This time next week and I am going to be a fulltime, every day uni student again. Getting up every morning as dawn breaks over the horizon in a clash of fire and fog; getting dressed in clothes made of fine European fabric with understated leather shoes and tailored dress shirts instead of tracksuit pants and a jersey; hair carefully pinned back and sleek with the sheen of lightly scented products instead of being pulled into a haphazard unbrushed ponytail; checking my dull navy classic handbag is packed with my filofax, mobile, notebook, pharmaceutical company pens and stethoscope; getting the girls ready and hustling to get into the cars with little pink backpacks and sunhats and special toys; rushing to brush LH's cheek with a kiss and checking who's picking up milk, bread and the chicken kiev that night. And all this before 8am.
I am terrified and excited at the same time. Things here have become so easy, so slow and meandering in pace and so happy. The girls are so lovely, watching them every day just makes me feel like a bowl of honey warmed in the sun, slow and sticky and sweet and golden. I'm not sure that I'm ready to give that up! I love the ability to put them to bed at night, stroking their silky warm heads and kissing their pale cool foreheads and knowing that they are mine. Knowing that I am the luckiest woman in the world, and to have no other worries. To then cuddle up to LH for a whole evening if we wish because there's nothing else to think about.Instead when I go back everything will be rushed, we will have no money (because it all goes to pay daycare), and I have to be away from my babies all day. It's times like this that I wish that I had no ambition, that I wish that I was happy and fulfilled being a SAHM and that I didn't care about ever buying a house or going on holidays. Right now I want to stay home with my girls. I want to be their Mum and the one that they spend all of their waking hours wiht. But that's the emotion talking, because the reality is that after a week of being that Mum I'm resenting it, and feeling suffocated and wanting to run far far away. So it's just the sentiment. But that doesn't mean it's not hard
The Elfling and I went and had haircuts last week. For her a Milly Molly Mandy do that has made her curls bounce up around her ears and shows off her slender ivory neck and makes her look at least 2 years older.She was so good while the hairdresser cut her hair, sitting very still and watching with big big eyes in the mirror as the curls tumbled to the floor (I have one to keep). She then had her hair lightly frosted with a glitter spray and the sparkles in her hair matched those in her gaze as she grinned at the reflection in the mirror. Her first haircut, it was like the final transition from baby to "big girl". I wanted to go and have a bit of a sob myself, but as I was held captive by a woman holding scissors at the time, I had to sit still and admire her while she clambered up onto my lap and chattered to me about the huge chunks of hair falling from my head.We went shopping with her on the weekend to buy her some new winter clothes (she outgrew all the Size 2s I bought at the beginning of the season) and we ended up having to buy Size 4s because the her arms and legs are just getting ridiculously long. She's actually skipped a size because she's growing so fast. The hardest thing is that she has no bum and is so slight that none of the Size 4s stay up unless they have that adjustable elastic that cinches and bunches and barely stays up on her slim hips. She's such a little girl now, there is so little about her that hints that she was ever my little baby. I just don't remember her ever being tiny. Last night she was really tired before bed and we sat cuddled up on the couch and it was like cuddling a whippet. But having that silky head on my chest and stroking her curls I felt a rush of love for her, this perfect, saucy, clever little girl that I'd forgotten was my first baby.
She gets very emotional sometimes, not quite past the baby stage of needing a nap in the afternoon (but refusing to have one), and we are very guilty of forgetting that she is only 3. A year ago, she could talk quite well, but it was still a novelty and we didn't expect her to understand everything (bonus and hilarity if she did when we weren't expecting it). Now we have to remind ourselves that she is still a very little girl. Even if she is a tall and chatty one.
The Monkey by contrast is quite quiet and observant, and is still tiny, described by everyone who meets her as "petite". In the last week she has learned how to clap and understands the word "clap". It's so adorable seeing her clap those teensy hands together with a big toothy grin on her face as we laugh at the gorgeousness of it. The laughing spurs her on and we spend long glorious moments clapping and laughing and sparkling.
Her hair is finally coming through properly now and it's much darker than it was. It still is shot with red, but is dark and will probably be my colour by the time she's 10. Her eyes are now completely brown, and dominate her tiny pixie face with its little snub nose and rosebud mouth. She still has no eyebrows (well they're there just so pale that you can't see them) and it gives her face a somewhat surreal look. But she is still the most gorgeous baby in the world to me. Her other new trick is one that she's started only in the last few days and that is to wave. It is so unbearably cute. She does it when I say hello and bye bye and the way her eyes light up when I do it back is just magic and makes me want to cry at the same time. My little girl is far too small to know how to clap and wave and to be taking steps between furniture! They're both growing too fast. I'm goign to wake up one morning and realise that they've both left home and that after years of plotting and planning that my babies are gone and they're never coming back