Now You Are 4

My Little Whirlwind, you turn four tomorrow. Such a big and momentous moment for me, just another birthday as far as you’re concerned. My original plan had been to write you a post every year on your birthday, but, well I’m a bit rubbish at deadlines since having you and I’ve only managed one so far when you turned two, but lets not dwell too much on Mummy’s inability to commit to things shall we, we’re here to talk about you.

Olivia Bike

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The Fear

When you have a child, you get told so much. Oh my, so much information is thrown at you, either by yourself from reading books and online, or by professionals, friends, family and strangers. Everyone wants to reveal their tips and tricks to you. You get told how amazing it is, how exhausting you will find it, how babies are hard work, how times flies and how much they change. You get warned about the body changes, the sagging boobs and the slight potential change to the, erm, downstairs department and you get told about the stretch marks, but does anyone ever tell you about, ‘the fear?’ Let me just explain what I mean (sidenote: there’s no dramatic music when saying the words, the fear, although you can create if you want) I’m talking about that overactive imagination that kicks into gear as you’re trying to sleep at night, creating horrible scenarios from harmless activities or days out. Scenes are replayed in your head with alternative, horror endings. It’s all just tricks of the mind of course, but this parental fear wasn’t something I was prepared for when I became a mum.


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My Confident Daughter

I was battling with the kid this morning, like I often do. Silently begging her to stop scream-singing whilst waiting in a queue, quiet muttering at her to please stop kicking that person in front, please stop shouting at me, why Olivia, why do you have to be like this. Then some thoughts popped into my head, ‘Why is she like she is, why does she have to be like this, why is she so confident, why can’t she be like other children who just sit in the buggy patiently waiting’ and then, I felt a huge wave of guilt for daring to think this.  How could I think this? She is how she is, right?


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