I can’t stop thinking about podgy arms this week. Wilfred is just clinging onto his cute toddler frame where his body length is disproportionate to his legs and it is all so squishy and delightful.
I gave his arm an extra little squeeze as I checked on him last night to try and bank a memory of how it feels. I wish we could drop a pin sometimes in a memory like you do on Apple maps to transport you back to that exact moment in time to relive it. Instead my memory seems to cling onto song lyrics unheard for 20 years over anything meaningful.
Do they go to bed one night with podgy arms and wake up the following day with long slender arms? Why didn’t I notice the day his older brother’s changed and give his one last squeeze before they were gone?
Time just seems to be flying at supersonic speed at the moment and I feel like I need to stop blinking to make sure I don’t miss anything. In equal measures though, I am so excited to start each new chapter of the book and watch them grow into amazing adults, so I feel like I am standing in the middle of a seesaw, trying to balance myself between the two camps.
As I excitedly plan the house clean for next week when they both will be at school, I am strangely grateful for an extra few days with them to fully soak in summer 2020 as a family of four, despite the summer holidays going on for seemingly forever. I know full well when the house is empty, I will sit with a cuppa and watch the clock all day, desperate to hear all about their adventures.
I guess that’s an occupational hazard though of being a mother. Sometimes we long for a moment on our own but we don’t actually know what to do with it when it comes.