has been one of those days. Those days where you are glad there is a little age and hindsight under your belt that you don’t do or say those things every impulse gland in your body is telling you to do.
How emotional I am about going back to work and Jasper going to daycare three days a week has caught me by surprise. Goodness knows why as I think it’s pretty bloody obvious to the entire universe I’m a pretty emotional person at the best of times. There are so many reasons for it, but I think the biggest one is that I feel I have finally nailed that mothering, parenting thing with this little guy.That I can read his signals, that I know him so very well is truly the most empowering emotion I’ve ever experienced. It craps all over the actual birthing ‘thing’. But much happened in the years before his arrival which all served to confirm I need to be a working parent (as in a salary-paid working parent as quite frankly what primary carer isn’t a working parent??). I stayed at home with the first two, occasionally working on various projects but really being a stay-at-home mum. I don’t really feel like covering that old ground as it was a treacherous, exhausting climb at the time and not one I need to rehash for you all to see just how ugly it got. Let’s just say there is my suicide tree on Wakehurst Parkway that acts as my almost daily marker as to just how dark my days got in that role. Would it be different this time around? Absolutely. How can I be sure? I just know. But then there is the reality of a fulfilling job I truly love, in an organisation of quite a few opportunities for me down the track. Above all that is the reality of living in Sydney and neither of us being a barrister, futures trader or plastic surgeon. If the boys are to be clothed, fed and indulged in swimming lessons, tennis and soccer, there must be two substantial incomes. Anyway, I know that everyone out there has their opinion about working/staying-at-home and at this point in time I will say thank you for keeping it to yourself.
Mind you, the magnitude of today’s fall-apart, triggered by the gorgeous Jasper having his first cold after three not-even-full days at daycare still caught me by surprise.
There is another issue running its own course as well at the moment, which is also contributing to my raw emotional state. And that is Oscar’s schooling. After a very average year last year in a support class and reading lots of literature and talking to many people who work in the area of special needs education and employment, I was determined for him to be in a mainstream setting and offered the same opportunities and experiences of his peers. It is such early days but I am already questioning if it was the right decision.
Nothing, I say nothing makes you question your capacity and role as a parent as when you have to make these sorts of decisions on behalf of your child. Special needs or not. Bec is an old hand at this as well. I can almost feel her nodding from here.
His teacher said to me this morning that it’s going to get a lot harder as the workload picks up. There is a 10 day (t.e.n.) swimming program starting next week and they are – naturally – trying to work out how best to accomodate Oscar and well, make it work.
Eugh. I just feel so defensive. I immediately felt like saying to his teacher, “just tell me if it’s not working. Don’t skirt around it. OH GOD it’s a miserable failure isn’t it”. As if I want it to be.
You see, there’s a mild special needs support class at the school. Oscar would easily fit in that class and they need to boost its numbers. It would be so easy to simply put Oscar there and be done with it. The class hangs as a cohort so he wouldn’t be hanging on his own in the playground (forget KLAs and learning anything, this is my biggest fear. My child, alone, in a sea of kids happily playing with each other) and there’d be no need for meetings, discussions, funding applications, meetings, discussions blah blah blah.
I know, it’s early days. I know, give it time. But as I fell apart in front of him in the car coming home, telling him how much I loved him and was trying to make the right decisions for him, Oscar fell apart too. (What did I expect from my highly empathetic OggaBoy?) Do you like your new class? No. Is the work really hard? Yes. Have you made any friends? NOOoooo. Both of us wailing as we cruised Pittwater Road.
So today was not really a good day, except for dinner which was magic. I’m feeling so anxious about basically every facet of my/our life at the moment and while I can see the road ahead and rationalise each and every issue out, that vice like grip around my head and heart is pretty darn hard to break.
So this weeks show and tell was about something close up.
I guess you got my day. Up close.