this little girl
after months without it I finally have my beloved 50mm 1.4 lens back (Daniel managed to pull it apart and fix it – a painstaking operation) / Poet wears the cloche hat that I wore in my late teens when I worked at Alannah Hill in Paddington.
For the record, I wouldn’t recommend your child start preschool in the wintertime; it’s too much of a shock to the immune system. Alas, Poet turned 3 in mid-July hence she’s been at pre-school for 6 weeks now (and she’s spent 3 of those weeks at home). This winter has been a tough one (for everyone, it seems) and so as the germs slowly leave our bodies and our home, I’m ensuring I don’t get complacent when it comes to our health. When the sun does come out we’re straight out the door, soaking it up. I’ve had a pot of bone broth bubbling away on the stove non-stop and I’m making lots of fresh juice, chamomile tea and hearty meals. Whilst spring is just around the corner it’s still cold here, hence my mantra continues: put your socks on. Thankfully, on they stay, keeping feet warm and bodies healthy.
One thing I do notice about illness and children (especially when a fever is involved) is the rapid growth they subsequently experience. All of a sudden Poet is older and wiser, her speech has matured and her behaviour is, well, an honest representation of a three-year-old (albeit challenging for her parents). She has leapt into three and once again I’m left wondering where those years went, where the baby disappeared to. She revels in her independence, does everything her way and refuses to accept help or guidance from us. Beautiful and stubborn and not a care in the world for what anyone else thinks.I’m wary of how fast these next few years will go, how focussed I should be on savouring my time with her before she leaps, once again, into a new stage; at school age. When I feel like I haven’t been mindful with my one-on-one time with her I make sure we walk together. She sometimes runs ahead or lingers behind so whilst we’re rarely side-by-side it’s that one-on-one time that I love the most. It’s when she asks me the most questions and when I’m present enough to answer them with patience.
It’s easy to feel guilty with the second child; to compare their experience with that of the firstborn and realise that it’s been so very, very different. But it was always going to be different, wasn’t it? Not better, not worse, just different.