The Young & The Restless | Primary school’s out for ever

Sure, it’s not every day of their lives, but it is 40 out of every 52 weeks for 13 years straight if they go through primary school right to the end of secondary school.

My first child started primary school 10 years ago, my second nine years ago and my third has just this week graduated after seeing through his seven years there, too.

Combined, they’ve completed their 21 years of primary schooling.

So, inevitably, the young get older, but I doubt whether the restless ever grow more sedate.

With primary school graduation done and dusted and three teenagers in my nest, my restless self yearns now more than ever for adventure with my kids at the highly portable stage of their childhoods.

We are but teenagers at 13 and adults at 18.

That’s just five short years, and I have three of them inside that window now, so I am perpetually aware of a quickly ticking alarm clock that will sound to signal my spawn can choose not to join the rest of the family on a holiday if they’d prefer not to go.

And the thought that that might be the favoured option makes me a little sad already.

This Christmas period has already highlighted how close we are to that.

My oldest is 16, and when I was done wrapping his presents to gift him on Monday, it struck me that next Christmas would be his last as a minor.

What if his ‘adult’ self doesn’t even want to spend Christmas with us the year after?

Of course, I’m confident he will, but I could never be sure about such a thing, could I?

And what exactly could I even say or do about it if my adult children made an adult choice when they were entirely within their rights to do so?

Nada, nothing, zilch.

We’d only been to Carols by Candlelight a couple of times in their lives until Sunday, but with the weather perfect for the event and no other plans on the night it fell this year, I also felt compelled to take them before their childhood vanished.

Hoping to replicate that warm, fuzzy feeling of Christmas spirit, my babes singing along with wide eyes glistening happily in the glow of candle-torchlight, I realised within about 15 minutes of being there that the ship had sailed too when no-one was singing and they all had some questions for me that indicated they were not really feeling it.

“Do we ‘have’ to stay for the whole thing?”

“Can we go for a walk?”

“What is that smell? Did that kid s*#$ himself? Can we move?”

“Or we could just leave?”

“Can we go and look at Christmas lights instead?”

So, that’s what we did.

I mean, I didn’t cry about it.

I actually laughed.

I tried, and I learnt.

I’m sure they’ll want to go again when (if) they have their own kids, and, if I’m lucky, I might be invited to join them when our family’s carols magic can be restored through the next generation’s eyes.

But despite being more portable creatures now than they’ve ever been, teenagers come with other anchors that make adventuring (in the traditional sense of the word) difficult.

Schooling gets a lot more intense, so you can’t just pull them out mid-term willy-nilly for a jaunt across the countryside; you must holiday in designated school holiday periods — when everyone else is, too.

Then they get part-time jobs, and if they are to get any hours at all, they must be available outside school hours — which happens to be outside Mum’s work hours, too, so your downtime clashes.

All of a sudden, your kids aren’t as portable anymore; you’re at home, a little restless, because you’re in, out, in, out, taxiing kids around and can’t even seem to get all the house and yard work done in a weekend, let alone that and an adventure.

Chuck a driving lesson or two in there, too, and there’s even less room for leisure.

I am not complaining because these things are vital to teaching the life skills that are not taught at school.

So yes, it’s all wonderful for them, and as parents, we do so much of our living vicariously through our children, so I could never be upset about the good things that come by.

However, as my own individual self, I sometimes feel almost as confined as I did when I had small babies who needed three-hourly feeds and multiple naps a day.

It’s another full circle moment in childhood, like the full circle moment of life, finding yourself wearing nappies and being spoon-fed in the end, the same way you started.

Okay, so maybe that analogy is a little extreme to relate to our current situation — I am known for being a touch dramatic at times — but passionate, excitable (and restless) humans need to put that energy somewhere when they can’t move.

School is an adventure, and there are many adventures within school.

But all we have left to get through now is the ‘higher’ of the variety.

Congratulations to all the region’s graduates: primary, secondary and beyond.