What a Difference 365 Makes

Yesterday Eli had his very first visit to Nursery School.

As we spent our hour there playing in very familiar surroundings (due to the fact that we drop Thomas off there every afternoon) I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to the same experience a year ago when I was doing the exact same thing with Thomas. (Though mercifully back then it was about 10 degrees cooler and I wasn't incubating what feels like a litter of puppies).

A year ago I was full of apprehension about my firstborn growing up too quickly.

This year I can't help thinking, Roll on September!

Last year I decided to send Thomas in the afternoons so that we could all enjoy lazy mornings in our PJ's together.

This year I realised that with 2 boys under 5 lazy mornings simply just don't exist so Eli will be headed to school at 8:40 with his brother every day and I'll have lazy mornings by myself (new baby permitting).

Last year Thomas cried for 30 minutes after leaving his visit to Nursery he was so enamoured.

This year, all year, Eli has cried and had to be wrestled out of nursery when we drop Thomas off on an almost daily basis. I feel ready for that particular brand of humiliation to end. 11 days to go and counting.

While Eli and I were visiting Thomas's teacher came over to tell me that she's thrilled to be getting Eli because it'll make it easier to say bye to Thomas. She expressed that it'd be like having Thomas still there.

A lovely sentiment.

But Eli isn't a bit like Thomas.

The main contrast?

Last year I remember being really concerned that Thomas would injure himself playing with their real grown up woodworking tools.

This year I'm far more concerned that Eli will bludgeon someone other than himself.

Deliciously Devious

Here in the blessed British Isles there is no expectation at Christmas time to buy gifts for teachers.

There is none of that 'room mother' malarkey either.

In fact teachers are to consider themselves honoured if they receive a Christmas Card from a parent. Mostly they get nothing. Us Brits are nothing if we aren't stingy.

Here you take your kids to school leave them there and stay away.

Returning only to collect your kids or dutifully attend concerts and other presentations when permitted.

I am perfectly happy with this arrangement.

But at Christmas I go the extra mile, I want to make a good impression.

I want to let the teachers know I appreciate them both educating my kids and taking them off my hands several hours each week.

So again this year in a bid to make an everlasting impression I baked (if you can call stirring and chilling baking because really that is all the effort required).

I baked Banoffee pie, crisp chocolate biscuit crumb base, filled with dense swirled caramel and melted Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate, topped with banana and finally whipped cream.

Delicious!

Why make the effort if it isn't even expected?

It's all about being teachers pet.

And when I say that I'm not talking about the kids I am simply talking about me!

From the tears in Thomas' teachers eyes I'd say Mission Accomplished.

The Grino Goes to School

Remember not so long ago I was harping on about Thomas starting nursery and not feeling ready for that stage?

Well I really need to clarify, it wasn't the thought of him being gone 12.5 hours a week (I was excited about that for both of us I assure you) that pulled on my heart strings it was the fact that he is getting bigger and more independent all the time and I just simply can't keep up.

For goodness sake he was just born and he is already 3 and next time I blink he'll no doubt be fully grown and leaving home (see how I completely bypassed the teenage years there? Yep, I am in denial and we're 9 years away). Time betrays me every day by going too quickly.

Two weeks in he adores Nursery School but every day I collect him he seems just a little bit smarter and a tiny bit bigger. I have to admit though the last two weeks I have revelled in the wisdom of my decision making skills by choosing to send him in the afternoons. We have happily idled away our mornings waking at 8:30, breakfasting at leisure and dressing sometime before noon. It has also been lovely to have quality time with Eli every single day.

I have been feeling like life is pretty much perfect.

Then on Thursday I got the most terrific phone message ever. It was Thomas's old playgroup calling to say that they had Eli on their waiting list to start in January (the next term after he turns 2.5) but because they're familiar with him and he is used to the environment would I like to start him a little bit earlier, like on Monday????

YES I REALLY REALLY WOULD!!

I was so excited by the prospect I had to listen to the message 4 times to get her number to call her back. I returned her call and made sure she knew that he wasn't potty trained (and I have no intentions of attempting him being so) and that he wasn't 2.5 yet. She knew both things and they were still happy to take him. Hooray!

So on Monday and Wednesday he will be attending playgroup. I am thrilled for him and even more so for myself.

Back when I made the slothful decision to send Thomas in the afternoons I knew when Eli started playgroup in January he would be going in the mornings.

