Just like thousands of other four-year-olds across the country, you started school this week Tom. You tackled this major life event in exactly the same way you have tackled everything you've experienced before - like it was no big deal. You took it in your stride like everything else that comes your way. I am always the one asking you if you are ok, hoping you still need me to do and help you with things I already know you can and will want to do yourself. I am the one who clings onto you tight a little bit longer when we cuddle or have to say goodbye to one another. I am the one who is scared to leave you and never wants to let you go. But go you must.
You had your uniform on at seven 'o' clock on that first morning and asked me over and over again when it was time to leave. You were so keen to get started. You weren't just ready to go to school on that morning; you had been ready for the months and months previous to that. We knew it, as did nursery. When we asked you if you were looking forward to school you replied "Yeah" nonchalantly, probably more than anything because that's what we wanted to hear. It wasn't that you weren't looking forward to school - you absolutely were, but everybody was making a big fuss about it and you just didn't see it as a big thing.
I have no idea where these four years have gone and it seems really cliched to say it but I don't. They just seem to have slipped away from us. I've feel so privileged to have spent most of that time with you - a year of maternity leave with you, a year of maternity leave with your sister and only working part-time has made this all possible. Don't get me wrong, I had days where I was counting down the hours until bedtime, days I wished I had gone back to work instead, days I felt so tired I could barely function and days I wished somebody else would look after you, just for a few hours to give me a break. You were VERY hard work sometimes, particularly as a tiny baby and then of course, as most children are, as a toddler.
Now more than ever there are still times when I look back and wish I could have given you more, devoted more of my time to raising you, to have been there full-time but it just wasn't possible. If I could have done, I absolutely would have. But I know I've done all I can to prepare you for your time at school. I know I've been there for you as much as I possibly could. I know we are so lucky to have spent that time together, just the two of us and form such an incredibly close bond. You made me a Mummy and taught me what it is to be a parent. I will always cherish those first few years of your life and I would never have missed them for the entire world. My only wish is that it would be possible to do them over and over again with you.
The day you first started school marked the beginning of a new, exciting chapter of our lives. It gives you an opportunity to develop on all the things we and nursery have taught you. It gives me an opportunity to raise your sister in the same way I have raised you, to spend quality time with her and help her learn and grow. It gives me an opportunity to get all the house jobs done, which will leave the weekends free for us to spend together. And boy I shall look forward to picking you up on Friday afternoon each week for each one to begin.
Tommy - you give me a reason to be proud every single day but that day I held your hand as we walked to school for the first time was my proudest moment yet. I'm not normally the kind of Mum who spouts off about how wonderful you are but the other day I wanted to shout it from the rooftops that "This is my little boy, today's his first day at school and he's going to be amazing!" When we got to your classroom, you must have said goodbye to me about ten times and then, when I hadn't taken the hint, said "Mum you can go now." A small part of me was gutted if I'm honest. Why didn't you need me? Why weren't you crying? Why weren't you clinging to my leg and not letting me leave like many of the other children were? Wasn't our bond as strong as that other parents had with their children? But the rest of me wanted to burst with pride. You didn't need me at that moment. You were mature enough and confident enough to go it alone. You were ready.
Our house has felt empty for the last few days because you are such a huge part of what makes it feel like a home. It feels like I've lost you to some extent and I'm struggling with it all. I haven't got much beyond moping and trying to keep myself occupied, even though my heart's not particularly in much at all. See I need you as much as you need me, Tom. I'm not used to being at home when you're not there and I'm struggling to adjust. Today, like most days, I shall be counting down the hours until I can walk back up to school to pick you up, you can tell me about your day and we can snuggle up with your reading book.
The day you first started school (although it wasn't to you) was a massive deal for us. We can't wait to see how it continues to shape the amazing little boy we've known and loved for the past four years. We will continue to be there through every single moment of it all with you, helping and encouraging you to do your best in everything you do.
