The Day I Sent River in Uniform

A Parenting Fail (Or Was It?)

So just a quick one tonight. I wasn’t planning on writing anything as it’s been a long week and honestly I’m very tired. But today I did a classic parenting fail and thought I should reflect on it.

Summer’s Cultural Day

At my daughter’s school they had a Cultural Heritage day (It’s Black History Month) so in one of their events they asked the children to dress up to represent their culture. I’m not going to comment on how this could be a tricky thing in our current climate in England, plenty of creative people with white sheets and a red pen…

Anyway… Summer has long grown out of her beautiful Colombian dress and she refuses to wear dresses anymore. So she chose her Colombian football shirt and jeans which I thought was perfect.

I’ll be honest after getting up at 6.45 with River, finding the ‘flashlight’ giving him breakfast, then waking Summer, making sure she’d been to the toilet, then that she was wearing her swimming costume, find her hat/goggles and make sure she had pants in her bag. I was impressed I’d even remembered that she was in different clothing. Off I went to work (a little late) but happy that I was on top of things. I can do this working mum thing.

The Realisation

Around 10.15am whilst I was working in EYFS, a horrible realisation hit me. Summer and River go to the same school. Non-uniform day was for everyone. I sent River to school in his uniform. A wave of panic, sadness and anger swept over me. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it’s non-uniform day for him too. He has a Colombian shirt as well.

The Teacher’s Guilt

Now, I think being a teacher has a lot to do with these feelings. As a parent I know the annoyance of ‘World Book Day’ and “Dress as a ….” for various different reasons and charities. We honestly plan these things because the children really love them and usually it brings a lot of excitement to the subject we’re teaching about. I also know the sadness of the child who arrives in their school uniform on that day. Only a few months ago I was running around my current school finding costumes from the cupboard to console crying children.

There are always children who don’t want to wear a ‘costume’ and they just come in their own clothes which I respect. I don’t spend money on my children’s costumes, I just don’t want to be the parent who just didn’t know, or forgot… And today I was that parent.

Talking It Through

Tears immediately sprung and as soon as I had a break I ran to my phone to message Kike. Crazy thoughts going through my head. I’ll run home on my lunch break and grab some new clothes and take them to school.

I message Kike.
“We sent River to school in his uniform!! It’s non-uniform day for him too!”
Simple reply (as always):
“Everyone was in uniform.”
“Are you sure? But it’s Cultural Day, we should have sent him in his Colombian shirt.”
“He’s 4 and autistic.”

That’s always going to be the response from my husband, he doesn’t waste time.

I spoke to my colleague (a very old friend) who could see I was upset.
“I know it’s upsetting you, but you know deep down, it’s not upsetting him. He doesn’t know and actually your morning would have been so hard if you’d try to send him to school in anything but his uniform.”

The Routine That Matters

They’re both right. The thought of explaining to River that he was going to Nursery in his weekend clothes would have been an absolute nightmare. His whole morning routine is centred around his uniform and that signals that he’s going to Nursery. If we change one part of that morning routine the whole day goes wrong…

I mean I probably would have done it, if I’d found the energy I would have done a ‘social story’ explaining why we’re not wearing our uniform to school for today. I would have gone through the screaming and made him go wearing his shirt.

But why? Everyone else was right. He is 4 and autistic. He doesn’t need to worry about it. I write about how we need to be more in River’s world and stop forcing him into ours and I was trying to do the exact opposite today. I guess I am guilty of wanting him to ‘fit in’ when he can and not make him stand out in front of his peers.

The Happy Ending

Turns out, no surprises to most of you. Not many children dressed up. Most children in Nursery came in uniform and River had a lovely day and is not traumatised in the slightest.

Looking Ahead

So what will I do next time? Will I force the issue, or let River carry on in his uniform? Honestly, I think this is one of those battles that isn’t worth fighting. For him, the uniform means safety, routine and calm. For me, it sometimes means a pang of guilt when the school calendar says otherwise.

But “wear red for racism” is coming up soon and that one feels different. I don’t want to send the wrong message or seem as if I don’t care. So maybe the answer is finding a middle ground: a red wristband, a pair of socks, something small that doesn’t disrupt his routine but still lets him take part.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about me doing everything “right” as a parent, it’s about River feeling secure and happy, while still showing him (and his school community) what we stand for as a family.

An Unexpected Gift

After a long day not just in my head, I collected the kids in the rain. Kike was stuck as London transport struggles with change in the weather. As I pushed a very tired and upset River to the front door (he doesn’t like rain) a box was sitting on our doorstep. Summer, very excited, ran to it.

“What did you buy?” she asked.

A flash of annoyance, I didn’t buy anything, so it’s not mine.
“It’s got your name on it.”

“OK!” River is screaming now.

“Let’s just get in.”

Summer puts the box on my bed and I get them both in, dry and make dinner. I return to the box a bit later and open it.

I burst into tears.

An old friend I met travelling in Costa Rica has sent the kids a Halloween box of treats. A simple message inside: “Enjoy your Halloween Season.”

It felt like a little reminder that even on the days I feel like I’ve failed, kindness has a way of finding its way to our doorstep.