You know what that means? It means I could have had 6 beautiful hours to myself, every single week. But in some obvious attempt to win some Mother of the year contest I actually decided to put the kids before myself (could I be more motherly?) and have them go at alternate times so I could have quality time with one while the other was busy at school/playgroup. That has to be award worthy, seriously.

I was elated at the prospect of him being a big boy and attending playgroup right up until I climbed into bed on Thursday night. I lay there waiting for sleep to come and my head filled with thoughts.

What if it turns out like that time I helped out and took Eli along?

What if he bites someone? (Always a possibility where Eli is concerned.)

What if he is just too young?

What if creates poop art there?

What if they discover his double butt and think he's a bit odd?

Eli is my baby. He may well be 2 and 4 months but he is my baby.

He is our youngest and he is starting playgroup and becoming independent.

I had my babies close together and every day felt 47 hours long and it felt like they would be babies forever. But now neither of them are babies.

I felt sad.

I knew the day was coming but January seemed so far away and so much more manageable.

Think of me because tomorrow (slightly reluctantly) I become the mother of two big boys.

Beating the Teacher

Thomas officially starts Nursery School (which is essentially just preschool but attached to an actual school) next Tuesday. I am extremely excited for both him and myself. At his nursery school prior to starting you have a few visits to the school to familiarise your child with the new environment and then right before they actually start the teacher kindly comes to your house to bond with the child on their territory.

Nice, right?

Well I just don't buy it. The real reason they come (though they would never of course admit it)? To totally check us out. They will learn more about our family dynamic from 5 minutes in our house than they would in a whole year of drop off's and pick up's in the classroom. But to be fair she could have just saved herself an unnecessary trip and simply googled me instead. I'm sure my Bad Parenting Chronicles would answer many a question as to what kind of parent I really am.

We are SO not morning people in this household so you can imagine how utterly thrilled I was to get our letter informing us that Thomas' teacher would be visiting us at 9:45am. I started preparing days in advance, cleaning my house, tackling the laundry pile, putting all the jigsaw pieces in the correct boxes like my life depended on it.

But still I was at a major disadvantage. Kids dressed, fed and clean and the house repaired and beautified from the destruction wrought upon it by the kids since waking time all by 9:45? Impossible.

Panic really set in when Rob's cousins wife called to ask me to follow her to a garage to drop her car off while it got fixed and take her home again. Understandably she didn't want to sit all day at some stinky garage with her 2 month old baby. So I of course agreed (semi-reluctantly) and hoped beyond hope that if we set off early enough, 8:45, I could make it there and back in plenty of time to meet the teacher.

I had no clue where the garage was or even how far away it was. I had visions of missing our appointment and being forever branded that mother who didn't even care enough about her child's education to stay in and meet the teacher.

I also had a fear growing within me that my exhaust could fall off at any moment. I had recently had part of the exhaust repaired due to a rusty hole that pretty much made me sound like a rally driver wherever I went and the mechanic said everything else looked pretty sound. But when my car had to go to another garage for another reason (this happens apparently when your car is 10 years old) that mechanic told me that my exhaust could fall off at any given minute. I got the impression he was just attempting to scam me because, well, I'm a woman who knows, erm, zero about cars. So now whenever I go anywhere I live in total dread of leaving the exhaust somewhere on the road behind me.

But lo and behold we managed to be dressed, fed, clean and the house looking as presentable as a house that has two little boys dwelling within in will ever look all by 8:45. (Mostly I concede due to the fact that Eli horrifically woke us up at 6:45 requesting Lightning McQueen.) I did get Katie to the garage and home again. Even better I did manage to achieve all of those things with the exhaust firmly attached to my car and I did make it home by 9:30.

Thomas has been eagerly anticipating Miss Hoult's visit all week long. Though he insists on calling her Mrs Fault. This is becoming a bit of a problem for me because when I have to address her I can never actually remember which is her actual name. I sense at some point I am going to call her the wrong name and no amount of explanation is going to convince her of my sanity.

At 9:55 she still hadn't arrived. Thomas could hardly contain his excitement and had his face and hands firmly pressed to the window (that I had laboriously cleaned of all hand prints and saliva previously) seeking a glimpse of his teachers car.

She did eventually arrive and we had a really splendid visit. Well, right up to the point where Thomas said "Mrs Fault come see my bedroom my mum just cleaned it all up" so that shattered the illusion that I worked so hard to project that we dwell in a house of harmony and orderliness.

I feel sure we made a wonderful first impression.

