If you follow me on social media, you may have seen my post last night. I attended a meeting for parents of children starting primary school in September.
I had planned the night down to a tee.
I preened for much longer than I usually do. Straightened my hair, did a full face of ‘looking like I wasn’t trying’ make up. Bought a new top (I know) and wore heels. HEELS on a Thursday night.
You see, Boo already goes to the nursery next to the school and I’ve seen the other mums. I’ve seen them.
They wear (nude patent) heels that are so high, I’d look like a man in drag trying to walk in them.
They look completely perfect at 8.50am with manicured coral nails and tans that come from four holidays a year rather than a
Fake Bake Avon bottle.
So i looked ok for the meeting. Considering Boo had been off sick from nursery and I have a baby. I got away with it.
Swanned into the hall, sat with my glass of champers (yes, really) and nodded along with the head teacher and the ethos of the school.
I felt like it was my first day at school and I had to impress the parents who would be hanging around until Boo is 11.
Then the reception teacher got up. Absolutely lovely, lovely lady. She started talking about how she knew how we feel and that she focuses on child-centred learning. She continued saying it didn’t matter what stage our children were at, they would all be treated as individuals
Well, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears were streaming down my face. My baby is going to school.
Yes I know I’ve got Baby G and, that for most people, that would ease the blow but for me it just doesn’t. I can’t believe where the last four years have gone.
The upshot of the meeting that I tried so hard to use to impress the other parents, resulted in them thinking I was a nutter.
However something good did come out of it.
The woman who hasn’t taken Baby G to any baby classes for fear of being sucked into a mummy cliques again has realised that it doesn’t matter whether I’ve got nude patent shoes (I did buy some by the way to fit in) or not. This is Boo’s journey and her first steps into her long journey of education, not mine.
Who cares if the perfect women notice my chipped nail varnish?
I am however planning my outfit already for the first day of term. The kids have it so easy in uniform…