Your guide to starting “big school.”

School gets the best of my children. They’re cute in the morning. I mean yeah, we’re a normal family. I still say “put your shoes on” about fifty times and say “for fuck sake” under my breath. Some mornings I cry because I’m so fucking hungry and the small women in the house have miraculously become incompetent and I’m convinced I will either starve to death or end up in jail. But you know, they’re mostly cute. It’s the time of day they reach peak stability. 

All too soon they’re kissing me goodbye (Artemis) or forgetting I exist entirely (Bast). 

I miss them throughout the day. I wonder if they liked their lunch and if they are making friends. I look forward to pick up.

They run towards me, or sometimes stumble deliriously, and we have blissful hugs. Sometimes they show me what they made or which library book I will be tortured with this week.

Then it starts. The yelling. The fighting. The making each other cry. And oh the nagging!

Can we go to Aunty Swan’s? Can we have video games? Is dinner ready? They want to do all the things they can’t do at school. They all want one on one time, at the same time, while I make dinner and sing them a fucking song. 

Artemis cries at school because she misses Bast so much, Elen asks to go pick them up an hour early… Yet they all hate each other.

They have nothing left, and by bath time I don’t either. I do have about half an hour each evening where I can one on one, or craft, or take them to a park while the sun goes down, but I’m sick of them by the time they’ve eaten their dinner. In fact, I’m writing this blog on my phone, as I hide in my bedroom, halfway between crying and passing out exhausted. I’m miserable, and they don’t care. It’s not their job to care.

Arty just poured water into Bast’s dinner. Hey, maybe you should have eaten it forty five minutes ago when I served you? No? Elen just pointed her fork at Artemis. Oh, the horsemen are here to tell us about the apocalypse, you say?

And it’s the same every day for the first four to six months of school. Congratulations, you’re a kindy mum!

If five out of seven evenings being misery aren’t enough, school needs to take over your entire life. They will email you ‘til your phone blows up. There is always something you need to pay for, be on time for, organise, bake for, volunteer for, or be present for.

You need to remember when all the things happen. Is it Italian today? Assembly? Different pick up location? Different drop off? Late start? Send a dollar for gelato? Library day? Sport? What shoes are they supposed to be in? 

Homework started week three for Bast, and I think I gave that shit to the gods by term three. Hard fucking pass, mate. Even if the kids had energy and I had time, research hasn’t shown the benefit of homework for really young kids. They should be playing. Or making each other cry. You know?

And the birthdays, mate. The birthdays! In kindergarten it’s customary to invite the entire class to your kid’s party. There are twenty odd children in each class. Expect a party every other weekend, maybe two.

Yeah, you can opt out, but then you’ve got the kid who is at a disadvantage to all the others. You’re responsible for putting them on the out. No thank you. My kids love the parties, and I love that they aren’t socially awkward like their mother.

So stock up in the after Christmas sale. Snatch up some toys if you see them on clearance. You can thank my sister for this tip later.

On the topic of parties, it’s not just kid parties. There are raffle nights, garden parties, drinks at the pub with the other class parents… And I’m not even on the P & C! My respect goes out to those champions.

Some of it is great. Some of it’s made of stress and tears. And all of it is overwhelming. But forewarned is forearmed, as my mum used to say. (I’d prefer four arms, but that apparently isn’t an option.)

As daunting as it is, you’re not alone. The other parents are crying too, caught between elation, pride and the end of an era for their little person. We’re all there wondering why we need three different school-related apps on our phones. You might just luck out and make new friends in the process.

What I can tell you, as a second-year kindy mum, is that it gets better. The adjustment phase is long and crushing, but it does end. Statistically there has to be at least one other cool mum in your class that you will bond with. You’ll find a new routine, and if your kids are anything like mine, they’ll start going to bed earlier, which is basically a holiday in itself.

Buy tissues. Hang on to your knickers. We’ve got this!

I’d love to hear your tips for getting through the afternoons down in the comments, and if you enjoyed this post please give it a share to help me reach more people like you.

Miriam xx