Against All Odds.

Kids are truly the most amazing little creatures God made. They surprise you when you least expect it, and most need it.

They whinge, cry, snivel and screech at the edge of your patience all day long til you begin combusting a million mummy pieces all over the kitchen bench. Then, just as you squeeze them into the highchair trying hard not to strangle their belly on purpose with the belt, they hold your face delicately and say “Mummy? Lub yooooou!”

Your vibrant little chatterbox is in hospital so sick he hasn’t moved from foetal position, opened his eyes or spoken a single word for two days. Then his beloved brother walks in the room: He sits bolt upright, colour pouring into his cheeks, points a demanding finger and states “Wash your hands with the squirty stuff before you come to kiss me”.

You spend the week in tears because you have been told, after six months of waiting, hoping, worrying and doing everything in your power to avoid, the very worst news: Your beautiful baby girl will be disabled.

Five days later she takes her first steps.

First day of Big School

What a momentous occasion this feels like.
The build up begins the year before, with orientation, meeting "buddy's", buying oversize, unnatural feeling uniforms, and preparatory talks with your child on how the day pans out at big school - how you can't just go to the toilet willy nilly and bare your bottom to the playground when you wee, like you do at Kindy.
Then there's the build up for mum. Talk of Tea and Tears commiserations after the first drop off. Picturing your little teeny weeny person, drowning in his huge enormous uniform, like a sea turtle wobbling about under his bag. Thinking about how he'll cope left on his own in the playground, swallowed by the mass of kids who know what to do.
Will he take in everything the teacher says - will he miss something important he's supposed to do or know? How will he cope with all that sitting in one spot and concentrating on learning things which are so foreign to him - writing, reading, maths? Please God don't let it be too hot in the un-air conditioned classroom, he'll flag before 9am!
Finally, it's pick up time. I'm there 20 minutes early. Waiting. Wondering. Watching the closed door.
Then it opens. Out come 25 umbrella-like navy sunhats all squashed in a group together. Which one is he?!!!
A break-away hat comes toward me and there is it - a grown up, 'I can do this school stuff'-swagger, and one helluva huge smile.
I've never felt so proud in all my life.