Homework

When I thought I was shipping all the midgets off to school I didn’t count on being bombarded with three lots of homework coming back each afternoon.

While Master Seven remains vague over whether he’s got any and then it’s painfully drawn out, the twins enthusiasm for theirs makes up for it. Once they’ve returned home and re-explored their surroundings, noting any changes in their absence, ie, mysterious and enticing-looking packages I may’ve dumped on the bench top after a shopping trip, the contents of which would really not excite them, and then checked the fridge for treats, they remember their homework.

Then it’s all go.

“Mum, I want to read you my book – it’s called Daddy,” shouts Master Five.

“Mum, I want to read you my Daddy book too,” chimes in his sister.

“Hang on, one at a time.”

“I’ll go first!” they both yell.

So one of them starts while the other sulks nearby.

“Daddy is running,” began Miss Five, her finger skidding over the words out of sync and her eyes skipping to the picture to tell her what daddy is doing.

She gets to the end, proud as punch, before her brother has his turn.
”Daddy is …,” he pauses while he checks out what daddy is doing.

“Sleeping!” informs his sister.

“Shut up! It’s my turn.”

I decide it be best to do homework separately so the next afternoon, they sit down at different times and read me their Mummy book.

“Mummy is running,” reads Miss Five and, I was impressed to note, her finger kept in time with the words.

Next they sat up at the table and dutifully wrote out the word “am” over and over. Well one of them did. The other decided to throw a strop and do things her way. Apparently I know nothing.

This came with fist-slamming on the table (her – not me) and storming off down the hall (again, her – not me, although I felt like throwing my toys too). Then I noticed a note glued to the homework book about providing lots of encouragement so I got over it, took some deep breaths and decided to try again later.

But while I was distracted trying in vain to rein in my feisty redhead, I didn’t realise her brother was in race-mode and had filled nearly a whole page with backward ‘a’s’ and no finger spaces in between. 

How on earth do teachers navigate 20-plus kids when I can’t even keep up with two?

So while we’re yet to get into a rhythm on the homework front, at least the playground dramas have sorted themselves out.

I think Miss Five was milking the sympathy last week when she said she had no one to play with. The next day she was spotted walking around holding hands with a group of bigger girls and quite self-assuredly calling the shots.

The Big School Debut

Aren’t they supposed to come home jaded after their first day of school?

I’m not sure what happened to mine but they were still fair bouncing off the walls at 8pm.

Some parents report their new entrants falling asleep during the car ride home. One mum took her boy out for a celebratory dinner and said he was diabolical.

I was looking forward to an early night but no, it was harder than ever to get them settled.

I did, however, manage to extract more information than usual about their first day.

“Mum, Jai didn’t get a growling all day because he uses his inside voice now,” reported Miss Five, before proceeding to fill me in, as usual, on all the kids who did get growlings.

This torrent lasted, in great detail, all the way home with Master Five interrupting at one point with his own input.

“Grrrr,” growled his sister, clearly annoyed. “I hadn’t finished!” And away she went again.

Finally she dried up and I asked her brother what he learnt that day.

“I learnt to write a capital I,” he managed, before running inside.

Funny how I get the most insight into their day from his one sentence than all his sister’s ramblings.

While his energy continued to be boundless, the big school debut caught up with his sister on day two. I’d left them watching a dvd while I went to cook dinner and when their dad rang I took the phone to her. I found her lying on the couch comatose and not happy about being woken up.

She couldn’t utter one word into the phone before storming off claiming everything to be too loud.

It was early to bed that night with no tea. The next morning my normally happy-go-lucky was still in a fouler.

“Mum, I still don’t know how to read or write,” she moaned.

I explained to her that it takes longer than two days and asked if she was looking forward to playing with her new friends again.

“No, because no body plays with me,” she whimpered. 

That’s not what you want to hear. If it weren’t for the fact her nana teaches at the same school and keeps an eye out for her grand children, I’d find it hard not to march up there every playtime and set her up with a friend.

I checked with their nana who confirmed that, while her twin brother disappears off into the sandpit with all his buddies, she’d seen Miss Five floating around by herself on day one and tried to find her a friend. The next day she’d spotted her sitting outside the classroom at lunchtime with another new boy who also appeared to be friendless.

When I asked Miss Five about this I didn’t realise her older brother was listening.

