Crying with School Mums

We never outgrow the need for solidarity

{Photo taken by my husband as part of my concept shoot for my book of poetry and portraits on the grief and love of motherhood available here }

Let’s talk about school mums for a few minutes! Are you a school mum? School dad?

I recently caught up with a friend who shared about a recent school pickup with her toddler in tow. It was so chaotic that a school dad offered his help, which she gratefully accepted.

I was about to launch into some stories of my own (I had been thinking about this recently) but we were interrupted and never made our way back to the conversation.

I kept thinking about this shared experience that *most* mums have been through (except maybe that mum who always glared at me wrangling my second eldest down the corridor while I also had one in the pram and one in the belly) and decided to write down my stories. If they keep popping up in my mind, then maybe they need to come out onto paper.

I just want to say that school mums can step into our lives just at the right split second. Most mums have been there, and most mums can look you in the eye and know just what you need. In that moment in time.

I will write more about homeschool mums in a different blog (I had two whole years in homeschool circles in Adelaide) but for now I want to give a big warm hug to all the school mums out there (except, I’m sorry to say, the one who only glared. But now I think of it, maybe she was processing her own school pickup anxiety while staring at mine. At the time, all I could see was judgement and disgust).

I think that we often associate school mums with cliques and competitive nastiness, fashion wars and judgement. Sure, I’ve felt on the outer-side of cliques before, but on the most part, school mums are incredible and so much fun!!! We are all there twice a day (lower primary…I still haven’t met any high school mums) and get to stand around for a few precious minutes catching up before the bell goes or saying a quick hello as we walk to our cars after saying goodbyes.

When our boys were at a school in Southern Adelaide, I was just starting to get to know the other parents, coming in late as the new family. I vividly remember the stressed state I was living in. I had five boys by then, had just homeschooled for two years (the second year was through covid and bought a whole lot of isolation and social anxiety) and was coming to terms with the overwhelm that was tipping me over the edge. I was in survival mode and when my 4^th boy stated pre-school, he also started screaming at drop off.

Anxiety and separation are whole other topics that I could discuss another time, but I won’t get into them now. I was also very fragile and not coping with the drop-offs. I clearly remember walking towards the school and for some reason a gate was locked, and I couldn’t get in and I just started crying. My child was crying, I was crying, parents were starting to look, and then a mum who I barely knew (but sort of knew) came and hugged me. She took my child into school for me, she took my phone number and in that moment in time, she held me.

I got back to my car and she had messaged to check in and see if I was actually okay, and to offer support. The love I received in that moment was so unexpected and the solidarity I felt was unsurpassed. She got me through. She saw me, she held me, she validated me and she understood me.

Us mothers have an understanding, we get it. I don’t mention fathers as much because I’m not a father…but I’m sure that they get it too. Raising kids is hard. Sometimes it’s too hard. Sometimes it’s not hard at all.

{Photo taken by me, for my book of poetry and portraits on the grief and love of motherhood, available here }

Let’s fast forward a few years to the start of school, at a different school, and one of my boys was experiencing separation anxiety. Every morning hit an emotional intensity that left me crying and low-level stressed for the rest of the day. It was something that the school support worker (and her support dog) was helping us with and pretty soon my youngest also started crying at drop off and I would leave the school an emotional wreck.

On one such day, I reached the carpark in tears, snotty messiness was starting, and I saw one of the kindergarten mums stopping at my car. She saw me coming and gave me a slip of paper with her name and number on it, that she was putting under my windscreen wiper, to see if I wanted to catch up and connect.

I’m about to cry just writing this…it’s still so recent in my memory.

Has anyone ever just stood up and said (with their actions) “you look like you need some help right now! I’m here for you.” ?

It is the most beautiful thing to experience.

Someone who also has their own full schedule but, in that moment, reaches out in understanding and solidarity. Sees a mum crumbling and helps to build her back up.

Looks into her eyes and sees herself, and reacts from her heart, to offer what she needs.

And that is what I needed. To feel seen and understood in my time of fragility and overwhelm.

And you know what, I also ended up crying in the arms of teacher that I didn’t even know, and I thought to myself, how am I here again?! How am I crying at school and not keeping it all together after all these years of growth?

But, my friends, we can be anywhere along our journey, with teenagers or babies, and still accept help from a stranger. It is humbling. I wanted to have it all together, but I didn’t. Maybe I still don’t.

But maybe I can look into the eyes of another mother and reach out my hand to her one day. I probably already have. But I just want to encourage and remind myself and you, to be the kind of school mum that builds up and creates community.

We all need it.

Have you been hugged by a school mum at drop-off? I’d love to hear that I’m not alone 😉

And I want to encourage you that we never grow out of it.

Much love,

Jessi x