weekend love

I must confess my laziness when it comes to teaching Big to ride her bike without training wheels. We've been saying for well over a year.. we better get rid of those training wheels! Yep. Wheels came off, hubby gave her a push, she yelled LET GO!, and away she went. Like, not even a wobble. Yep, should've done it a year ago. Middle gave it a go too, but he's a bit of a speed demon and still too busy looking at the scenery instead of where he's going.. I don't want to bust up that beautiful face just yet.

Way to rub salt into that lazy-arse parenting wound, my darling!! The joy on your face as you rode away from dad, was unforgettable.

Did you learn anything new this weekend?

Linking up with Em

the first day

I remember reading Jodi's account of the first day, when she said, 'To be honest it was easier than I expected. I only cried a few tears and they were, most definitely, happy ones.' And I couldn't agree more. A few tears escaped me once she had marched proudly into the prep building, without turning back. I let most of my emotion out the night before (which were really, mostly sad tears, that my baby girl was leaving my side and heading into the big wide world), after my parents had arrived and mum so eloquently stated 'you'll miss her so much!'. Thanks mum.

She has been waiting to go to school for a year. The entirety of last year was spent counting down the months until she would, really truly, be at school. ALL DAY. This notion of spending all day away from home was wonderful to her. The reality would seem not quite so shiny now that she has experienced how long all day actually is. And as a parent, a full day at school seems like such a steep learning curve. To go from kindy - playing, painting, drawing, demanding minimal focus and attention - to school - where it's ALL about listening and learning, and very little about playing. I know it is only time - time to get used to this new routine.

My parents flew down for the big event, and I am so, so glad they did. Ruby was so proud that she had her nanna and pa there with her on her first day as well. I wish I could show you the photos I took of her lining up and waving us goodbye before heading into class (lots of children, privacy, etc). The excitement so clear on her face, beaming smile, holding hands with her bestie. A sea of tiny children in their oversized uniforms and backpacks, waving energetically at their loved ones and blowing kisses, before taking their first steps on this lengthy journey of education. There was definitely a lump in my throat. I held it together until she was gone from sight.

I made her a little pocket heart to keep close, so that she knew if she was feeling overwhelmed by her big day, she could give it a squeeze and feel all our love and support for her. Later that afternoon she came to me and whispered in my ear, 'mum, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed at school today, so I went and got my heart out of my bag and when I held it, I felt much better'. Cue hot tears welling in eyes. Mum and I collected her, with bright orange roses in hand which she had been asking for every time we went to the shops, the whole week beforehand. She decorated cupcakes after school with nanna - something she had requested a week prior. Her day could not have been better.

She too, is doing wonderfully. Her teacher is lovely - young and vibrant with so much energy to share with her students. Every day she comes out of class smiling and happy, ready to share what happened throughout the day. Her school is very kind on the little ones, breaking them in slowly with just three short days in the first week, followed by four full time days for the remainder of February. We go full time early March. She has surprised me with her energy levels. There have been minimal meltdowns, and only one little nap, so all in all she's had a wonderful start. We've had a wonderful start.

If you've experienced the 'first day' for your small, were there happy tears? Milkshakes? Cupcakes?!

kindy boy

He's been waiting to go to kindy since Ruby started - over two years ago! Every drop off and pick up he would want to stay, often there would be tears because he couldn't. Only now, after the wait, he gets shafted because three year old kindy is being phased out in Victoria (not sure about other states?) and more hours are being allocated to four year old kindy. Fair enough, though Middle would disagree.

In the phasing out period, obviously three year old places have dwindled considerably and we missed out on a proper kindy spot for him. While we are calling it kindy, technically it's called a rostered playgroup, organised by a local kindergarten, run by an experienced kindergarten teacher, but not allocated an assistant - which means they must have four parent helpers every class, to enable to sessions to run with an acceptable adult/child ratio for unqualified helpers. A parent of each child must stay to assist four sessions per term. The catch? You cannot bring younger siblings with you - because it will throw out the adult/child ratio. Most awesome for those of us with more smalls and no support network to palm them off and look after them for a few hours. It's the best that was on offer to allow him a kindy-esque experience, and time to interact with similar aged children, without his siblings - which I believe is very important. We are lucky in that hubby's work hours are very flexible and we will be able to alternate with who helps out and who stays home with the Small.

Being his usual Mr Cool, not too much phases him. Starting kindy was no biggie. He was actually disappointed that I had to stay for the first session (they encouraged parents to stay to help with settling in). Since then, there is always discussion in the car on the way to kindy that I will, most certainly, NOT be staying. Okay kid - it's nice to feel loved!

He's doing wonderfully, as was expected. Something else that was also expected? Enjoying two mornings a week, for TWO WHOLE HOURS at a time, just my Small and me. This is both blissful and strange. I had no memory of what it felt like to care for only child. I feel a little sad for my kindy boy, that he didn't get to have me all to himself at all. Eliot arrived a week after Ruby began three year old kindy. Of course he knows no different, has no idea he missed anything at all. The middle child draws the short straw for a good handful of things..

big

We've had a big week so far. First day of kindy for one, followed by first day of school for another. My parents flew down for the big event. Living so far apart, they miss a lot. This was a milestone they were not prepared to miss. I am so glad they felt that way. I'm soaking up as much parent time as I can, and resting in the evenings to make up for the late nights of mama worry and last minute organisation that goes into preparing - both them and me - for those big first days. I'll be back later in the week to share more about their first days.

They've both done brilliantly.

today

I went to the races. The Melbourne Cup. Giddy up. I may have taken photos of myself in the poor excuse for a mirror on the back of the teeny tiny portaloo door.

More on that tomorrow (the actual races, not more shameless selfies). This is what I was doing on Cup day last year.

Did you back a winner?

for my mum

My sisters and I danced together for ten years. With each other, and against each other. We lived and breathed it, six days a week. I wouldn't dare guess the amount of hours my mum spent working on costumes, props and other guff.  How many trips she did backwards and forwards between home and dance. For many years we were all in different classes, with different class times. I can't believe she didn't throw a party when we all finally ended up in the same class. Just one drop off, one pick up. And then when I got my licence - no pick up or drop off! When Mum had to work weekends, Dad would take us away for eisteddfods. He wedged a broom handle from one side of the tarago roof, to the other. He would meticulously pack and hang all our costumes and necessities. He does everything meticulously. He couldn't see out of the rear window. He would sit in the auditorium day in, day out. He would always give constructive criticism. By then end, he was pretty good at knowing what was decent and what was rubbish, sometimes better than the judge. Some of my fondest memories of a teenage me, involved dancing. It taught me discipline and respect. It gave me confidence and friendship.

My tiny dancer has it in her blood. She's been dancing around since she could walk. She's nearing the end of her first year of dance class. I can't wait to see her on stage. It's a little early to see the discipline and respect, but I'm sure I'll see the confidence and friendship.

Thanks for letting us dance, mum. Thanks for the effort, the patience, the support, the driving. And thanks for being such a good judge, dad.