Monday, 7 September 2009
Schoolbag in hand
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while.
Well. I would have sat down for a while. But life had other plans - she started school at 8.45, which stretched to 9.15 once I'd done her first cath. Walking home feeling vaguely sentimental about her first day in big school, my big grown up little girl. My reverie interrupted by Mog's school nurse on her way to work, then the girls' OT on her way into work, and finally destroyed altogether by the sight of weeping mothers walking in the opposite direction, having clearly just dropped their own precious little big children off at the other local school.
So home, and just time for half a cup of coffee before back to school for the next appointment. A now wheelchair, just for indoor use in school. A fantastic wheelchair, with possibly 7 years' of growth in it. Definitely massive. And took 1 3/4 hours to set up, so once she was all set, she had just 15 minutes left of school before it was time for me to pick her up again. So I signed myself out of the main reception and walked slowly around to her classroom, editing her school dinner menu as I went, crossing off the foods she can't eat, and being pleasantly surprised at how many meals that leaves her.
Home and an afternoon of cuddles and snuggles, before "I am really very tired Mummy" at 5.20. And fast asleep by 6. That's after one half day, one half day where she spent at least half the time lying on the floor next to me as the wheelchair man bolted different bits of her new wheelchair together. Fulltime could be interesting.
Meanwhile Mog came off the bus in a bit of a state, eyes rolling, breathing like a drain. Lots of suction later, she was clear and laughing and beautifully happy. For about 10 minutes, and then the bubbles started building again until she was drowning, more suction, singing and laughing and clear, then a slow build up and more bubbles and more drowning....Now fast asleep but sitting upright in an armchair for the second night in a row. Actually breathing beautifully now, if a little quickly. I wish I knew what was going on with her. We see her paediatrician next week, what's the betting this will all mysteriously clear up the day before we see him, coming back with knobs on the day after?