I’ve just put a small boy to bed, teetering with exhaustion and glowing with pride at having completed his first day at school. So proud in fact, that he has been wearing his new uniform since dawn and only agreed after much discussion that it should be removed not only for bathtime but also for bed. It is hung carefully in clear sight of his bed, lit by the nightlight so it can be admired at all times.
Everyone warned me that the day your child starts school is one of those watersheds, where the world spins a little more slowly on its axis, and the past four years flashes back in technicolor glory, from the tininess of hands and feet, the warm solidity of toddler thighs, the milestones of weaning and walking and talking… until suddenly you watch your child, so brave and expectant, in school shorts which look impossibly large and grown up, waving you off from the classroom door.
On the one hand I am so proud to have grown this amazing man-in-waiting who can take life in his stride and who views everything as the next great adventure; on the other I want to freeze this time forever to preserve the magic of these wonder years before he grows any older.
At the moment, I am required to play a starring role in all of his games; that of the beautiful princess, who must be rescued from danger (dragons, pirates, husbands; anything which might distract me in fact). There is little to indicate me for this role in anyone else’s eyes, but for Harry this is my natural place and I participate willingly, even if this requires me to climb grubby trees and sit there for hours whilst he rushes around at ground-level, or to wedge myself into the impossibly small cupboard under the stairs which doubles as a castle dungeon. Occasionally, Harry forgets to rescue me and I find him playing with Lego, oblivious to the cobwebs in which I am covered. Still, I am all too aware that soon I will be required to maintain a low profile when games with friends are afoot, so I will make the most of my time in the princess spotlight.
All this came back to me as I sat in the school car-park today, clutching the wheel and bracing myself to drive away. In every car in the car park this scene was repeated; mascara being reapplied, husbands being called and debriefed on the recent partings, and everyone being brave and taking a deep breath.
In the end it was a triumph; a brilliant day for Harry with no tears or drama. In fact, the only thing that Harry found shocking was that at lunch they were served only half a jam-tart each for pudding, and not a whole one (Harry is a man of healthy appetite). Despite this reportedly Dickensian approach to food, the signs are good and I couldn’t be more relieved. It’s one of those days where you feel like a million miles have been travelled… but travelled well.
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Regular followers of this blog will know me as a lover of words, so when I stumbled across this beautiful collection of untranslatable words (below) via Pinterest which capture specific feelings or moments in time, it resonated perfectly with my current heightened emotional scale. The authors collected eleven words which in different languages define something perfectly, and appear to have no direct translation. The piece itself is lovely, but equally fascinating is the response it has gathered whenever it has appeared; the list of new words just grows and grows as readers around the world add more, as in the comments here.
For me there is just one word which is missing from these lists and deserves to be invented or declared; that mixed feeling of pride, nostalgia, anxiety and infinite, reckless love which hits you like a wave when your impossibly small child turns to you at the door of his new classroom and waves you goodbye….
We should name it, I think.
sylvie la GB
lovely post !
Gillian
Oh Kate – I send you a big hug. Angus starts school tomorrow and I know exactly what you are feeling right now. I think there is already a word, and it’s motherhood. Maybe it should be parenthood but I wonder if dads feel these milestones as keenly as we do? You are raising a wonderful little man. Xx
Liz H.
Pulls your heart strings? My son will be 22 soon and missing his baby to grade school years has never really abated.
Jackie
Hi Kate , be brave , I still felt like that on Sunday when I took my 6′ 3″ son who is now 21 (how??) back to uni to start clinical school, cried all the way home love Jackie xx
Anonymous
beautiful day! xx
Anne
wonderfully written as always. My son starts reception soon – not sure how that happened! On a creative writing summer school many years ago in Toowoomba, Australia, I met a girl from Macedonia who told me her language had a word for when all the hands of the clock are, for a second, on the same number/increment. if you see it, you make a wish.
katengland
Sigh. Expressed beautifully. I still feel this way when I leave my daughter; school, airport, train station, whatever. She’s 25.
Happy
I held myself together this morning as I did this with my pre-schooler today but on reading this there are tears. Lots of tears. Thank you for this celebration of the bittersweet.
