It was dark as I walked towards his bedroom door. I stood in the doorway and heard the biggest, snortiest snore ever. Just one, then the gentle sound of regular breathing. I smiled, walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on.
That big, snorty snore tells me all is well with my boy. He had a really weird day yesterday with yo-yo levels so I worried about last night. My husband had done a 3am test.
Only in a house with a Type 1 child would the middle of the night conversation be like this:
“D’you do the BGL?”
Who said romance was dead?
That big, snorty, teenage snore told me all was well, my boy was fine. Another day begins! I hope for a better day than yesterday!
Parent teacher interviews last night. Great to hear that these teacher’s know my boy. I know that our beloved educator is going to do a talk to the staff soon. Last week we had a near miss and the lack of awareness could have come at a huge cost to my son’s health.
It has all been a reminder to us of how vulnerable we are when we send our children off. We hope that the teachers remember who our children are and what they need to do for them: it’s usually nothing but when things go wrong we need them to have a minimum amount of knowledge. I thought I’d been proactive but that was not the case.
I know this job. I’m a teacher too. This makes it even harder as I know what a tough gig teaching can be. I feel conflicted but making sure my boy is safe is my priority.
I wrote this poem at the start of this year when my son returned to school after the holidays. All my nieces and nephews in the Northern Hemisphere head back to school soon as we edge closer to our Australian summer. This is what I’d really like to say to the teachers.