What do I want for you?

As your Mummy, almost all of what I do is related to my wider vision for you. It's not written in the stars or carved in stone or something I am outwardly trying to achieve. I just keep it carefully wrapped up in a soft muslin cloth inside of my subconscious, it's essence seeping through in my words and actions. It isn't a collection of definitive plans but a gently swirling pool of hopes and dreams which manifest themselves in the things that we do together.

Tonight we walked home from the pub after dinner ~ The Brinkley Lion, June 2014

We spend many weekends in Cambridge when we always go to the book shop. Book shops are my haven. Packed full of little gems. Stories, pictures, words, adventures, facts, hopes, dreams, lives & achievements. Nourishment for the imagination and the mind laid out on paper and encased in an intriguing cover to entice you in. Books will help you to see the world through other people's eyes and to expand your imagination. I've been bringing you to book shops since you were a baby and they are now where you now curl your little legs up under you in the big chairs and carefully choose between 'The Yeti & the Bird' and 'Mr Trouble'. A big decision. You should take advantage of the one thing that I will never say you have enough of.

And sometimes we go for a walk in the countryside around our village. We have started taking our notebook so that I can write down everything that we see. Your excitement for shouting out something that we don't have on the list is very sweet. And you pay so much more attention to your surroundings in the eternal quest for a longer list. "White butterfly Mummy!" you squeal. "Black sheep Mummy! Field of wheat Mummy! Yellow buttercup Mummy! Gate in the field Mummy! Mole hill Mummy! Horsey Mummy! Blackbird Mummy! Write it down Mummy. Put it on the list!" 

I want you to appreciate a sunny day. To appreciate the beauty in our surroundings and to enjoy the simplest things in life like exploring the furrowed passageways through a green field of wheat. "I hope we can find our way out of this field Mummy. Or we might have to sleep here without our warm comfy beds." You don't appear to be the adventurous type but time will tell. I love to watch you challenge your fears with such concentration, talking your way through your own complex myriad of apprehensions. "If we had to sleep here Mummy, we wouldn't have any dinner would we?"

More than everything, I want you to grow up believing that life is for living in and not just for existing in. I want you to challenge yourself, to express yourself and to make an effort to enrich your life through learning. Never stop learning and always try things that scare you. You will get the most fulfillment out of achieving things you thought you couldn't do. I believe that so much of what I can see you becoming will come from who you see me being. You baby, are my constant motivation to get fit, to stay healthy, to constantly challenge myself, to expand my horizons, to care about our society and to be someone that you want to be like. This stuff was all in me before you came along and I will never stop being thankful to you and my overwhelming desire to inspire you which has bought a lot of it to the surface.

Before your swimming lesson tonight

"You are never too old to set another goal or too dream another dream" ~ C S Lewis

"Don't turn into a lemon Mummy. I wouldn't like a lemon for a Mummy. Unless I was an orange. Then it would be fine." ~ Molly Rose High, June 6th 2014

Dear Molly, tonight you were sad...

Being your Mummy is not always rose tinted. But that's life. Tonight was one of our more challenging evenings as tiredness caught up with you. Because you're little you can't walk as far as me and I have to remember that your emotions are the same. Your tired state meant you couldn't cope with "no" or "bedtime" particularly well and tonight it brought on a tantrum. 

Your little tantrums have the same phases regardless of the cause. Feet stamping-shouting-fake crying-me getting annoyed-real tears because Mummy's sad-lengthy recovery from the whole episode-hugs and repeated "that's why I love you Mummy"s  so as not to leave me thinking that this whole affair was because you didn't. Well, for the record, I love you too baby. Somehow even more when you have a tantrum because I want to reach out to you. To make you better. To dry your eyes. But I have to accept that, sometimes, you just need to work it out yourself. That's the best way to deal with your problems I know that. I also know that I can't fix everything but I will always be here when you're ready for a cuddle and will try to make you smile again.

