1 August 2013


Image source Mother

August. Already.

When did that happen? Time seems to be disappearing, moving too quickly. F is rapidly approaching three and then there is pre-school. Yesterday as I battled town, dashing from shop to shop while F sat patiently for all five minutes before demanding freedom from his pushchair, I searched for the items needed for F's pre-school uniform – yes that's right, UNIFORM.

Yet while I am getting my boy ready for his next big step, I seem to have neglected myself. Am I ready? He still seems so small. I'm suddenly panicked at the moments I won't have with him, and although I always wish for my own time, it seems that time is something that no-one has. It passes whether we like it or not, whether we are ready or turn a blind eye. And just like that he'll be in school/university/traveling/married. He will have left the nest. Ok maybe I am being a bit crazy but looking back at these almost three years, and it feels like the blink of an eye. It is hard to remember all the little details I thought I would, and hell, I never imagined myself at 33 but here I am.

We arrived home disheveled and F tried on his uniform. A huge lump settled in my throat and I made a decision there and then that the husband will come with me to drop F off at pre-school, because I think I'll need someone to hold my hand.


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