I’m exhausted, my feet are throbbing and my eyes are dropping, but I’m sat here, during ‘my time’ – (Mum translation: the time of the day when the children are in bed, the chores are done, and you slump on the sofa in a hot mess with a LARGE glass of wine, and wonder how the bloody hell you managed to get through the day with your toddler screaming in your face for putting your hand in the wrong position on the trolley in Tesco) – scrolling through pictures of Beau on my phone, missing him so much that it hurts.
I miss his everything – the way he shouts “Mamma” at me to get my attention, the way he smacks me over the head with his toys, the way he looks at me before he does something naughty and then does it anyway.
The more my inner monologue analyses the ups and downs of parenthood, the more my maternal heart hurts for the smallness that is quickly slipping through my fingers. The smallness that was once in the form of a tiny scrap of a baby boy, with a thick mass of black hair, that had so much to learn, so much growing to do, and so much love to give. And now? Now I look at Beau and see him far too quickly turning into a proper little boy, who has already learnt so much, who has already grown so much and who is loving more and more every single day.
At this stage of toddler-ness, the hard days are HARD, but the good days are bloody brilliant. And even on bad days, I still find it hard to believe, accept or articulate how incredible it is to be his Mum. Why did he choose me? I don’t know…but one thing I do know is that this big tornado of a toddler, who in the grander scheme of things, is still so tiny, but who’s spirit is absolutely humongous, deserves to be loved more than anyone or anything has ever been loved before. With every bone, fibre and breath in my body, I’m going to love that kid – in this life, the next and the one after that.
Beau – you have made me the person that I was born to be. Thank you for choosing me to be your Mamma, and I will love you endlessly for ever and ever.