You calmed down and through the last of your sniffs and sobs you told me that you did "want to be an explorer and think of all the animals who live in the sea Mummy". It's your favourite bath game and five minutes earlier you didn't want to do it "that's why I am too sad Mummy." I was glad your sadness had subsided enough for normality to return and was delighted when your sad little face turned into the tiniest of smiles at my, frankly quite poor, octopus impression as we duly thought of all the sea creatures we could. 

And all warm and dry in your pyjamas you climbed on my lap and asked if we could read The Smartest Giant in Town again. We read it last night when you weren't sad and I think you wanted to recreate that feeling by reading it again. I sometimes misjudge how much you take in. I think my stories just entertain you for that night and that you just look at the pictures but you really do listen. Tonight you made me stop at the end so you could tell me that "his shirt is on a boat as a sail for a goat. His tie's a scarf on a cold bee(gi)raffe. His belt helped a dog cross a bog and his shoe is a house for a mouse." And then you declared how kind George was and how all the animals were really happy now. I told you I was really happy too and we had a big cuddle. You made me sing the "sunshine song Mummy" (a last bit of reassurance that everything was ok) and I tucked you in to your little bed with Right Bunny and Teddy. Sweet dreams sweetheart. I love you moon and back million times. 

Mummy x

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away" ~ You Are My Sunshine, Jimmie Davis & Charles Mitchell (1939)

Dear Molly....

This is a letter for you to read when you're bigger and for me to look back on in years to come when little details of our lives may have faded from my memory. 

For a lot of years I didn't want a baby. I was busy with work and didn't feel grown up enough to look after a little person. Then one day, I did.

From the moment you existed to the present day you have been my insides, my everything. It feels like I gave birth to a part of me that I now have to keep safe because without it, I'd die. It might sound a bit dramatic but it's nature. Parents get swept away in a tidal wave of love. And that happened to me, with you.

Somehow you manage to make me laugh and cry with a perfect mixture of your wonderful, gentle nature and your very serious two and a half years of life experience. You might not still have her when you're reading this but now you have a comforter called Right Bunny (there was a Wrong Bunny once too) and you cuddle her when you're sad, tired or scared. We had a lovely chat together about her the other day. It went like this:

You: I want Right Bunny Mummy.

Me: When you're bigger you won't need Right Bunny so much.

You: But I could hug her with my big girl hands.

Me: Yes you could darling.

You: Now I will hug her in my little girl hands.

You understood the essence of growing up and you summarised it perfectly in your two and a half year old way.

You question everything and the amount you're learning amazes me every single day. The other day you recited the whole of your book 'I want my hat back' to me. You remembered more of it than I did and I read it a LOT! 

I love reading with you. When I read 'How to catch a star' you get sad for the little boy when he can't find a star and then you're delighted when he gets one of his very own. You wanted a star of your very own so I made you one out of foil and card. Now, whenever I finish the story, you proudly tell me that you have a star of your very own and that Mummy made it for you. I'm glad I could do that.

It upsets me when people close to me are hurt, scared or sad. That feeling has increased tenfold in relation to you but, more touchingly, I see that trait in you. You cry when other children cry. You get distressed when the penguin gets left on his own at the South Pole in 'Lost & Found' and you stroke him on the page. And when I am sad you rub my arm and say "don't worry Mummy". Your capacity to care and empathise is something I'm so proud of.

We like to sing You Are My Sunshine, Maybe Tomorrow (from the Littlest Hobo which was my favourite programme when I was little), Incy Wincy Spider and Twinkle Twinkle (you call it Binkle Binkle). Your singing is very sweet. I love that you can sing along with me to Baby Mine. A sweet reminder that I've sung it to you nearly every day since you were born.

I will never tire of your little face, your crazy curls, your high pitched voice, your constant chatter and your lovely nature. I feel like bursting with love for you every minute of every day.

None of this is unique and parents everywhere will feel exactly the same, I'm sure, but it is unique to me and I wanted to tell you.

Lots of love Mummy x

"Baby Mine" 

Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
never to tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,
they'd end up loving you too.
All those same people who scold you,
what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your head down to your toes,
you're not much, goodness knows.
But, your soul precious to me,
sweet as can be, baby of mine.