This is the photo I sent my husband after my little boy first started daycare.
I watched him as I walked out, catching glimpses of him through the gaps in the fence. He was with a teacher but he was looking for me, even though I had said goodbye.
I could hear “mummy uggle” (mummy cuddle) drift out into the carpark and my heart shattered to pieces.
I sat in the car for the longest time, waiting for the phone call. I had told them I’d hang round and to let me know if I needed to come back, but the phone call never came.
When I picked him up after what felt like forever (2 hours) I saw him playing with the same teacher and another child. It made me happy but at the same time I missed him. He’d only ever been with me and it was like seeing a piece of myself out of context, I almost didn’t recognise it.
And then he was in my arms.
There’s been some hard times, emotional drop offs (for both of us), ones where he’s come home with me before the day’s begun, ones where he hasn’t and I’ve called my husband bawling my eyes out. But along the way he has grown and made friends and I have learnt to step back a little so that he can step in.
And now suddenly we’re thinking about school, a uniform that screams grow into me, little legs and big shoes.
I hear people speak of their children knowing how to spell their name and hold a pen when they start. We have one more year, but I’ll spend it holding him closer I think.
The days of him being mine are numbered, and then I remember he never was mine, just mine to love and nurture while I share my heart with the world.
A toddler one day, a little boy the next.
My membership for the days of “mummy” is about to expire.
I worry about whether he will be ready,
But mostly I worry, will I?