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  • Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

I’m Sorry Mama…

I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you cry but tonight, I’m cleaning out my…

Oh sorry! You interrupted me.

May I just publicly say though, how completely and utterly underappreciated mothers are. Well, parents full-stop. But particularly mothers. I’m not martyring myself here (I’m saving that for later in this entry), but rather I’m referring to my own mother. Well, both of them, my real mum and my grandma, who raised me after mum number one died. For my dear mothers, I never in a million years realised how much you went through to get me here.

Firstly, childbirth. I truly think that on every birthday, we should just pause for a moment, pick up the nearest trumpet and blow. It doesn’t even need to sound like ‘The Last Post’, just the thought will count.

Secondly, just dealing with the craptitude (yep, that’s my new word for it) that comes with kiddies. I am astounded that you got through all that yuckiness I dished out, on top of sleep deprivation no less, and did so without even once spraying windex in my eyes. Thank you.

But finally, today I realised yet another marvel of effort that you put in – and here begins my martyrous spiel – in the form of getting me ready for school. Holy over-battered guacamole.

I had no idea.

Ella is starting school on Tuesday, you see, which, while completely exciting on the one hand, completely shocked me with how much preparation it entailed. I could rant about it with a thousand words, so instead I’m posting a picture. (But just SEE all those sharpened pencils, all individually named?!??!?!?!??!)

In seriousness, I’m stoked for Ella. She’s going to an amazingly gorgeous little school with mountains as the backdrop to its playground…AND will be doing the French immersion program meaning that with the exception of her music class, her teachers will only be speaking French!

Part of me is terrified it will tip her over-stimulation scales over the edge and she’ll implode, the other part is terrified she’ll return home to me all ‘Oooh la la, Mama, dzooo yer not knooow ‘ow ter speak la Francaise? Oooh, how yer suck…”

Back to the brighter side, at least I’ll be just that one step closer to being able to strike up a friendship with Johnny Depp the day that my little french speaking daughter ends up in the same playground as his little french speaking daughter. Masterful.

Ooh la la.

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