My eldest was ten last week.
I was 43.
My double digits don’t bother me anymore. I have made peace with my lines, I go for highlights to cover the grey and let’s face it, each day we get to live is a blessing.
However, ten is a milestone I can’t quite come to terms with.
I look at him and see a happy little boy.
One who is positive and cheerful all the time.
One with a passion for science and technology and who always wants to know more.
A child who doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, doesn’t know malice or jealousy.
Eddie is a boy I am proud to call my son.
Today I found some photos of the two of them when we were on a cruise several years ago.
Chubby cheeks, hair damp from the humidity, smiling with his brother and my heart broke just a tiny bit.
I miss those days.
OK, I don’t miss the tantrums and the double buggy toppling over from the weight of the shopping bags loaded onto the handles.
I might not miss the sleepless nights, the paranoia I was doing something wrong or the competition about whose child was developing faster, but I miss those days when they were all mine.
I don’t miss soft play or health visitors and I am pretty sure I don’t miss having sick in my hair or driving half way to Bath in a bid to get my teething baby to sleep.
But I miss my boys being little.
I remember when I was knee deep in nappies and in a state of shock after having Lucas and my sister told me that in no time they would be growing up and riding off on their bikes with their mates.
I drank my cold coffee and shoved more bottles into the dishwasher, nodding that I got it, but secretly thinking she was wrong and toddler time would stand still forever.
She wasn’t wrong, she was so very right.
It has gone fast.
Now he makes his own breakfast.
Chooses Nikes so he is like his mates.
Reads books that he loves, not the ones I pick up from the library.
Decides what to have for lunch as he lines up in the school canteen.
He is going to Cornwall on a residential trip this summer. He is excited, I am secretly terrified.
He has a mind of his own.
A brilliant brain.
He is a kind soul who I want to protect from the evil in this world.
He might be ten, but he often puts his hand in mine and tells me he loves me.
The world is his oyster.
But, he will always be my baby and I will never, ever stop loving him with a passion and protectiveness only me, his mummy can feel.
I love you dear Eddie but please don’t keep growing up so fast.