I was informed yesterday that Number One Son (NOS) is scheduled to move to a different base room in his nursery. The lady who informed me of this fact also pointed out that in less than 2 years he will be going to school, a statement that I was just astonished by.
You see, it can’t be right. My little boy was just like this – like, I don’t know, maybe something like – last Thursday and now you’re telling me he’s going to school in less than a heartbeat?
How did this screaming, vulnerable, milky smelling, needy, fragile little creature who was so new to me and the world turn into this joyful, cheeky, clever, courageous little boy who brightens up our home and our days without fail?
And how did I turn from an unsure, bewildered, puzzled and worried girl who second guessed every tentative decision and checked thrice nightly for continued breathing into the proud mother that I am today, able to detect and diagnose anything that is not quite right with my son without even thinking about it, with an ability to know when he’s up to no good, and so happy to stand back and let this little boy discover the joys of the world and be so glad to have swapped worrying for watching him grow and blossom each and every day? The motherhood switch gets turned on, but not at birth. It doesn’t come until much later but once its turned on there is nothing quite like it.
But, whilst NOS delighted in his visit to the “Big Room” with all the other big boys and girls and thrilled in demonstrating to me the simple joys that are to be found in an abacus, I still have that tug in my heart that says “No, he’s just a baby. Don’t make him fasten his own coat and make his own breakfast, lets just keep him inside for snuggles shall we?” I don’t want me my little boy to grow up and lose his neediness because that removes the need for me, and I’m not ready to be redundant yet.
But I know that there are many scrapes and escapades to be gone through yet where he will need a mothers’ guidance and many grazed knees that only a mother can help. I still have a son who tells me “I love you Mummy” each time I leave him at nursery and is not abashed to kiss and cuddle me in front of all his little friends. Long may it continue son – we’ve all done an amazing job of you growing up, but lets not rush it, eh?