Every year towards the end of August, I feel the dire need to organise, to sort myself out, mentally and physically. You see, September is my January. That time of year when I make some much-needed life adjustments/resolutions that simply work wonders for a highly-stressful individual such as myself who thrives on a rigid and specific routine. This year I’m thinking of implementing an afternoon one for Georgie. What do you think? Do your kids have after-school schedules?
One of the first things I noticed about Georgie when he first started school last year was his hesitation in telling me how his day was. I realised things had gone from bad to worse when the other day after an afternoon lesson he huffed and puffed and finally said: I don’t have to tell you everything! Let’s skip that in ten years a remark like that will probably scar me for life and go straight to the fact that it was obvious I was asking the wrong question.
There is a slight chance some will find this post offensive. I can only hope that is not the case. I am about to touch on the topic of cultures and religions, something I was sure would never be mentioned on the blog due to the obvious sensitivity of the matter. However, this piece is based on my own experiences and thoughts, as a mother and individual and something that happened to me recently. I am not here to tell you what you should or should not believe in. Far from it. I believe the world is beautiful due to the mixture that exists, more so in terms of culture than religion. It seems though, that my view is not shared by all, something I am completely aware of. Then there’s the matter of hate and extreme, which again I am aware of but do not and will never understand. When it hits too close to home, I cannot remain quiet anymore.
Monday, September 1. A day I had been dreading since we decided Georgie should attend pre-school. I kept mentioning to my friends and family how wonderfuly excited I am. It will be good for him, they would answer and I agreed. Still, having him by my side for three and a half years meant that separation anxiety was bound to rear its ugly head. It did and last week I fell into the deepest depression hole. I would burst into tears at least once a day and hold him a little longer every night before bedtime. He isn’t going anywhere, papa would say. He’s still your baby. But he’s wrong. And that’s the problem. He’s not a baby anymore.
Every afternoon- somewhere between dinner and Tom and Jerry- Georgie brings me one of his books and sits down on my lap for a read. I didn’t plan on teaching him this but i am very grateful it is something he loves to do. We are creating quite a little collection of cute books-some very baby ones and others I will save later for him- but my absolute favorite has to be Who’s Like Me? If your child loves animals – and what child doesn’t?- they will love this gorgeous colorful book with flaps to lift and learn about snakes and foxes. Also another aspect i love about this book- it has snakes and amphibians! Granted it may be for preschoolers and somewhat scientific but nothing can beat those beautiful retro illustrations.