As my son takes steps that are more solid and his lips form words previously unspoken; as my daughter learns about the wonders of nailvarnish and develops the ability to beat me at Scrabble… as the years pass in the blink of an eye and the skip of the heart… I have to say goodbye.
I have to say goodbye to the baby years, the days filled with mummy and the nights filled with calpol. Not yet, but soon. Tomorrow.
I’ve come to realise that all I was ever supposed to do was to be their mother. Looking into a future without them is no future at all.
When the nappies are gone and the blankets are folded; when the stair gates open for the last time; when the delicious sounds of a baby’s laughter has faded into the distance… that’s when I’ll say goodbye.
Until then my days will be filled with sticky fingers pulling at my skirt and smeary handprints decorating my mirrors. Until then, may my nights be filled with tiny coughs and bellowing yells, pleas for drinks and demands for stories. May my weekends pass in a blur of gymnastics, swimming, parks and parties. May the weeks fill the calendar with play dates and school fetes and toddle waddles and all. May the years pass by, but slowly. May they always be my babies.