Michelle
Well said. My baby will start preschool next year…I am sure a word will come then.
violetannie63
Oh I think I am going to use all eleven of those words from now on!
And little Harry…bless! One more little triumph under his (and your) belt as he starts his big adventure into the world. First days are always scary, but I think children handle them much better than adults. Every time one of my nephews or nieces trots off to begin the school career, I am worried and scared for them – but they’re always alright and show much more bravery than I. Lovely post
Barbara Backer-Gray
Maybe tomorrow Harry can walk up to the front and ask, “Please sir, may I have some more?” Yes, the first day is huge. I still remember taking a hasty picture of B on his first day, with his little Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox in his hand. In less than two years from now I’ll be taking a hasty, teary picture when we leave him in his college dorm room… Time sure flies.
Mel-The Organic Mamas
what a lovely post, kate. I think the word is heartbreak !!! I still have twinges of that when I see mums and their pre-school age daughters having lunch in a cafĂ©……mel x
nrhatch
So glad that Harry enjoyed his first day at school . . . and that you survived the tumult of emotions.
My favorite in that list: JAYUS.
Rebecca
As a grandmother, I still feel that same feeling when my grown children and their children leave to go home. It never changes. There’s is always a string in our heart to be pulled no matter how worn that string has become. Enjoy every bittersweet moment. God bless.
Hannah
I have been reading you blog, which I love, although it does make me feel inadequate! But never felt driven to comment – until now. It was my little boy ,Noah’s, 5th birthday yesterday and first day of school today. I read your blog last night before bed and it was just how I was feeling. Having just dropped him off and had a good cry I am now trying to shake that feeling by making a treasure chest cake for his party on sat keep blogging and inspiring and comforting me in equal measure! Thanks Hannah
Jacinta Grant
Beautiful & bittersweet … An experience yet to be had with my daughter of 6 months *sigh*
As I watch her transform before my eyes, all I can think is … Moving forward she will never be this way again … It really pulls on your heart string x
Jackie Sorich
You made me cry, your heart is so sweet and your writing so beautiful. You made me remember those days with my little ones (more than 30 years ago), as if it was yesterday. Thank you for your blog and beautiful heart. Someone told me once a Yiddish word (so I do not know if I spell it correctly) Verklempt…the heart swelling, love, tender, feeling…more research is needed. Perhaps this is the word you are looking for.
Thank you so much for your dear,sweet heart and lovely family. Many blessing to you and yours.
Ali
You called the emotions of that first day at school well. And from that moment time just seems to accelerate away – my eldest is on the cusp of teenager-hood and I have the feeling that each year passes faster than the last. Bittersweet indeed.
Anonymous
Kate,
Such a heartfelt post……you write beautifully.
The word you are looking for will come to you….you’ll see!!
ripe red berries
Kate, you so eloquently wrote, my exact feelings, at this exact moment in time…I just dropped my 3.5 yr. old son (who seems to have A LOT in common – based on your writings – with your son, Harry), off at his first day of pre-school. He has always been home with either, my partner, Michael or myself – no day care or regular babysitters…so, this day marks so much, for not only my son, Finn, but me too. Thank you for putting into words, what I am feeling at this moment…it has made it that much more poignant and beautiful…it helps knowing, I’m not the only one…Finn, waved good-bye to me, and I was the one who had to remember to breathe, deep…
northstory notes - Sept 6, 2013 : northstory
[…] have a word in another language for which there is no English word translation for? Kate discovered these at an emotional time in her […]
Pillows A-La-Mode
How lovely!
Chris
I love from the Japanese Wabi Sabi, the discovery of beauty in imperfections, or perfectly imperfect. It’s a lovely post you wrote, and each new school year, while that sense you describe lessens, I don’t think it ever really goes away.
Anonymous
This is a lovely post, to which i completely relate … though my little boy is “already” 8 …
Also, the french follower of your blog that i am never knew the word “dĂ©paysement” found no trannslation. Thanks for sharing
Audrey
Alice
I only discovered your blog recently and had to read every post. You are such a creative, energetic and loving mother.
I adore the picture of your son in this post.