Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).

14 September 2016

All Change! Back to School You Go (Not Me, You)...

First day back at school.
And the parents gather in the playground to compare notes.
It's quite strange.

There's those you see regularly.
So it's a word up, ya dizzle ma fizzle, how's your wang to the teachers.
Then there's those you like but somehow you didn't see them at all for the entire six weeks of holidays. The nearly mates.
Still. That's just life. Having three kids and big families doesn't really help you spend lots of time making mates. It's still lovely to see them.
I compare notes with a fella Dad. OtherDad.
We discuss the children's feelings and their highs and lows of the holidays, what they achieved, what their worries and aspirations were, and what we would do better next time.

Good summer?
OtherDad: 'Yup, you?'
Yup... <Long pause> <Thinking going on>
Get up to much?
OtherDad: 'Yup. Knakcered, I need a holiday to recover...'
Hahaha yeah... me too...
... <Long pause>
<Really long pause>

I jest.
A bit. OtherDad mentions they had been potty training. And it hadn't gone great.
I see... <Gulps> No wonder you had to move...
OtherDad: <Nods>
I mention that we have been doing the same with BabyBoy2. (I say we, but I mean Mrs. Amazing, I was essentially the work-sub).
Some successes, some failures. It's a bit yukky and tiring. But we're marching on and getting through this difficult time. He reminds me he has twins. Double potty training.
He has my sympathies.

I imagine having twins is like being attacked by a 400ft lizard monster, with claws that can slice through concrete. And you've twisted your ankle. And your Monster-Get-Away gattling gun has just run out of C size batteries.
And there are never, NEVER, any sodding size C batteries spare when want some.
OtherDad's got two 400ft lizard monsters to deal with. #PerfectMetafour.
He has my double sympathies and I may stand down wind of him.

(The dude on the left is called Michael (Jellyfish Warrior), the lass on the right, who helps during the week at the primary school is called Sandra (Goo Fish). Both enjoy cribbage)

Boy9 is in a new class.
Again the school has mixed all the kids in the year up. And scattered friendships asunder (great word).
Boy9: 'What was that noise?'
Looks like a storm brewing... Possibly it was some asunder...
Boy9: '... Oh... HANG ON! MUM! MUM!'
Boy9: 'Dad's miss-teaching me English again'

Boy9 is pleased with some of his new classmates.
As they are old friends. Some friends are coming with him into his class. So happy days.
He's not just being showed into a new room on his own.
However there are quite a few friends that are not moving with him.
And that's hard on my little, but actually quite big, dude. He had a great little group of mates. There were boys and girls. It was a good gang. He was happy.
But no. MIX THEM ALL UP TIME from the school.
School: 'No talking'
I'm not cross about it. Really it's fine.
I understand what the school are doing and why. So the kids get better at making friends and less cliques grow (I assume).
But still.
It doesn't make it easier.

More excitingly though (as if that wasn't enough).
Boy9 gets his first male teacher. This will be the first time Boy9 is going to be taught by someone that knows and understands the mysterious and frankly quite daft (sometimes) world and language of men (as in males, not the species, but then that was obv... I'll shut up...).
I am purposely going to avoid saying anything sexist about how this man will teach, as I've not met him.
Which leaves me little to say.
... <Whistles> <Kicks stone> <Scratches car> <Runs>

There is one thing.
That I think I can say one thing without too much fear of being sexist. And it's based on the physical differences between the male and female voice. As men tend to have deeper voices than women (Obv. not all, the lady behind the bar at my local could give James Earl Jones a run for his money...).
So I imagine that when the first child gets told off in Boy9's new class. All eyes will be wide and watching as a voice a few octaves lower than they were expecting growls sounds out in the deep classroom.

(Weirdly he really looks a lot like my primary school head master...)

And it's good that Boy9 now has another male authority figure in his life.
I may come off as a bit nicer!

That girl is ready for school like cake wants a knife in it, and cream on the side, and ice cream.
And more cake, come on! are you scared you're gonna run out!
<Takes cake>
And fair play to Miss5. All her mates are at school.
And there's other adults that haven't heard her stories a billion times.
And there's sticking and cutting and drawing. Her favourites.
And most important. Miss5 gets to be Miss5 all on her own again.
Home and family are very important to her. She loves us dearly. Mainly Mrs. Amazing to be honest. I probably feature just above her third favourite teddy, but hey, that's still my P.B.
But at school. It's just Miss5 Miss5-ing about the place.
She gets to be independant, make her own choices. With no siblings, or parents, getting all up in her grill.
Happy on your own school times.

Miss5's school have new drop off rules (Year 1 and all that).
I wasn't a fan. Parents are not allowed into the classroom to nose.
Parents are not allowed to drop off at the door.
No hanging about and wailing fussing.
So whilst I was hoping to hug her to bits and then sit in class with her until lunch and then wave her goodbye for at least five minutes. Instead Miss5 showed me her new playground and where her new classroom was.
Then she was gone. Swallowed into her new classroom for the day.
I felt a bit cheated.
I would have liked a receipt at least.
I definitely could have done with at least another ten hugs.

My lovely little boy went to nursery for the first time.
He was dressed in his very smart (about 90th handme down) nursery uniform and off he toddled with Mrs. Amazing to nursery.
He was fine and had a lovely morning.
There was potty successes and sadly (but we didn't have to handle it, HAHA!) an expected poo mistake.
But that's pretty damn good considering he's only been potty training for a week or so (messy, messy weeks).
But most importantly enjoyed his day.
BabyBoy2 met Team Parent (yay!) with a mixture of tears and joy. So happy to see us. But overwhelmed with emotion and relief that we came back. Hella cute.
He was pretty brave about everything I thought.
I on the other had something in both of my eyes and something sticking in my throat (welding fumes probably) when we picked BabyBoy2 up at lunch.

And Mrs. Amazing?
Well Mrs. Amazing had four hours to herself this morning.
Four whole hours of no kids all up in her grill. Poking and prodding her.
In our house. At home. Oooooo...
I've never seen someone so drunk.
She spent her valuable time drawing up a plan for how on earth we are going to get each child to each school/nursery and back again each day.
It's flipping complex.

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Er… It’s lovely. But how does that help with the school runs?’
Oh it helps… It helps… <Nods Bay leafly>
Mrs. Amazing: ‘... But how?’

I was consulted as a sanity tester...

You've come to me for sanity?
Mrs. Amazing: <Nods>
Are you mad?
Mrs. Amazing: 'Probably. Now put that light sabre down, put the chocolate back and come help me'
<Keeps the chocolate>
Mrs. Amazing: <Shows me the plans> 'What do you think?'
I'm not sure... <Munches> Take me back to section Tuesday, Child 2, morning through to evening… Where am I in that?
Mrs. Amazing: 'You do this drop off. Then work. Then home'
I see. And you?
Mrs. Amazing: 'Here. Here. Rush to here. Defy the laws of physics here, and materialise here, with fourteen thousand children in tow...'
Gotcha. And good luck with that.
Mrs. Amazing: 'Thanks'
And... Er... May I ask what the Cat is doing whilst all this is going on?
Mrs. Amazing: '... er... Nothing!' <To rhyme with durh>
Nothing? <Outraged> Then what day is he doing stuff then?
Mrs. Amazing: 'NONE! HE IS A CAT! SHEESH!'
Mrs. Amazing: 'Every year! The same stupid argument!' <Arms up>
Mrs. Amazing: 'HE IS A TOY CAT!' <Leaves shaking head>
<Whispers> Yeah... A bloody lazy Cat...
<Cat grins, farts, goes back to sleep>