Today I felt proud.

Proud of my little humans. We were sat in Costa, just enjoying each others company somewhere other than our house. Henry was sat nicely eating the crisps he’d chosen and drinking his chocolate babycino. Archie was sat on a big chair eating the snacks I’d brought for him. I had a mocha and almond croissant (my weakness!)

I looked across the table at Henry and I didn’t see a baby, or even a toddler. I saw a little boy. I’ve spent so long battling with him lately that I haven’t noticed how much he’s grown up. He was talking to me, telling me about the people he could see and drinking out of his mini cup. I remember when this boy was a newborn, snuggling into me. His whole world revolved around me. He needed me. Sure, he still needs me now. But nowhere near as much. He is fiercely independent. He puts his shoes on himself and he wants to put his cups and plates in the sink. He feeds himself and can drink from a proper cup. When did this happen?


As for Archie, he turned one on Saturday. Why did that first year pass by so quickly? In all honesty, I’m glad his first year has gone. He isn’t an easy baby and my ability as a mother is tested every single day. But despite that, I miss the newborn stage. The stage with “that” baby smell, sleepy cuddles all day and tiny baby clothes. He’s climbing all over everything now. Standing unaided. Moving up into his 9-12 clothes and definitely knows his own mind!

I’m struggling so much at the moment (more about that another day when I’ve come out of the other side). But moments like this helps me get through. Most days I feel like a failure. Like I’m not good enough for these fierce and headstrong boys of mine. And then a moment like this reminds me why I need to stay strong. They still need me, not in the same way. But I’m their mother. They’ll always need me.


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