I walked past a woman in David Jones the other day. She was trying to wrangle an energetic little lad, who reminded me of my own little lad when he was that age, into a pair of school shoes.
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I dare suggest they were his first pair. For a child who's spent the best part of his first five years barefoot or in runners that have Spiderman on them, the whole idea of stiff black shoes - perhaps with laces, horror or all horrors - can be quite a traumatising experience.
In many ways (she says with all the wisdom of her children's school years behind her), school shoes represent many things about that next step into formal education. You have to conform, you'll feel restricted at times, things will seem a little stiff till the whole experience is worn in but eventually you'll feel comfortable. And for the next 13 years, the first thing you'll want to do when you get home is just kick them off.
My children finished school three years ago now and I'm still getting all emotional over back-to-school commercials, little tackers in Smiggle buying new lunch boxes, people advertising second-hand uniforms on Facebook. I know it's ridiculous, and I know you won't believe me if you're in the midst of it, but your child's school days are some of the best of their lives. And yours.
As my children, who are no longer children, are dealing with adult things, proper relationships, finances and futures, what I wouldn't give for a day where we could just go and select a lunchbox together and talk about which flavour muffin they wanted me to fill said lunchbox with.
I had some friends over for cake the other day. When you live by yourself, baking is a two-edged sword. It's a pleasant and rewarding experience to see something come out of the oven, but if you're the only one there to eat it, be damned. All I want is someone to bake for.
Which I could do when I had lunchboxes to fill. A way of showing them I loved them. And hopefully at recess they thought of me while eating their muffin. I know they probably never did. Wanting to rush off and play handball, or kick the footy around, or hang off the monkey bars.
I miss them being that age. So many good memories. I see young families now, out for walks, at the shops, and I envy all they have in front of them. You think that tantrum in Woolies is the worst thing that's ever going to happen? It's not. You think that cliquey friendship group is the worst? She'll be smart enough to work that out herself. You think being labelled talkative in class might hold your child back? Don't even go there.
I remember the relief parents felt around this time of year when the kids were heading back to school. But there were many years where I didn't want holidays to end. There was nothing I loved more than long summery days spent doing nothing with the kids.
We might go to the park, head to the pool, draw, cook, cover the playroom floor with every Lego piece we owned and just build something. We might not.
READ MORE KAREN HARDY:
Sure there were days where they were bored, where they were miserable whiners. Weeks too when we packed them off to holiday camps with various themes, from intensive swimming, to architectural design. I loved the days, though, where the mothers of the neighbourhood would just fall into this unwritten rhythm of communal living where we'd all share each other's children in return for some alone time on a Wednesday afternoon.
All I'm saying is don't wish away your children's lives too quickly. Before you know it, they will be all grown up and on their way to somewhere else.
The start of a school year marks another year gone and they fly by. Revel in their squidginess while you can. Encourage them to snuggle up on the lounge while you read them a story. Take them out individually for milkshakes after school. Tickle them. Ask them questions. Listen, truly listen.
Children are magical creatures for the most part. Sure there are times when they are monsters. Life isn't a fairy tale.
Those school shoes need to be worn, but perhaps loosen the laces just a little so your child has the space to breathe.
I've covered a few things here at The Canberra Times over the years, from sport to education. But now I get to write about the fun stuff - where to eat, what to do, places to go, people to see. Let me know about your favourite things. Email: karen.hardy@canberratimes.com.au
I've covered a few things here at The Canberra Times over the years, from sport to education. But now I get to write about the fun stuff - where to eat, what to do, places to go, people to see. Let me know about your favourite things. Email: karen.hardy@canberratimes.com.au
My children are adults and I still get sad when it's back-to-school time
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26.01.2024
I walked past a woman in David Jones the other day. She was trying to wrangle an energetic little lad, who reminded me of my own little lad when he was that age, into a pair of school shoes.
$1/
(min cost $8)
Login or signup to continue reading
I dare suggest they were his first pair. For a child who's spent the best part of his first five years barefoot or in runners that have Spiderman on them, the whole idea of stiff black shoes - perhaps with laces, horror or all horrors - can be quite a traumatising experience.
In many ways (she says with all the wisdom of her children's school years behind her), school shoes represent many things about that next step into formal education. You have to conform, you'll feel restricted at times, things will seem a little stiff till the whole experience is worn in but eventually you'll feel comfortable. And for the next 13 years, the first thing you'll want to do when you get home is just kick them off.
My children finished school three years ago now and I'm still getting all emotional over back-to-school commercials, little tackers in Smiggle buying new lunch boxes, people advertising second-hand........
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