Dear Henry, At some point in the last couple of months, your face has changed. I noticed it in your back-to-school photo, and when I catch your face in repose in my rear-view mirror. Your face is thinner, older. You feel taller. You've just had a birthday, and now you are six. In your … Continue reading Two thousand, one hundred and ninety two
So anyway, that was the first week of school. H went back on Monday. My social media feeds have been full of kids going to school for the first time (and the accompanying parental meltdowns). It brought back last September for me in a great, vivid wave; I could almost taste it: the fear and … Continue reading Don’t worry, mama: the first day of school makes you cry for a reason
Dear Henry, Today is your birthday, and you are five. You are asleep, finally, after an exciting day where you have made all the important decisions: bacon and waffles for breakfast, a trip to London to visit the 'dinosaur museum', hot dogs and milkshakes for lunch, episodes of Transformers Rescue Bots for an evening … Continue reading One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six
September. July. It's done. It's all done. There I am, waiting at the school gate for the last time in his first year, next to women I have come to love. And here he comes in a queue of friends, crumpled book bag slung over his shoulder, shirt filthy and untucked, skinny legs tanned in … Continue reading September. July.
This is it. Don't get scared now. I was going to write about sending H off to school as though it were an ending. In lots of ways, it is to me. Our longest, toughest (? maybe?) shift together is done. No more nappies, night feeds, rhyme times at the library. No more chopping grapes in half … Continue reading Hello to all that (on first days at school)
September. July. Note the worn-through shoes, the yoghurt-stained jumper, the trousers that barely fit, and the general sense of a boy who has grown in every direction, more than I can fathom. Yesterday H had his new school visit, and today he went back for a final week at nursery. I came home and had … Continue reading September. July.
Teddy, Today is your birthday, and you are two. Your day is supposed to be over, actually, but you haven't yet given up the good fight: I can still hear you bouncing and yelling in your room. Most of the street can. You have two volumes: the cracked little fake-sorrowful voice you put on for … Continue reading A letter for two
Time passes. Everyone told me it would, but of course I didn't believe them. How could I? The space inside a minute with a newborn seems so very long, because you're awake nearly all the minutes there are. And there are some images from the brand-new days of my babies that I can still see with … Continue reading The funny old thing about time
I've been thirty for a week and I'm not dead yet. I jest. I've been gently bemoaning my age as this birthday has approached, but my heart hasn't really been in it. The one small moment of panic I had in January, where I sobbed 'I'M GOING TO BE THIRTY AND I DON'T KNOW IF … Continue reading A manifesto for being an all-round good egg at thirty
Hello internet! Hello wider world! Hello, dear blog from which I have been absent a fortnight! I feel like I'm all rusty. Here, someone help me bend sideways. We finally got connected yesterday and, let me tell you, if you ever want to feel the First Worldness of your problems, go without wifi for a … Continue reading Movin’ on out