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So my big news is, apart from surviving the Man-Flu house, I am going back to work for the first time in 3 years.

I start next week.



I am having the odd night where I can’t sleep or if I do sleep I have vivid nightmares about a madman chasing me through orange groves, shooting me and trying to feed me to his dog.

So why the bloody nightmares and insomnia?

This could be for any number of reasons…

I am not returning to my regular preprimary (5 year olds) classroom. I have a challenging new position assisting Aboriginal students with literacy and numeracy problems in year 3 and 4 (8 and 9 year olds). I haven’t taught in big school for 5 or 6 years and I will be working in classrooms alongside the classroom teacher.

I could be these reasons but it’s not.

I am returning to the school I was teaching at 3 years ago so I know the majority of the staff there. I can use my pre-primary teaching resources to tutor the at risk students. I know a few of the students as I taught them when they were pre-primary students. I am a big fan of cooperative learning (Barry Bennett and Peter Smilanich are my heroes!) I am ready for some stimulation that doesn’t involve changing nappies and singing songs about vegemite toast and diggers (though I love this challenge dearly!)
So I am mostly cool calm and collected…

I have a lovely MIL who sent me an early birthday present of a gift voucher for a local chain store so I could buy some clothes to add to my preexisting wardrobe. Now I have a modest collection of 5 shirts (2 new), 4 skirts, 2 pairs of trousers and 5 ( if I am brave/stupid enough to wear heels) pairs of shoes (2 new pairs). Husband thinks I am turning in Imelda Marcos!!!!

So why the dreams and insomnia?


One word.



I have had nothing to worry about for the past 3 years. All my clothes have been covered with, at one time or another, poo, vomit, wee, weetbix, vegemite and snot. My clothes have been thrown on at the last minute and I have left the house, whether or not I have had a shower, brushed my hair or teeth, without much though as to how I look (or smell) to the outside world.

I consider my self relatively sensible. I am not a fashion victim.

So why am I losing sleep over wondering which of my meagre collection of clothes and shoes will mix and match???? Lets face it. I’m not Paris or Angelina. There will be no paparazzi waiting outside my door next Tuesday mroning waiting to publish photos of my fashion faux pax. 

All  I have to think about when leaving the house next week is that my shoes match, my clothes are clean and preferably I am not crusted with extract of  baby.



Wish me luck!