But tomorrow is another day.

Moving On

Thomas has just finished his last ever day at playgroup.

Back in September when he started it felt like he'd be there forever, it flew by in the blink of an eye.

My baby is growing up!

I'm SO not ready.

From September he'll be going to Nursery School five afternoons a week. The sloth in me got a bit caught up in the decision making between morning or afternoon sessions. I opted for afternoon knowing that all Winter long we could fully indulge in lazy mornings in our PJ's. Besides I dread to think what unearthly hour we'd have to arise if I was expected to get all three of us dressed, fed and delivered to the school gates promptly by 9am. (I feel exhausted just thinking about it, particularly because the school is a uphill walk!)

He just doesn't seem old enough to be away from me several hours of every day. Of course when we went to visit his new classroom and teacher he was so taken by the whole 'school' deal and the fact that they had computers and real tools just like daddy (yeah real hammers, nails and saws for 3 & 4 year old's to 'play' with, his teacher assured me nobody has been mutilated to date) that he cried hysterically for 30 minutes when it was time to leave, all the way to the car, all the way home and for about ten minutes on his dad's knee. That boy can cry loud, especially in public! (Obviously that made me feel SO appreciated!)

Yep, the only other kids to cry were the one's who actually didn't want to go in at all (which has generally been the norm with Thomas and new environments) but my child simply didn't want to leave, ever.

Well, at least I know he'll be happy there.

And hopefully not seriously maimed!

Letterland

I have been a very busy bee indeed attempting to teach Thomas the alphabet (sadly we don't have Sesame Street to provide that service here!) with the Letterland method. Letterland is a most lovely place (in case you didn't know) where all the Letterlanders live in scenes where everything begins with their letter. They don't get lonely though (worry not!) because all the other Letterlanders freely come to visit. To the left you'll notice Clever Cat and Bouncy Ben. My personal favourites are Harry Hat Man and Yellow Yo-Yo Man, but that's just me! He took to it really quickly and can identify the letters now without their characters.

Letterland has a phonetics approach so he's learning the sounds that each of these characters make. Bouncy Ben's sound is 'buh' for example not 'bee' this helps them learn to read later on by piecing the letter sounds together. Easy, right?

All would be well if it wasn't for the troublesome characters Eddy Elephant, Clever Cat, and Dippy Duck. Without fail when I ask what their sounds are I get a miaow, a quack and an elephant noise (no clue whatsoever how to type that!). He won't have it any other way no matter how much I insist or try to explain otherwise. The dear boy looks at me like I need institutionalising when I attempt to explain that although ducks do quack Dippy Duck just says 'duh'.

So for the next year we'll be working on this so he doesn't start school thinking quack, miaow and elephant noise are legitimate alphabet sounds, or else we'll both just look a bit crazy!

What's in a Name?

Late last year I was driving somewhere with the kids I cannot recall the destination. Thomas sits in the front passenger seat and so he and I chat happily wherever we go. Anyhow this particular day he was confused as to how he had 2 Grandad's. So I tried to differentiate by using surnames. I explained he had Grandad Siswick and Grandad Fred (which isn't his surname at all but his first name) he seemed intrigued by this so I thought I'd take advantage and turn it into a special teaching moment about names.

I decided to do the Siswick side because frankly there are a gazillion of them so it made the task easier and provided consistency. I explained that Grandma's name is Grandma Siswick, Aunt Emma's name is Emma Siswick, Uncle Tom's name is Thomas Siswick (which you'd imagine would be a total giveaway). Anyhow I went through all the family members that have Siswick as a surname. Considering Rob's dad is one of 8 Siswicks and Rob is one of 6 you can imagine this was a lengthy task but I was dedicated to teaching my 2 year old about names so I didn't mind. I finished up with Mummy, Daddy and Eli Siswick.

The conversation ended like this:

Me: "Do you know what your name is?"

Thomas: "Yes!"

Me: "Clever boy Thomas, do you want to tell me?" (At this point bursting with glee that we'd just had a wonderful learning experience)

Thomas "OK"

Me: "Go on then, what's your name?"

Thomas: "Thomas.............the tank engine"

Clearly 10 minutes of explaining names can't compete with Thomas the tank engine. Thankfully now a few months on he knows he is Thomas Siswick, but when you ask him where he lives he simply replies "At my house!" despite numerous attempts to teach him our address. Oh well I guess he'll have grasped it in 3 months when I'm trying ot teach him something else.