I had a weird moment this afternoon.
Rachel and I were playing in the carpark near my house-she has her first bike.
I was watching her riding along, pleased as punch, on a pink bloody bicycle with a princess bell- and I just felt sick.
Not because she hasn’t mastered braking, and thinks riding into walls is a good way to stop.
While she rode, I was reading the letter from her new school detailing the uniform requirements, taster sessions, and introductory visits.
It dawned on me that this is it. In September she will be starting school. The baby who was still in nappies 8 months ago, and whose pram sits under my kitchen table, is going to school.
I felt sick. For about three seconds, I felt like the world was falling in.
How can I have wished away so much? I have spent hours wishing away time. Sometimes because I am tired, sometimes frustrated, sometimes just reminiscing about disposable income, no tantrums, and free time.
This is the last spring my baby will be at home with me, definitely no longer a baby.
Am obviously excited about this new chapter-but I really wish I had made the most of the old one, or known how quickly it would pass.
