This morning my poor baby has had to suffer an emotional snivelling mother burying my face in her beautiful soft baby neck skin whilst she looks on completely bemused.
Time goes too fast. Life is just too damn short. Soon my gorgeous little girl will be grown and off having babies of her own and I will never get this precious time again.
What caused my obscure bout of melancholy? A teddybear’s picnic.
At five this morning Miss Rose erupted out of every possible corner of her nappy, and as she was having a snuggle in our bed at the time I had to wake up her father so he could strip the bedsheets whilst I stripped the baby. Once naked and mopped up and the changing mat cleaned of all leakage she then peed. Everywhere. I grabbed my towel to soak it up and dry off the cackling baby and realised attempting further sleep was pointless. For me anyway, her father is contentedly snoring in the clean sheets.
Once downstairs I put on the radio, as I do each morning, and was confronted by the song “A Teddybear’s Picnic” and an instant barrage of memories. I’ve mentioned before Aimee-Rose who is Miss Rose’s favourite aunt, and I remember summers of childhood filled with her, her sister Hannah, her brother Tom and my brother Simon. We had picnics, made crop circles in long grass, played make believe games and climbed trees. It was so many years ago but feels so recent. I struggle to believe that I’m actually grown with a baby of my own. My childhood is gone, over. I welled up instantly.
To rub it in “We’ve Got All The Time In The World” rapidly followed and sealed my sobbing fate. We do not have all the time in the world and to imagine we do would be foolish, we’d miss out on these precious seconds that dash away from us. Writing this I keep looking down at my now unconscious child who is dreaming and cuddling my boob. Every moment that passes is a moment I will never get back, just as my mum will never get those moments back with me, and I will never get my own childhood moments back. My mum has described feeling like this to me before and until now I never fully understood. She’s a grandmother now yet the songs and games of her own childhood feel like yesterday and produce a similar emotional reaction.
It just goes so fast.
I hope that even when I’m annoyed about nappy explosions, exhausted from night time breast feeds, or wishing for time alone to do something as simple as paint my toenails, that I will remember those songs. Remember the fleeting nature of youth, the way life sneaks up and steals infancy from our clutches and leaves us grown with no recollection of how we suddenly got there.
All I can do is vow to try and make sure Miss Rose remembers her childhood fun like I do, filled with fun and friends and a smiling, loving mother who made me feel safe and warm. And lots of teddybear’s picnics.