If you could just learn to walk you wouldn’t be so heavy.
If you could just tell me what you wanted to eat I wouldn’t waste so much food.
If you could just understand that I won’t take very long you might wait for me a bit longer.
Sometimes, I catch myself wanting to speed up time (if only for a moment), thinking to myself ‘if you were just that little bit older….’
These were the thoughts I wrote when Costa was less than a year old and they are a great lesson in moments and progression and of thinking too much about a time that will (and has since) come to pass.
Now you sleep through the night or near enough that I can’t remember what it felt like to wake at all hours, just to soothe you.
You cry but for things that I now know the remedies to and the plunket line is no longer a cry for help on our fridge door.
I am clued up and more equipped now that you are older and I find myself staring at you and then at the baby you once were thinking how did this happen? When did you get so big?
But still, we can’t go back.
We are where we need to be and if we need to be any further along on our journey it is only (if I’m completely honest) to make my life easier or to allow me more sleep or it’s to make my trying day go faster.
But you are here to teach me patience.
To teach me to switch off. To let go, to stop thinking too much and too loudly about things that don’t really matter and get back to the heart of the matter, that is You.
You growing up is the reality of what I thought I wanted coming to pass much sooner than even I thought (or at times even wished) it would.
There are so many things to love about every age and stage but wishing away the sour stuff is inviting the sweet stuff to pass by much sooner too.
And actually I want it all. The hard times that teach me so much about myself (that I still need to learn) and the good times that I cling to for when I am no longer your favourite place.
You are a mystery. You are my sweet not-so-little-anymore mystery.
The future will be here soon enough, you are mine today.