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Helenh68
January 31, 2008

apron strings

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I know....I know...I have swallowed a dictionary lately! You must all think I talk all the time....but you see it is the complete opposite! Scrapping is my therapy at times and this is how I get it all out. Not the best photo, but the most natural one I got. Thanks for looking!

Text reads:

As your first day of school loomed after almost a six week summer break, I began to get that tightening of my stomach. We have had a wonderful summer break and although I delight in having you home I knew the time was right for you to return and begin Grade One! As the countdown began you would say, *I don*t want to go to school*, and I realised just how much you are your mother*s child. We stink at transitions. You are fine at home and you will be at school, but adjusting from one to the other can, at times, be painful. I was expecting tears the night before*..but none came! I was expecting to have to drag you out of bed in the morning*.not so. Wow! You were up, dressed and asking to pack your own lunch! When I tentatively ventured a *how do you feel?, the reply quickly came back, *Excited Mum*. Wow again! You are growing up and I am so proud. A few hidden facts, however, you had enlightend me to. For example you liked school but hated it when the teacher growled. Hello babe! You have the growliest mother on earth; you should be used to that by now. But you always fear getting caught up with the *naughty boys* and cower when the scolding begins. I guess the most surprising aspect of this morning was when I asked if you would like me to gel up your new hair style. *No thanks Mum*. I could not help exclaiming, *Why?* for I knew you to be so tickled with your new look. Your reply, *They will pick on me* - the words a mother dreads to hear. *Those boys Mum*.I don*t want to be different for they will say something*.they say things when someone is different *.a mean different Mum*. My heart sank then and there. Here was my son already curtailing in fear of the words and actions of others. We left it at that and packed all his books and headed off. The closer we got, the quieter you grew. As we entered the class and you sat on the mat with your bag and books, I could see your eyes beginning to get glassy. I knealt down and whispered, *Deep breath babe, it will be okay*, and quickly departed the room before you could see the tears swelling in my own eyes. Will this ever get any easier? How it tears at my heart to leave you. Even with your little sister at home, the emptiness and sounds of silence are deafening. I know you are who you are, and who you are is just beautiful. But I also know I need to make you more confident; not only amongst others but within yourself. As I apprised your Dad of the details later that morning and expressed my concerns, his words really struck a cord: *If he can*t be confident at home, then you can*t expect him to be confident anywhere else*. Taking that to heart I realised it was time for me to step back and cut one more of those proverbial apron strings.


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