Friday, 6 August 2010

On love...

Do you find yourself forgetting how adorable young children can be?

When you're wrangling teens, it's a lot like herding cats, except occasionally cats are more obedient, more vocal, eat a lot less, and don't demand that you fill their cars up with petrol...

Grizz has returned from his hols in Zante, having a) with his gang of 18 mates, been pulled over by the Police on wrongful suspicion of assault b) being accused as a group of hitting girls, by a gang of 'Scousers' c) being robbed of $100 (circa 60 Euros, but I can't find the Euro button), by the owner of their hotel for dirt allegedly left by his mates on three pillowcases. He refused to give them back their passports unless Grizz paid up for all of them... d) having carried one of his stone-cold unconscious mates back to the hotel after a frightful night out e) having more new friends on his Facebook account than Paris Hilton f) having almost run out of money in the first week g) having, for the first time ever in his life, decked someone h) having survived...

I can breathe now, I find. Now he's back in Blighty.

And my colleague brought her sort-of grand-daughter, (her partner's GD), in to the office this week, and we oohed and aahed like only mothers can, at the antics of two year old Freya, who is oh so pretty, darling compliant, friendly, smiling, chatty and loving...

And we go right back into caring parent mode, do we not - I removed a dangerous stapler from Freya's hands as she roamed across the desk anchored by her reins, giving her a fluffy spotty material covered box instead, (our Suggestion Box, don't ask, it's never been used!) to play with and some assorted desk-top teddies...

When I left for lunch, Freya was tutored to say, in the most sweet voice, "Bye, bye Fhina!", between mouthfuls of chicken and ham from her lunch-box...

There was quite the lump in my throat.

It never really goes away, does it?

Our fears for their welfare.

Our caring about them and how they fare in life.

Our love...


  1. Oh, to just have to worry about removing a dangerous stapler....the bigger they get the more worries we have. No one told me how emotionally invested I would be for THE. REST. OF. MY. LIFE. I would become once I had that sweet little guy. *sigh*

  2. My thoughts exactly! You are a 'Mummy' till the day YOU die...not till they shack up on their own and give you space! No one warned me of that!!

    I have always thought that child rearing was a bit of a bugger! You just get to grips with dealing with a 2 year old....and they turn 3!! The three year old you've just mastered and damn me they turn 4!! And so it goes on..... :) wonderfully!

  3. I passed a little two year old having a complete hissy fit this morning. I know she was probably being a pain, and I could tell by the look on her mother's face that it wasn't in the least bit "sweet" but I still managed to say "Ah". (Mine never got that much sympathy BTW).

  4. My 16 year old also just returned from abroad so I really do know what you mean when you say "I can breathe now."

    I can even manage to smile about all the adventures, now that I know she's home safe.

    lovely post.