16 September 2006
Well, it's the big day, and we're all up astonishingly early – it’s like Christmas! Ds puts on his new uniform and literally bounces out of the door. We forget the school bag his teachers had left on their home visit and manage to be a couple of minutes late, even though the school is on our road... start as you mean to go on, I say.
Luckily, I hadn't even had to ask the teachers if it was okay I come with ds on his first day at preschool - they offered, and added that I should come for as many days as made us both feel comfortable.
When we get there, all the other mums seem to know each other and are standing round the schoolyard chatting, strangely enough, about Supernanny, which had been on TV the night before. "Could you believe that husband?!" one gasps, "makes me think twice about trading my model in after all!" another sniggered.
We get talking and it turns out 20 or so of the January intake kids are staying in the preschool another term, so have been together for six months already. All the kids adore their preschool teachers and the mums seem to think the school has a balanced, holistic approach, achieving good (not great) grades, but looking at each child as an individual.
The morning goes well, and everything takes me back to my own primary school - the outside climbing frames on mats, the pegs with names on, the way the children’s pictures on the walls. But things have changed, too. There are two computers they can use, and a giant African snail in a tank - slightly more exotic than the stick insects we used to keep. There’s no structured time and ds is delighted just to have the freedom to move on to new activities. He leads me round by my hand asking what I want to play with next…
The children sing a goodbye song to us and we skip out happily at 11.30am. Ds immediately asks "can we go again tomorrow?", which really puts me at my ease. We also meet Claire, who'll be looking after ds in the afternoon, as she takes her youngest to the toddler group at the school. Ds and her seem to get along really well, another good omen for the new routine... what was I worried about?!
Went to see the midwife in the middle of the week (my thanks to the Lambeth parking attendant who issued me with a £50 fine for putting my wheels on the curb whilst I was in with her!), and everything seems OK. I'm a bit big though - measuring from bellybutton to pelvis I'm what a 26-weeks pregnant lady should be, not a 20-week one.
I asked the midwife if I should go on a bit of a diet (nothing spectacular, I realise now's not the time to buy aspirational clothing!) and she laughed and said that wouldn't help, it's just a lovely big baby. She may have seen my smile slip as the birth ran through my mind, and don't hate me if I admit that for a split second that awful story about pregnant teenage girls smoking to keep their baby's birthweight down drifted through my mind...