There is something about sitting in the school playground waiting for the bell to go that defies description and I donÄôt know why.
After all these year of doing I still cannot enjoy it as an experience. I vaguely know some of the mothers, and do not feel any more separate there than anywhere else, so it is not that. But yesterday I sat there, in the drizzle, with my daughter leaning and wriggling against me, looking out at the field and thinking about it all and it was so clear. I suddenly got it, like an epiphany.
The school terms are a grind of repetition, order, disciple, lunch boxes, waking up sleepy children, rushing, getting cross, collecting up to 8 other kids and battling through the joy of South London traffic including 18 meter busses to get to school where the kids all tumble out and straggle to their respective teachers.
I sat there yesterday and suddenly saw how repetitive it all is and yet the challenge is to keep doing it better each day. To make conscious decisions about how I will approach each teacher, mother, child, bowl of spilt cereal and uneaten porridge, lost glove and LT bus driver and try, on a daily basis to do it better.
I half wonder whether I will actually get to a point where it is easy, simple, smiling and fun. I guess that is not the point because it is still an extreme or a reaction.
I wonder if the point is to get all neutral and still about all aspects of life. I know it is that, I just dread it somehow. I hate the painful moments, I really do, but I love the fun and the laughter. Yesterday, celebrating LouisÄô birthday on the floor of the playroom was so sweet and fab. Does all that go when one finally gets it all?
Questions, questions. Somewhere I feel as though I should know the answers. I will look and report back.