My biggest fear 

Drowning. 
Sitting down on a Friday night after a hard week at School I would hear that terrifying tune from 999 Lifesavers. I have the worst memory but some things just stay with you. In this particular episode a girl with the longest golden hair I’d ever seen was sitting relaxing in a jacuzzi at a swimming pool. She was laughing and playing around going under the water and coming back up, until of course that time when she didn’t come back up, she didn’t break the surface laughing, she didn’t run her hair through those golden locks. Those golden locks had got caught in some filter system at the bottom of the pool.

 That’s when it started. The camera dived into the water to show her panic ridden face and her last breath turning into bubbles. Her arms flailing about, her mouth open wide trying to shout for help. It felt like a lifetime that she was under there, longer for her I’m sure. Eventually a man ran into the restaurant grabbed the sharpest knife is ever seen and cut her hair. Her beautiful golden hair was gone, that’s all I could think of aged seven. Nowadays I have a little flutter of panic every time I see a filter in a pool and double check that all of my hair is in the bun on top of my head! 

That’s not my biggest fear though, slightly higher than that sits the fear that most people dream of, turning into my Mother.

Now then, I know for some of you this will be hard to understand (and rightly so) there are so many people who (when I tell them I don’t speak or see my Mom) say ‘oh but she’s your Mom!?’. If you have a good relationship with your Mom you could never understand not seeing or speaking to her and so people assume it is the same for me. Well unfortunately, it’s not. 

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a sob story alert, I had the best of her when I was growing up. Every night after going to bed I would sit at the top of the stairs and shout down ‘I love you Mom’, to which she would respond ‘I love you too now go to sleep’. That wasn’t good enough for me, I needed the last thing that she said to be ‘I love you’ so I’d do it again, and again and again until finally she would just say ‘love you’ then I’d run into bed and go to sleep.

This is exactly what Isla-Rose does to me now, I sit with her, read her a book, kiss her good night, love you’s are exchanged but she will always, always have to be told again from downstairs. She tells me her with happy tears in her eyes her ‘heart bursts’ because she loves me so much. I totally understand her  because I used to feel like that, but now I feel it for my babies (and the hubby of course!)

It is something that I’ll never understand, how you can ‘fall out’ and choose not to talk to your own children just because they grew up. 

It is however something I fear, if she could do that, what if that happens to me. What if when Isla-Rose becomes a ‘strong independent woman’ (her words) I can’t handle it!? 

Now I may fear that but I know for fact that when I say I love that girl I mean it with every breath I breath. When that little girl looks at me and says ‘Mommy you are my best friend and I love you forever’ I see myself in her and I know that I would never take that love away from her, for any argument, any man, any amount of stubbornness.

Luckily even without a Mom or Dad I think I’ve done alright, well I have the best husband ever (that does put up with my inherited stubbornness) two beautiful children not forgetting the rest of my family and friends!   

Even that fear doesn’t top the list though. 

Time, time has got to be my biggest fear.

There are only two things you can guarantee about life, you were born and you will die. Everything in the middle is endless possibilities, education, friends, children, marriage, nothing is a certainty. 

When I was 18 I had this (what I called) premonition it was really probably a dream. So basically after this I had this feeling I’m not going to see past 30 years. This was fine when I was 18, I was ‘totally cool’ with that, almost happy that I’d never have to grow up. 

Now at the grand old age of 28, running out of time is my biggest fear.

I read something last week from Constance Hall that rung true ‘the days are long but the years are short’. I have had times where I have wished time away. In the first few weeks of Teddy being born (mainly when Dan went back to work) I would sit and stare at the clock. It was 3pm, it’s ok that’s only two hours until he’s home I would think. After endless feeding, cutting, sticking, colouring, feeding, painting, being daphne from Scooby Doo plus a little bit more feeding I’d look at the clock again, 3.05pm. Time did not move during them few weeks. I was cherishing and enjoying every moment whilst wishing the minutes and hours away. 

So things quickly settled down, Teddy became (a tiny bit) less hungry, Isla-Rose realised there are times she would have to play independently.  Tammy (that’s my sister, she’s pretty incredible!) broke up for summer and all of a sudden time is moving faster than I can cope with.

I look at my children’s every changing faces and want to freeze time. I wonder where the last 15 weeks have gone since we had Teddy never mind the last four years with Isla-Rose. She starts School in two weeks and I can’t believe it. We went to see Mamma Mia a few weeks ago (after milking myself for two weeks to be able to go…it was amazing by the way!) they sing the song ‘slipping through my fingers’ as her daughter is getting ready for her wedding. I had tears in my eyes, me and the 60 odd year old woman sat in front of me were crying. Like full on melt down crying. 

I can’t help but fear that time will run away from us and even though I enjoy every minute, well apart from wiping Isla’s bum when she’s bent over touching her toes telling me she’s done a ‘sloppy’ one, I don’t enjoy that, I fear that one day I’ll look back and think where on earth did those years go, did I make the most of it? Did I spend enough time with the people that mattered the most?

So that’s that, if anyone ever invents a time slowing down machine please be sure to let me know. Meanwhile I’ll just have to get rid of all clocks and calendars. Or I suppose I could live every day to its fullest, make the most of every moment, enjoy holding these tiny hands whilst they’re still tiny, cherish the smell of milky sick on my shoulders, embrace Daphne, wipe that sloppy… OK too far!! 

I will try not to think about whats next but live in the moment and fingers crossed that moment lasts way beyond 30 year so!!

I’ll leave you with a little bit of Abba whilst I contemplate how I’m going to cope with sending my baby girl to school. 

‘Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile, I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness, And I have to sit down for a while, The feeling that I’m losing her forever, And without really entering her world, I’m glad whenever I can share her laughter, That funny little girl, Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute…’

Xxx

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