Yesterday was Little Pencil’s last athletics carnival as a primary school student meaning it was the last athletics carnival I was welcome to attend, meaning that at any future carnivals I will have to go either disguised as a tree or incognito as a stalker-type. For the sake of son’s future mental health I plan to do neither so this was really the last one.
I was quite excited to go to the carnival although I am really not what you call an athletics enthusiast, it was just that this was the first time I was going to attend one of these events where I wasn’t going to be torn. I had NO work commitments, no plans and nothing to stop me from just being there.
I was also going to see some people that I never get to see enough of and I knew there was a canteen. Let’s be honest here – it’s not ALWAYS about the child, it’s often about hot chips.
Being the neurotic type I always over prepare myself for these events – but just not in the way that the other mothers do. Of course, like every mother, I took heaps of food, plenty of hydration and sun protection that would have been effective on the actual sun. But I also prepared mentally because, unlike every other mother, I tend to be over neurotic doubled with a hefty dose of ultra sensitivity. And I find school gatherings stressful.
Crowds of parents are just like crowds of kids and sometimes it can be a little treacherous on the playground for us adults. I am very lucky, I have some gorgeous and wonderful close friends at the school and I count myself very lucky to be part of such an amazing community. But I am also very unlucky because I over analyse and assess the shit out of every interaction I have. Geez I sound like fun to be around.
Maybe it’s just the memory of my own school days that corrupts my enjoyment of any of Little Pencil’s school activities. I am not one of those people that look back at school with thoughts of fun and laughter. More angst and tears.
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I wonder around the school mums from group to group with a big smile on my face and I chat and I laugh and I make other people laugh and when I start to feel like I’m actually grown up and past the shit of the school yard my inner child kicks me in the solar plexus with her Bata Toughies*. I start to unravel my conversations or worry about what I am saying or what the people around me are thinking or if I am being too loud/soft/opinionated/spineless.
It’s worse when I actually leave the place because without the people around me and with the disadvantage of time on my hands I really start to unpick every word and I play back conversations I am not even sure I had. (Yes, I AM sounding more and more like a fun person to hang around, remember NEVER to book accommodation in my head.)
And then it hits me that I don’t have to go back on Monday morning and like waking from a bad dream I jump up thrilled to be 45. Turns out there are advantages to being an old woman – you don’t have to go to school.
How was school for you? Good memories or bad?
*a South African reference maybe one person will understand
Appalling for me. Big hugs. Xxx
Do you remember a school picnic about 4 years ago? You were there with Little Pencil and you got talking to this random mum who was there with her daughter and toddler and she absolutely fell in platonic love with you and still is 5.5 years later?
You must present okay……
You loved me before you met me and I love you too although you suck at maths xx
Bata toughies … have not thought of them in a very long time! Or baby doll shoes … is that what we called them?
Same thing essentially but Bata was a brand name. The toughies suggested that they could endure a lot of playground shenanigans 🙂
An Aussie living in South Africa… and mum of 3 Bata-Toughies-wearers. We’ve got our School Sports Day next Friday. I’m more worried about the Mum’s Race 🙂
I wore high heels so that nobody could force me to run!
I was Nelly No-mates in primary school. They were not my happiest years. Thankfully things got better in high school and better again at Uni.
Unfortunately I too am a chronic over-thinker and over-analyser of every conversation. I’d a habit I am slowly eradicating from my life – but gee it’s hard!
We had Bata shoes here in Australia – they had a compass in the heel and left animal footprints. I always wanted a pair, still not sure why my mum wouldn’t let me have them.
I’m also presently in touch (through FB) a whole lot of people that went to Bondi Beach Public School which just celebrated it’s 90th birthday. We’re in the process of sharing memories of the teachers that were there. One person has even managed to contact one of our scarier teachers (who is now 92). It’s been interesting to go back in time and see if our memories were correct.
We all do the same thing, Lana x