It’s no big deal. Kids start pre-school all the time. She’s been at a childminder’s and then nursery since she was eighteen months old. So why, then, does it feel like such a milestone?

It’s that lunch box. I’m sure of it. 

As it sits winking at me from the sideboard, it tells me that I’m now the mum of a nearly-at-school little girl. My mornings will now begin with spreading sandwiches and packing a rucksack, not hastily throwing a nappy in a change bag and handing my child over to be fed and watered at nursery.

I have to sew labels into her clothes and do other school-type things, like be responsible for a book bag and take a pre-school diary home. It’s all very grown-up.

And, in the midst of it all, the relief that I’ll have some time back in the day to concentrate on work (and hopefully not stay up til 2am every night hitting deadlines), the pang of a finished summer and that lunch box. Sitting on the side, looking at me.

What if she can’t get the cling-film off her sandwiches? What if I make the wrong ones? What if she’s sitting in a room full of strangers, in an unfamiliar town that is not yet home, just wanting her mum?

Pathetic really, but that lunch box seems like a reminder of something tonight. A reminder of change and growing up and the life cycle of stuff.

And it’s just a stupid lunch box.

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Photo credit: CP Photography

Next month, my tiny baby will turn three years old. She is no longer a jumble of miniature fingernails and nappies. Where her head was once only covered in a soft down, rubbed bald where she slept, she now has loose curls and a fringe.

Those bendy little limbs are now long and strong. Any hint of soft pudge has disappeared, leaving a gangle of arms and legs that almost fill the bath when she lies down.

My baby is no longer a baby.

This week I had one of those moments. You know the one: it hits you like a jolt and you see your child as they are for the first time.

In a second, the lingering fuzzy haze of the baby you once cradled in your arms is wiped out – Quantum Leap style – so that you have to blink to recognise the growing child who sits before you.

In that second, my mewling, red-faced newborn turned from this:

To this:

On the “phone” during a dinner date with her mum.

And, in that moment, I glimpsed the teen that she will one day become.

Scary really.

The post Dinner date appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

This is a bumblebee I made with my toddler this week for her last ever tots’ music session. I wanted to make the effort to actually bother with the herculean task of crafting with a two year old, as this week felt like a bit of a milestone.

Not only has my toddler just had her last music session but, more importantly, she has had her last day with the two childminders who have cared for her, cuddled her and played with her since January last year.

Today has been a day of ends.

But, rather than feel sad for reaching the final twist of one journey, I’m going to focus on looking ahead to another. Frog has two weeks off over Easter and then it’s full pelt into nursery five mornings a week for the summer term.

Five mornings at nursery. Nursery. It seems so grown up. I don’t know how long this current stretch will last, due to our moving plans and various work commitments, but I do know she will both miss the last phase and enjoy the new one.

You blink and a year passes your eyes in an instant.

Eating a chocolate egg, one of many presents given to Frog by her childminder on her last day.

The post Flying from one era to the next appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I thought.

And then I thought some more.

And then I thought again.

Every answer I came up with sounded incomplete and contrite. “Childhood means splashing in puddles”. Nope, not quite right. “Childhood means wallowing in unconditional love”. Well, sometimes – but it’s not everything about the formative years. “Childhood means….”

I mused on the subject during our week away and I drew a blank.

Until tonight, when I was scrolling through my phone for inspiration. For me, childhood isn’t about one thing. It’s about a whole set of things.

It’s about cold treats on a hot day.

It’s about searching for shells on a sandy beach.

It’s about breaking all the fashion rules. And not giving a hoot.

It’s about wearing Sir Elton John sunglasses. And, again, not giving a hoot.

It’s about walking hand in hand with your hero.

It’s about climbing frames and peekaboo.

It’s about rummaging through your mum’s jewellery box and stowing away the shiny things, like a magpie.

And once the day is over, it’s about falling into a deep and untroubled sleep, ready to do it all again in the morning.

***

This post was written as part of a blog hop organised by Merry over at Patch of Puddles, to raise awareness of the plight children are facing in West Africa.

Hunger and poverty mean they’re experiencing a very different childhood, going through things most adults wouldn’t be able to deal with – let alone kids.

Just £1 could make a difference. The charity World Vision has until 30th August to make the most of a matched funding scheme, which sees the government double every single £1 that is donated.

That money could put a glint of hope into the future for many of the children who’ve lost their childhood in West Africa.

And then maybe they’ll get to sleep the sleep of busy, playful children. The sleep of childhood.

***

If you’d like to help raise awareness, feel free to join the blog hop. Simply choose a picture you feel best represents childhood (as you can see, I cheated with more than one) and write about it.

Then include the link:

https://www.worldvision.org.uk/giving-forms/single-gifts/*/giftId/62/

And tag two more people to join in.

I’m tagging -

Hello It’s Gemma

Honest Mum

Then tweet about it, share it on Pinterest, G+, Facebook and any other social networks you use, using the hashtag #LostChildhood.

All entries will be pinned to the WorldVision Pinterest Board and the best entries will feature on their blog too.

The post Childhood appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

One month today, my baby will be a little girl. A one-year-old. Big. Not a baby.

Every moment I look at her she’s changed – a new laugh, new scream, new babble.

I need to hold her close to me now, the baby that she is. Make the most of every second of her smallness. There’s only one more month of it left.

So here’s to one more month of babyhood. One more month of waking in the night, of decorating the walls with food, of refusing to crawl, of pooing on the carpet.

Sorry? What’s that Frog? “Fat chance?”

Yeah. Thought so.

[slideshow]

As always, beautiful pictures by Caroline Gue.

The post One month today appeared first on Mother's Always Right.