Chapter Ten

ZARA

 

A few days later, I jumped out of bed and rushed into the twins’ room. “Let me help you get into your uniforms,” I said. “You’re starting school today!”

“I’m a school kid,” Hannah said. “I’m a big school kid!”

Ruby responded, “I’m a school kid, too, I’m a bigger school kid!”

I laughed at them. I heard Renee walk into the kitchen, so called out. “Renee, we’re in the girls’ room.”

She came stumbling into the room, rubbing her eyes. “I feel like I just went to bed.”

Jacob padded into the room behind her. “Say ‘school’” I said to him.

“Cool,” he said, and the twins laughed.

“He said ‘cool’ not ‘school’,” Ruby said, giggling.

I laughed. “Here, let me tie your hair up.” I put Ruby’s long hair in piggy tails and I did a single plait for Hannah.

“I want my hair like hers,” Ruby said, pointing her chubby finger at her sister.

“You don’t want different hair for the first day, so they can tell you apart?” They both shook their heads in response. I redid Ruby’s hair.

“We’re still walking to the school?” I asked Renee, and she nodded. “I’ll jump in the shower.” Thirty minutes later, we were packed and ready to go.

“Quick, grab the camera,” Renee said, and I dug it out of the cupboard. We mostly used our phones these days, but we were fortunate the camera had some space on the memory card. Special moments needed the big camera. We snapped photographs of the twins, the twins with Jacob, and with each mother.

We then walked up to the school, with Jacob in the pram. The mothers from mothers’ group were there – Charlotte with Riley, Caitlin with Caleb, and Sienna with Olive. Sienna’s son Angus and Monica’s daughter Brianna were also starting grade one. They women gravitated toward one another and the husbands stood off to the side, all parents keen to meet the teachers. Feeling awkward, I walked over to Monica’s husband, Quinton. “Hey, how are you going?”

“Great, Zara, isn’t it? Or Renee?”

“Zara.” I nodded. “Good memory,” impressed that he had remembered both of our names, even if he couldn’t remember exactly who was who. This wasn’t particularly uncommon, I supposed.

“Sorry.” As I stood chatting to him, small talk, I realised I didn’t really fit into the mother community in the way Renee had. My absence from the daytime mother’s group had meant that they had gotten to know one another in a way I hadn’t. I didn’t really fit in with the fathers either, which was why I felt so awkward standing there.

“Brianna was so excited,” Quinton said, interrupting my thoughts and relieving me of my anxiety.

“The twins too. Oh, it’s so nice to see. Soon enough, they’ll be wanting to stay in bed, or not do their homework. You just have Brianna, don’t you?”

“Yes, one and done, I think. Though Monica wants another to fill her time now. I told her to get a puppy.” He laughed.

I laughed too. “A puppy is certainly cheaper than raising another child!”

“Yeah, maybe, but puppies these days are raised on organic food and all have little dog wardrobes and dog carriers.”

“Yes, no Vegemite sandwiches for dogs. Maybe you should have number two…”

“You’ve got three? Will you have more? Or get more?”

“I don’t think so. If we did, it would be a teenager, someone we could really help. It’s really hard to get placements for those kids, and I think we could make a real difference.”

He stepped back one step and started to look around. I kicked myself for letting the conversation get too serious.

“Anyway, three is plenty!” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Sometimes I look around the dinner table and wonder how on Earth we became a family of five.” He started to look more relaxed.

“Gosh,” I said, returning to neutral territory, and feeling like I was fumbling, “these classrooms are so modern. So much nicer than the classrooms when I went to school.”

“Yeah,” he said. “When I went to school you got a little wooden desk.”

“A pencil case, a few crayons.”

“And if you were really well behaved, a pen…”

“And now they have iPads, bean bags, and reading centres, and interactive white boards,” I marveled at the learning environment. “We don’t even have all of this at the uni!”

He laughed. “Yeah, when I was at uni, it was all overhead transparencies.”

“No, not these days…Microsoft Powerpoint all the way!”

“Death by Powerpoint,” he laughed.

Renee came and stood next to us, Jacob by her side. “I think the girls are comfortable. We can walk back home when you want.”

Thank goodness, I thought. I didn’t usually struggle with small talk, but somehow I was realising I really struggled with parental small talk.

 

RENEE

 

Within weeks, my new world of being a school mum was the new norm. Zara sometimes took the children to school on the way to work, but otherwise, Jacob and I would walk up to the school with the girls. Often, I’d catch up with Sienna and her girls Olive and Isla after school drop off. We continued weekly mothers’ group, too – much quieter with less children. Jacob would nap or have ‘quiet time’ in the afternoon and during his nap time I’d usually bake something nice for dessert or school lunches. Banana bread was my favourite, and I’d sprinkle oats on top, or top it with cream cheese icing if I felt indulgent. The children loved chocolate cake, or butterscotch muffins in their school lunches. I was really enjoying trawling through recipe books and internet sites to plan something new and I particularly loved challenging myself. Cheesecake had been my latest challenge and I’d tried both baked and non-baked cheesecake and experimented with different flavours. When Jacob would wake, I would pack the baking away, and we’d then stroll up to the school to pick the girls up, walk back home and I’d get dinner ready while the children bathed. In spite of the road bump Zara and I had experienced, the next few months went along nicely. Zara didn’t see Sam at all, and we didn’t discuss her. I didn’t pretend anymore that Sam and I were still best friends, or even friends, admittedly. I was enjoying Sienna’s company during the weekdays, and I looked forward to Zara returning home from work each evening. Life was domesticated and seamless. School notes, uniforms, washing clothes, cooking. It was just what I’d wanted in life and I was content. Zara still always asks if I’m ‘happy’, and I don’t think happy is the word I’d use. I’m content. I don’t think I ever really expected a ‘happy’ life, just not an ‘unhappy’ life. Zara was different – Zara seemed to want more excitement, more happiness, more energy. That was something I didn’t really understand. For me, it was easier to just enjoy life. As long as I wasn’t unhappy, then I’d be content, and isn’t that all that anyone ever expected in life? I’m sure that the idea of ‘happiness’ and seeking happiness was a modern thing. Did our mothers want happiness all the time? And our grandmothers? Nope, yet they weren’t on Xanax just because they weren’t always happy.

I sighed. Really the idea of happiness was such a modern society problem, and such a developed world problem at that! Zara often told me about the countries she visited through her work – the difficult lives that people led, carrying their babies for miles because there’s no public transport. Baby wearing during physical work, eating the basics – vegetables mainly, no ice cream or takeaway or even fancy grains – challenging jobs, limited housing. And simply just making do, enjoying the company of their community. And yet they were content, Zara would report. And still she was asking “are you happy?” or “what could we do to be happier?” or even “what would make your life more fulfilled?” It was the goal setting garbage of the modern age, wasn’t it? I was content to just have an easy and calm life, to have children I loved, to have a partner that came home to me every night, well…most nights. I didn’t need balloons and flowers, I didn’t need to do self-help courses, I didn’t need anything fancy. And actually I didn’t even need happiness; I just needed to be content. It’s simple to me, but different to her, and I pondered that.

Was one of us right and one of us wrong, or was it just that we had different expectations?

Maybe that’s why Zara had been so successful in her career – not because she was different from anyone else, but because she was always seeking ‘more’. Academia had held her attention because it allowed her to continually strive. I just wished there was a way of reassuring her that being content was just fine for me.