David’s mother’s day greetings to me!
“Come little bird, stand still on my finger;
I have a big secret to tell just for you;
The most beautiful mama in the world
No one else but My mama!
Go little bird, fly,
and tell this big secret to my mama!
ang saya!
On the first week of March, I had invited about twenty adults and children for his 4th birthday. It had been a courageous act on my part and total confidence on papa who would have done all the grocery shopping. See, party was supposed to be on Sunday, March 30, but since I work on Saturday, I would have entrusted everything on papa to find all the ingredients for pinoy recipes, not to mention cleaning the flat upside down. Although I said I had full confidence on my partner, still it would have been a riot.
BUT, Party was cancelled. On his big day, he was rather not in the mood, had less appetite, and just sitting in front of TV, half lost. He was not his usual boisterous-let’s-fight-let’s-play-dinosaur self. He complaint of stomach upset. But when we asked him if it was painful he said no. The absence of cold, fever and cough made me wonder what was wrong with him. He was not in pain, but he was also weak.
On the night of 28th, the fever finally came out. I had baked some cakes for his classmates as they had scheduled the following day a little party at the school for the three children, David included. In the morning, he was still feverish, although it lowered down as soon as I gave him the medicine. I called the teacher to ask if it was possible for David to come over just to blow his candles with his friends and then return home afterwards. I brought the party hats, plates et al, and as it was, they were just waiting for us.
It was over after 30 minutes. David wanted to stay a bit, and the teacher said it was ok. Pa had taken the leave that day, which was a comfort really. By mid-day the school called telling pa that David was feverish. He called the “SOS medecin” (emergency doctor), and we found out that he had a throat infection which was contagious. David had to be isolated from other children for at least two days.
The Sunday party with our friends was cancelled. Still, I had to use all the stuff I bought for his dinosaur theme party. He helped me decorating and was enjoying himself.
The pictures speak for themselves.
David: “maman, je suis le tyrannosaurus et, toi, toi, tu es le diplodocus!”
Me: Whooaaa, where have you been all day, gone hunting some dinos?
I felt so damn stupid at that moment really. There are only things I honestly know about dinos: a dino that eats meat and a dino that eats plants! And my vocabulary is limited to one fucking noun only, dinosaur.
David, very very excited, I mean, hysteric: D’accord maman, d’accord? Tu es le diplodocus et moi, moi, je suis le tyrannosaurus!!”
Me, making a mental note to visit wikipedia and check out these animals, how to pronounce them properly and how they are written: Ok, wait, what is ah, ah, what was that again?
David repeated it to me.
Ok, what’s the difference between a tyrannosaurus and a diplodocus! Why do I get to be the diplodocus?
David: Maman, le tyrannosaurus, il mange des viandes, et le diplodocus, il mange des herbes.
Me: Ok, why do I get to be the diplodocus?
David: Parce que, le tyrannosaurus, il est tres, tres costaud! Et je vais te manger!
Shit. He is almost four and he already has this mentality that the sex I belong to is the weaker kind! Tsong, humanda ka paglaki mo he he he!
That the first thing he said with eyes still half-asleep: “Il n ya pas d’ ecole aujourd’hui maman!” (There’s no school today mama!)
The knots in my stomach that I’ve been feeling since Day 1 of his school tightened and I had to make several trips to the toilet for it! Despite the encouragement, the pretend happy faces while making stories of how exciting school is, there’s that imminent tension and doubt of how he will react to the new “grown-up” school and how he will behave socially.
He was very excited indeed on his first day. Papa took the “Back-to-School-Leave” to be there with us. The “grand-ecole” as David calls it is your typical kindergarten school, decorated with colourful children stuff on the walls, all for corners designed to give an impression of several functions. A kitchenette, which caught David’s eyes first, a music room with plastic music toys, a library, a mat with railways and streets on it, a table with mannequin heads complete with plastic hair dryer, hair clips and combs, a corner with baby dolls on their beds, etc. I was amused that David was excited with the iron and the iron board and was happy to show us ironing clothes. Some home-grown influences! After a while he asked us to sit at the table while he is preparing some meal. Some plastic scrambled egg!
The first two days went by smoothly, on the third day and the next following week was stormy! He disgruntled about going to school but he never did cry while on our way. I had a lot of explaining to do and fervently prayed at the same time that he would understand why he has to go to school and stay there til 5:30 pm. Every morning that I left him he would scream to death and threw himself on the floor!
On the first day of the second week, while preparing his breakfast, our conversation went like this:
Me: David after breakfast, we’ll put your clothes on and we’ll go to school okay? Lola will pick you up tonight.
David (very hesitantly): OK maman.
Me: Promise me you won’t cry, ok?
David looks at me with a begging look.
Me: Promise me there’s no crying today when mama leaves. You know that all mamas and papas are not allowed to stay there with the children. So you don’t cry, ok?
David: OK.
Me: Promise?
David: Promise.
Fast-forward 30 minutes. In the classroom. David is already holding his favourite stuff toy tightly on his chest, while the other hand is locked in my leg. I could feel storm coming. In fact the classroom was already in storm with children screaming. I ushered David to a small corner where we could have a face-to-face talk. I made him sat in front of me and look in his eyes. “You promised me you won’t cry, remember?” His lips began to tremble and I could hear ragged breaths. I could see that he was trying to stop himself from crying. I paused. Let him have a moment for himself. Then he looked at me again with the saddest eyes, breathing heavily. “You promised me you won’t cry sweetheart. You know, this is going to be like this. Papa travail (working), mama travail, lola travail et David travail ici ave des amis.”
Silence. Then he hugged me tightly, his fingers locked around my neck. I whispered to his ear, “Do you want to cry?” He pushed away then looked at me questioningly, lips trembling hard now. “Do you want to cry?” Nods! “Ok, you can cry but not too long.” Then the sky broke down! I gave him full three minutes to let go of all that emotions. Sob. Sob. Sob. I had to drag myself out away from him. One last kiss, one last hug to give a period of this hullabaloo.
As I exited, plenty of little heads were screaming at the doorway, with one school assistant barring herself at the door.
Every day at work, I keep on wondering how he is doing. I know he is fine. I can tell it at night when he sings new songs, tells stories I have never heard from him before and mention names I don’t recognize. At the moment it’s all about “I’m going to the BIG school today to work with Vincent, Benjamin and Jessica.”
I’m one contented mother. Well, when it comes to just that.
There are attitude problems, unpleasant character bourgeoning slowly and dangerously. Right now the hardest subject to teach to a three year old and a half is GMRC!
