Thursday, 6 January 2011

Missing my little boy

Back to school


I have longed for the day when the boys went back to school. Jonny is not much bother these days - he likes to hang out in his bedroom with his mates and chat on Facebook when he's alone. Charlie, however has driven me mad! He's been so well behaved over Christmas, but wants my attention constantly and follows me around with his DS playing that irritating tinny noise. I can't tell you how much I've craved for my own space and some peace and quiet.

The last couple of days have seen a resurgence of Diva-ness. He's prone to diva strops anyway, but I knew when he started designing his own handbags that things weren't looking good. I'm being perfectly serious about the handbags too - we even sewed one up, after he cut out the pieces without help from me, from bits of scrap fleece he found in my rag bag. It was pretty good too! Although possibly not a great indicator of future neediness. Bugger.

This morning we were strops-a-go-go. He'd had fun yesterday with Jonny and was up in the night looking forward to them playing again today. By 7am he was stropping because he wanted to play Mario online and we couldn't get connected. Then he was crying because he was worried he'd be badly behaved at school and grounded from doing the things he likes doing. Then I told him off because he shouted at me that he "didn't care" whilst crossing his arms and flouncing like Louie Spence.And so it went on.

Eventually it all ended with a ginormous meltdown, and a good half hour of sobbing and cuddles, and me with a very wet T shirt. Bless him. He's happy at school, but he finds change difficult. I think post Christmas is quite hard for small children too - after the mad excitement of December, and the complete indulgence of Christmas we somehow expect them to know that it won't last forever and they're to go back to the way they were in October. It's tough.

I eventually persuaded him to go to school with a scrap of fake fur in his pocket that he could feel whenever he wanted a hug. I even rubbed it around my neck so that it smelled of my perfume. He seemed extremely happy and went to school without too much problem after that, except for the odd wobbly deep breath and red eyes.

It's madness that I'm sitting here feeling bereft without him, isn't it? Why is motherhood so emotionally demanding? His teacher was kind and understanding and made light of the situation (Charlie showed her his fur piece and she made it into a beard, which he thought was hilarious) and he was happy when I left. But somehow I'm worried that the teacher was not sympathetic enough and that she thinks I overindulge Charlie or, worst still, that I am barking mad. Maybe I am.

I took the photo above when he wouldn't stop crying to show him how sad his face was and how sad that was making me. It bloody well worked too - he stopped! Astounded. I made him smile, despite his best resolution not to, by saying "bum." It's nice to see that some of the simple rules of boyhood don't change. Now it's time for me to pack my ovaries away, pull myself together and get on with the day without missing him too much. Little sod.

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