Are you ready for this? I’m not ready for this.
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This week is a week of lasts, because the time has come for nursery to end – or nursery work as we call it; mummy goes to work, daddy goes to work, Z goes to . . .
I was devastated when he started nursery. They had to bring me hot sweet tea to help calm me down and that was for the settling-in session. Oh dear. It was the sight of his name tag next to his little coat peg that tipped me over the edge. Oh, that and the idea of handing my baby my baby over to another woman whilst I went off to work. That’s not to say I don’t love my work because I
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do, but still. MY BABY.
And now, just like that, it’s over. And I feel really sad. I’m not good with change, and as next steps go, this is more of a leap. He loves nursery and they love him. It’s been part of our lives since he was one and so yes, saying goodbye is difficult.
You know what else is difficult? When one of the staff innocently says ‘Yes, it is a big change isn’t it, going to school, that’s when you start to lose them isn’t it?’
Errrrrrmmmm, what? You can’t casually say that to a mother who cries at the drop of a
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hat (or the sight of a coat peg) before turning away to tell two boys to put those space hoppers down NOW or there will be trouble.
It stung. And I think she could sense it because then she said ‘Well maybe not primary school. But secondary school . . .’ Oh, stop, I can’t think about that yet.
It seems we can’t win – sad when it’s time to send them into childcare, sad when it ends. Today at pick-up the tears began as I arrived but I held it together. I’ve warned them this probably won’t be the case on his final day next Monday, but
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I hope I can remain composed enough to hug and thank them from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for taking my precious boy into your care. Thank you for hugging and reassuring him when he cried as I left, weighed down by The Guilt. Thank you for feeding him and reading to him and teaching him to write his letters. Thank you for making him laugh and encouraging him and for making him feel safe and looked after. Thank you for everything.
I might not be ready for this, but he most certainly is. School beckons.
And on we go.
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SARAH TOPPING - 2 Aug 17
This week is a week of lasts, because the time has come for nursery to end – or nursery work as we call it; mummy goes to work, daddy goes to work, Z goes to . . .
I was devastated when he started nursery. They had to bring me hot sweet tea to help calm me down and that was for the settling-in session. Oh dear. It was the sight of his name tag next to his little coat peg that tipped me over the edge. Oh, that and the idea of handing my baby my baby over to another woman whilst I went off to work. That’s not to say I don’t love my work because I do, but still. MY BABY.
And now, just like that, it’s over. And I feel really sad. I’m not good with change, and as next steps go, this is more of a leap. He loves nursery and they love him. It’s been part of our lives since he was one and so yes, saying goodbye is difficult.
You know what else is difficult? When one of the staff innocently says ‘Yes, it is a big change isn’t it, going to school, that’s when you start to lose them isn’t it?’
Errrrrrmmmm, what? You can’t casually say that to a mother who cries at the drop of a hat (or the sight of a coat peg) before turning away to tell two boys to put those space hoppers down NOW or there will be trouble.
It stung. And I think she could sense it because then she said ‘Well maybe not primary school. But secondary school . . .’ Oh, stop, I can’t think about that yet.
It seems we can’t win – sad when it’s time to send them into childcare, sad when it ends. Today at pick-up the tears began as I arrived but I held it together. I’ve warned them this probably won’t be the case on his final day next Monday, but I hope I can remain composed enough to hug and thank them from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for taking my precious boy into your care. Thank you for hugging and reassuring him when he cried as I left, weighed down by The Guilt. Thank you for feeding him and reading to him and teaching him to write his letters. Thank you for making him laugh and encouraging him and for making him feel safe and looked after. Thank you for everything.
I might not be ready for this, but he most certainly is. School beckons.
And on we go.
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Sarah Topping is a freelance creative copywriter at Playing with Words and former copywriter at Penguin Children's. Her clients include Pottermore from J.K. Rowling, Enid Blyton Entertainment, BBC Worldwide, Puffin Books and World Book Day. Sarah lives in London with her husband Adam and their sons Zachary and Jonah, who rock (and rule) their world.
In between freelancing, she writes children’s stories and blogs about motherhood in all its guises, from the magic and joy to the potty training, tantrums and tripping over toys (pass the wine!).
@SarahTopping3
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