I stand with the pushchair and watch from afar,
Quite literally stunned at how brave they both are.
As if you look closer, that nondescript dot,
sat next to my hubby, is my little tot!
The track climbs before me, up over my head,
My stomach’s in knots and my heart pounds with dread.
I watch as their coaster climbs into the sky,
Just how can my baby be up there so high?
I know she’s delighted and safe with her dad,
But a churning inside me is making me sad.
The tiniest rides used to fill her with glee,
And she’d squeal with excitement gripped tight on my knee.
But tot rides don’t thrill as they once used to do,
Grandpa Pig’s train’s somehow lost it’s “Choo choo”?
So now, there she goes.
With no whisper of fright.
Just a big cheeky smile and a shriek of delight!
The train rushes to me and hurtles straight passed,
And I try not to yelp out “SLOW DOWN!”
“Not so fast…”
The roar quickly fades and I’m left with my thoughts.
Feeling slightly unsettled and quite out of sorts.
I glance at the pushchair. The Boy’s still just one,
But a rush and a roar and he too shall move on.
Perhaps in these moments, the best thing to do,
Is to suck up the fear and just get in the queue.
To embark and embrace this mad parenting train,
and to shrug off those voices that drive us insane.
Climb in, by their side, and make sure they’re strapped in.
Take hold of their hands, let the journey begin.
And as time pulls us higher try not to shout “STOP!”
Just open our hearts to the view from the top.
To rejoice in the ride as they climb and they grow.
Take a breath.
… And let go.
This post originally featured on the fabulous Meet Other Mums blog page, for whom I am proud to be a regular blogger.