WHEN my four-year-old daughter showed me the pens and pencil case her older sister had given her for her first day at school, she was both proud and delighted. I welled up. A few minutes later, her even older sister showed me her new school bag, packed and ready to go, and uniform laid out in preparation for her first day at secondary school. I had to stop myself from bursting into tears.
In the last few weeks, I have done everything to get them (and their sister and brother) ready for school. We've spent hours shopping for shoes, bags, uniforms and all the other items needed to make the big day go smoothly. I haven't packed bags (a
four-year-old doesn't need anything and a girl of nearly 12 can pack her own). Mind, I wouldn't have been able to face it. The idea of them both being fully ensconced in their respective schools was too much to think about.
I spent summer dreading the first day of school. Now I'm looking forward to having more time to myself and have things plan-ned. For 12 years my time has been dominated by small children and I'm ready for a break – as are the kids. This is how things should be, it's perfectly healthy. So why does it all feel so hard?
Like most mums, my kids are my world, but we all need a more rounded existence. I believe that to have a good, healthy parent/child relationship you need a life away from your kids. I don't want mine to grow up thinking that being a parent is all about sacrifice and having nothing else other than them to focus on. I want to be seen as someone with an interesting and fulfilling life and as much as I love my kids, this means more than just being with them. I intend to spend the next few months catching up on the things I have sacrificed for the sake of my kids, like walking in the country, visiting art galleries, having interruption-free meals and spending quality time with friends. First, I have to get my head around the fact that there's a big hole in my life.
The first day at primary and the first day at secondary are both huge milestones, always a worrying time for parents. Our children enter the sausage- machine of life – we feed them in and watch them come out of the other end as fully-conforming members of society (hopefully). When I see all the tiny Primary 1s lined up in their uniforms, a big part of me thinks they look gorgeous, but an even bigger part thinks that this is them being fed into the system. We send them off, have little say in what happens and collect them six hours later, no questions asked.
Schools may not be cold and sinister institutions that take away a child's identity, but it is the first time in their lives that they have to do what people outside their family want them to.
High school scares me. All those people, all the things you have to do and I feel I have no idea what's happening. I've lost my wonderful daughter to a world that's nothing to do with me.
I don't pass these mad rants on to my children. My youngest is absolutely delighted to be a big, grown-up girl, and desperate to learn to read her own books. She is so excited by the prospect of school, and on her first day went to do a puzzle with her friend and hardly gave me a backward glance. A quick kiss and "see you later" was all dad, grandma and I received. No tears, no fuss.
I know both girls will be fine. I will be too, but that may take a wee bit longer.
• Gaynor Allen is a freelance writer and a mother-of-four.
The full article contains 679 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
