I took the Efling to enrol in big school today. A big school with lots of students, imposing 80 year old brick buildings and children milling around everywhere berobed in royal blue. Children smaller than my Elfling chatting amongst themselves confidently, squealing with the joy of being a child.
The school has a nice feel about it and the Elfling seems excited about being a big girl and going to big school. For most of the morning I was more stressed about shuffling around my timetable and getting the Monkey off to daycare and packing lunches.
It wasn't until I got home afterwards with the glossy prospectus in my hand with the booklist and uniform list that I stopped to think. And felt overwhelming crushing sadness. That I won't get to drop her off at 9am, walking into her classroom and chatting to her teacher whie stowing her bag. I won't be the parent helper in class, nor he tuckshop lady, nor the reading Mum. Because I will be at work.
I will go to the P&C meetings, I will come to every concert, but the Easter Hat Parade? Probably not, because it will be in the middle of a workday unless by some stroke of good fortune I am on nightduty at the time.
At 3pm every day (hopefully) she will be picked up by the ASC people who wil give her fun activities and games to play while she waits for us to come pick her up, probably one of the last ones to be picked up some days.
I hate this.
I couldn't go to clinic today. I couldn't bear another reminder of the fact that next year I will spend so much of my time, have so much of my time stolen by people who have ruined their own bodies. I can't see another fat diabetic man who has FAKED the sugars in his BSL handbook as if it was some sort of test he needed to pass looking bewildered when we don't believe him. Who as I leave clinic is drinking a superlarge bottle of iced coffee while chowing down on a donut, in spiteof the 20 minutes that the consultant has just spent counselling him gently but firmly. The pointlessness of it all. I coudn't garner compassion today so I hid from the looming horizon of this being my profession and did Mum things.
I miss being a Mum. If I had a parenting report card I'd give myself a C- at the moment. I want to be that Mum I always wanted to be and managed so rarely. I want to stop snapping and I don't want to look at a tear-stained face which is saying "I don't want you to be disappointed in me Mummy" and trying to tamp down the response to implode.
I want to listen to the Monkey as she tells me about the "SPIDER IN THE TREE MUMMY" or to be the one that teaches her new nursery rhymes instead of being surprised and delighted when she starts singing them in the bath.
I was at Coles this afternoon picking up some stuff for dinner and I bought a block of chocolate. I eat it so rarely and especially now that I've been trying to be good, but tonight I'm going to eat it. In that ugly way that doesn't even savour it.
I have been riding for 3 weeks and mostly eating like a goddam model of decorum and I've lost 200g. Right now I struggle to give a fuck.