Leraning how to say no

The universe, or my fairy godmother, or whoever must have been listening to me last week, because no sooner had I said I should have been a teacher, I was asked to interview for an amazing role.

It involved teaching parents of children from different backgrounds (predominantly immigrant, Aboriginal and low socioeconomic, but also any families within a geographical catchment) in the comfort of their own homes, how to be their child's first teacher. Tricky is in the program this year because he's been asking me actual school questions lately and is trying to read (what?!) and I didn't know if I was teaching him properly or going against everything he was learning in kindy. So we enrolled in the program mainly for me to be confident that I could help him.

He loved it. I loved it. To be part of the staff on that program would be amazing. I attended the interview and I left feeling so bloody confident. I'd nailed it. Except for the bit where I said "Roleplay in interviews makes me feel like a dick". Classy, Glow, real classy.

My parents had agreed to look after Bobbin for a couple of hours at a time, but even then, with clients booking in all over the place, it wouldn't have been an easy schedule. My dad, the army dude, needs regimented schedule. My mum just needs to know when she can and can't go out for coffee. It was going to be hard, but they said they'd give it a go.

The next day I went to Tricky's kindy for a Mother's Day Morning Tea. I've never been one to cry at kindy; the idea of my kids growing up and gaining more and more independence doesn't make me sob, it makes me celebrate. No really, because if they're not growing up... yeah, the other alternative isn't so nice. So anyway, I'm sitting at Tricky's kindy and he's winking to me from the "stage" area as they were getting ready to sing us a song. The kid who never sings and never does the dances at school. Get him on a dancefloor and it's a different story, but in a bunch of kids, no go.

He sings. He dances. He waves at me and points directly at me when the lyrics say "I love you". I melt in to a giant puddle and come the closest to crying at kindy I ever have. I'm talking lump in my throat the size of a house. I was so damn proud of that kid, previously paralyzed by shyness and here he was SINGING and DANCING!

If I was working, I might miss out on these little things that are actually HUGE to both him and me. It got me thinking, and as I turned around to pick up Bobbin (who was making a beeline for the home corner), I realized I would be missing out on so much of her first year when I didn't have to. I had so much time with Tricks, and this year with him at school, Bobbin and I get to have one on one time together where she comes first and isn't just being stopped from eating Lego or being moved away from one of Tricky's creations.

She is a handful and then some, but geez, she's good value. She needs her mama. I need her.

On Tuesday, the company called me to offer me the position, and, on Wednesday I formally declined.

I've never turned down a job before. I've never been in the position to. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, wanting to please them and say yes. But the right thing for me, for my family, was to finally learn how to say no. I feel that if I go back to paid work right now that both of my kids would just miss out on so much, and since I'm in the very privileged position to not have to go back, I feel like it would be short changing them, particularly Bobbin.

I take my hat off to you paid-working mamas, and to the paid-working dads, I really do. I couldn't do it.

I just wanted one nice photo of them...

A job at Pixie Foto is not in my future and my respect for photographers has increased a further 100%.

Letter to Bobbin - eight months

Hey there smoosh face,

Happy eight months!

You managed to scare the bejeezus out of me last week when you choked on some food. You went red, tried to heave it up, had tears in your eyes and couldn't make a sound. I shoved your Dad out the way, unclipped your highchair buckle, held you on my forearm, tapped (OK, thumped) you on the back and out it popped. It was less than five seconds from beginning to end, but it felt like forever, particularly the whole unbuckling thing. I'm so glad I did the first aid refresher; it gave me the confidence to just do it. About an hour later, when my heart had stopped pounding and you were playing happily at my feet, I had a bit of a cry at how close we got to losing you.

You have TWO tiny little teeth after a whole six weeks of them being so close to the surface that if we took a pic of you with the flash they would shine through.

You are starting to get a little bit more in to food, but only slightly (put off by choking?). We were doing the whole baby led weaning thing with you because you're all "Ima hold that myself, yo", but you're not getting enough food in to you and though you haven't lost weight, you are not putting enough on.

So I've been making some yummy mush for you. No really, it's yummy, I tried it. You are not a fan. Most of the time you purse your lips tight as can be whenever I bring the spoon to you. "This is mush. I want what you have". We'll keep trying.

You've started crawling with one foot and one knee and we're wondering if you'll move to two feet crawling like your brother did. Last week you started cruising around furniture, so nothing is safe any more. Your brother's LEGO, previously out of reach on his table is now calling to you so we've put up a gate. Naturally, rocking on the gate is now your favourite pastime.

If you're wondering why I started this letter to "smoosh face", here's your answer:

This is your favourite face to pull and I love it to pieces, it's just so funny. You'll be great at selfies, just look at that duck face! I absolutely love how expressive you are, there is no guessing how you're feeling, you let us all know straight away.

Keep babbling away my little darlin', but if you could go back to being a good sleeper, that would be ace.

Love you to the moon and back, Mama xxx