“Ahhhh Jayla’s got a boyfriend!” Master Seven shrieked running off to tell his brother. They both erupted into fits of laughter, reducing their emotional sister to tears once more.

“Well it wouldn’t hurt either of you to play with her,” I told them.

“No way,” said Master Seven.

“No way,” emulated his younger look-a-like.

I’m sure she will find a nice little girl to play with – or boy … I’ll just have to check him out first.

Fifth Birthday Party

I must familiarise myself with the protocols for throwing a multiple birthday party. 
Parents must dread being the recipient of invitations for one of these. Two presents? Good grief. 
In hindsight I should have written something on the invite - I certainly wasn’t expecting them to come bearing gifts for both but most generously and good-naturedly did. 
Pirates and Pirettes was the theme and the twins had been planning this much-anticipated party since about March. Each week a set of friends was invited, them uninvited after fallings out (mostly on the female side) to be replaced with another, despite my repeatedly telling them to keep their party planning to themselves. 
Finally the day arrived and they donned their costumes. Soon the house was descended upon by a bunch of excited pirates and pirettes who were put to work by Master Seven, aka Captain Cade, seeking treasure for their loot bags encompassing the circumference of the property. Then they got in amongst the food – pirate pizza, treasure island tropical fruit, little boys, pirate’s teeth and leaky pirate jelly boats (don’t ask), to name a few – before burning off more energy playing pass the treasure, musical boats and statues. 
The time went quick – in between each game they’d disappear to play with new toys – and I’d have to keep reining them in to play the games I’d organised. In the end we didn’t bother with pin the eye patch on the pirate as they were too busy doing bombs onto the tramp and we only just squeezed in time to sing Happy Birthday and cut the cakes. 

This year they had a cake each. I’ve always managed to get away with just one and, seeing as they don’t know any different, probably could have this year too. However, it was a special occasion so, the day before, I got to work making the cakes – all four of them! Yes, while Jai’s was a straight-forward round pirate face, involving only one cake, Jayla’s was a treasure chest, requiring three. 
By the end of Friday, after my big bake-off, I was all caked out and happily sent a chunk home with each child after the party. 
Everything went swimmingly and there was only one spat – the kids bombing onto the tramp ganging up on another kid through the bedroom window, but after a tip-off from the resident nark, it was all sorted. 
That night, despite wanting to stay up and play with their new toys, their tired bodies were telling them otherwise. By bath-time, Jayla was almost beside herself. 
“Mummy,” she sulkily accused, as I washed her. “Why did you make us green and orange jelly boats? You should’ve made us red ones!” 
“Is that all you’ve got to say about your party?” I asked as she pouted and looked away. 
In spite of the overtiredness, her conscience must’ve kicked in for, as I tucked her in bed she said sweetly, “Thank you for my party mummy.” 
“You’re welcome,” I smiled and, walking out of the room, I heard a second voice from the other bed call through the darkness: “Thank you for my party mummy.” 
And with that it was all worth it.

End of an Era

I can still vividly remember my younger brother’s final day at kindy – getting to the gate, then his small retreating figure as he raced back and threw himself into his favourite teacher’s arms. Last Friday this scene was replayed with my own children. 
It was a bittersweet day – the end of an era, yet the start of the next chapter. 
The twins dressed in their finest and, at mat time, lined up alongside five other children leaving for school. They took turns sitting on the ‘throne’ next to the head teacher who made each child feel special by talking about their time at kindy and the exciting school times ahead. 
Anyone in the room was allowed to put up their hand and share anecdotes about what they loved about the individual being farewelled. Because there was such a big group leaving, the ceremony was lengthy and the children were getting restless. After every two kids, they were asked to stand and run down to the swings and back which seemed to generate another couple minute’s attention span. 

Then the leavers were issued with a diploma, their kindergarten cvs and a playdough cake each, and everyone sung and clapped. Fancy food was handed out at morning tea, a gift was presented and, at home time, there were hugs, tears and promises of returning for a 
visit. 
Despite there being so many leaving at once, much ado was made for each child and I wondered if the twins were feeling any twinges of sadness as it sunk in that there was to be no more kindy. 
Apparently not. 
As we walked out the doors for the final time, I turned to them and asked if they had a good last day. 
To which Master Four replied: “Was it our last day?”