Monthly Archives: September 2015

Who cares how far you ran?

Well, I do.  I am also quite interested in what you ate before you did it, what you thought while you were doing it, at what stage you wanted to die (hopefully this did occur at some point, and makes your run even more interesting to me), and how you plan to recover from it. I will even watch your rambling, self- congratulatory 15 minute youtube film about how you ran a marathon for the first time, if not with fascination, at least with attention.

So keep it coming!

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Respect

This is what I am starting to feel for my children as I watch them handling preschool. I watch them strategising, trying to find ways to make it easier, and I stop thinking of them as toddlers who might spoil my morning with their guilt-inducing screams. They are serious small people, dealing with a situation they don’t always find easy with all the ingenuity in their power. I give them a stuffed possum each and tell them that when they feel sad they can hug it (when the kitchen ladies see them, they say ‘ooooh, what lovely rats!’). I hear Maja repeating this to herself  in the mornings,  her little voice saying over and over again ‘when I sad, I gunna hug my possum’ as we approach the preschool. I see the triumph and elation in them after the first morning- it’s clear as day that they are relieved and proud of surviving. For the first week, Janek hugs Maja while she cries. The second week, Maja tackles Janek and wraps her arms around him while he heads for the door. They struggle with the concept of bravery (I no brave, Mummy. I cry) and can’t wait to report back if they avoid tears.

They are moving into their own world. It’s hard for me to find out exactly what happens there- they like to tell me that they have chocolate and cucumbers every day, which I’m pretty sure is fiction. Part of their life is now taking place without us, and I see that they are ready for it, and that I underestimated them.

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Ahh, preschool…………

The kids have been at preschool for a week. Nothing has been quite as bad as the first day (Marcin took them alone, and didn’t have anyone to share the guilt with)  but we leave every day with the wails echoing in our ears, feeling like the meanest bastards on earth. In this week, they seem to have grown up. After the first day, we are in the playground. Maja is complaining that a big boy is ruining her sand-bear that she is building. I tell him once to leave it alone, and afterwards say that it’s up to her. When I look up again, I see her standing there, arm over her sandbear, looking the destroyer square in the eye and saying Don’t TOUCH it. It’s MINE. Janek is standing beside her in solidarity.

Marcin sighs. They’ve lost their innocence, he says. We have been leaving them until lunchtime, and once again are being flooded with good advice- you have to get them at lunchtime for the first month, or they will be damaged forever- you should leave them for the whole day, or they will get used to half days and be pissed right off when the days extend…etc etc.

We are all getting used to it. We are getting used to being apart again, we are getting used to getting up early, we are getting used to going to bed at a respectable time. My going back to work has coincided with preschool in shocking way, so that after my time-rich August, I am suddenly back in a logistical whirl. Here’s hoping we accustom ourselves quickly.

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How to feel like the biggest traitor. Ever.

Take your kids to preschool. Leave them there.

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