One of the many benefits in writing a blog is that you always have a place to release your thoughts. Which is great for me today. You? Maybe not so much…

The school year always starts out all shiny and full of promise. New shoes, new uniforms, new adventures and in our case, a new school.

Shiny, happy people, until the shit sets in.

I have grossly underestimated how tough it must be to start at a new school. I changed schools in Year 3, and I tried really hard to recall it, but I cannot remember much at all. I think I was too hocked up on Tang, or something.

At the end of the first day of the Woogette’s new school, I picked them up as the bell blared out. 

I asked Jack how his day went. Jack is a brave soldier who tries so hard to be “The best that I can be…”

He told me it was not great and that at lunchtime, he wandered around trying to find someone to play with. He was the New Kid on The Block (NKOTB) and the friendship groups were well established.

Jack is a social man who enjoys a good game of tip.

Eventually he found himself in the school office, and when one of the office ladies asked if she could help him, he could not be brave anymore and burst into tears.

My heart when I heard this? OUCH!

The Principal, a kindly young man, saw the commotion in the waiting room and invited Jack into his office for a chat. Jack calmed down and had a natter before he was invited to feed the Principal’s goldfish.

THIS was a very big responsibility.

Jack fed the fish and was ready to return to the playground with a newly appointed buddy, when he informed the Principal that one of his 3 fish was floating motionless, upside down on the top of the water.


Meanwhile, my big boy is finding it really hard. He is swinging between being incredibly enthusiastic and deadly stubborn. The politics of the Year 4 Playground is alive and well, so it would seem. Spending his lunchtime sitting on the benches watching the other kids play handball would be no fun for anyone.

We have been discussing the notion of resilience and I have dished out the smallest dose of “toughen up buttercup”. He is beginning to understand now that in the playground, and indeed in life, things rarely come and land in your lap.

You need to go out and grab it. Go and stand in the handball line like you have every right to be there.

So this morning, with my fighting words ringing in his ears, he went into school with tears in his eyes.

I drove away a few blocks, pulled the car over, sat on a bench seat.  I instagrammed* the scene and put my phone in my bag.

And bawled my guts out.

Tomorrow is a new day. I will just get through this one first.

*instagramming is another thing us bloggers do. Don’t ask me why. It just happens.