Off to the Bowels of Suburbia.

Yesterday I went to the kid’s school no less that four times.

First, to drop them off and then back again at 11am to deliver Harry’s lunch box, which was sitting happily on the kitchen table. I went back at 1.15 to collect Jack who was having issues dealing with the tail end of an ear infection and finally, returned at 3pm to pick up Harry.

I felt like I shouldn’t have bothered leaving the school at all yesterday.

But the truth is, we are leaving the school. Permanently as of the beginning of next year. Because we are moving.

I have known for about a month but chose to squash the thought to the back of my brain. But now it has moved to the front of by brain and out through my mouth.

If North Sydney is the brains of the North Shore and Chatswood is the heart, we am moving to somewhere in the lower digestive tract next year. It is an area where the houses are fancy and big, the streets are wide and the scenario screams suburbia.  

And in amongst the fanciness, there is a plain, modest brick house on 1400 square metres that will become the new Chateau Da Woog.

It is like a farm. I intend to raise chickens in between bouts of crying.

I am going to miss my hood here. I have been living in this area for 15 years and I love it. There are many reasons to move however, and Mr Woog has successfully talked me off the ledge. I am allowed to be pissed off about it until the New Year.

We drove to the new hood this morning to visit the new school. Mr Woog did his best to force me to look on the bright side and advised me that all I needed to do was “Find a mum-friend with a fondess for Friday afternoon wine and cheese, who preferably has a swimming pool….”

The kids were under strict instructions to behave when we arrived. Harry said he was going to only speak in a French accent. I was so nervous and worried. I did  not care so much about them, more about me and how I was going to fit in.

I too, was on my best behaviour.

The Principal came and introduced himself. He seems so lovely. I have to say that (although he really was) because Harry quickly grabbed on of my business cards out of my handbag and gave it to him, saying “For more information please visit”

I just wanted to die.

The Principal stood there studying the card for a moment when I blurted out “I write on the internet….” before changing the subject.

We went into a meeting with the Deputy Principal and discussed the kids and their behaviour and their academic brilliance. As I spoke, I truly started to believe the bullshit that sprung forth from my mouth. It was not until I had finished that I realised I was talking about some other kids, not mine.

I just want it all to go smoothly. Nothing to see here officer. We are just like any other family.

Jack sat still, as straight as a tack trying so hard to impress anyone that might wander by. He asked if there was a talent quest. There is. Fresh blood to perform to. That is all he needed to know.

I feigned interested as the School P & C was discussed and how wonderful and active they were. I nodded along when all of the after school activities were covered. Harry asked some important questions, like whether the canteen served tuna sushi and did the school teach Tai Kwan Do. The AP was very accommodating and spoke to them directly, which I liked. He asked if there were any more questions and Harry had one last one.

“Where did you get your hair done, because I dig your do….”

I laughed nervously and grabbed his hand, giving it a loving squeeze with just enough of my nail digging into his palm, which activated the code for PLEASE SHUT UP…

So we are moving to the bowels of suburbia and I thought I had the chance to have a social do-over, but the area has already had a taste of Woog, so I think I will just go with the flow. 

You cannot push back the tide, after all.