November 27, 2011 posted by note3793

I will…

I will sit on the toilet one day and not have to look for the toilet roll. It will be in the holder and not rolled halfway across the bathroom floor because it’s fascinating watching it unravel. The toilet seat will be dry and the bathroom won’t smell that odd smell when the toilet hasn’t been flushed for a while. The bath won’t have the coloured plastic scratches from toys and won’t be used as often as it once was…

I will pull back our duvet and there will be no cuddly Gruffalo, no lose marbles, cars, Buzz light-years’ and faded snuggle blankets bought in just before dawn to be left long after the cuddles have bounced out of the bed and the warm sheets have cooled. The crawling hand (‘Thing’) brought up from the Halloween party and left there to slightly surprise me every time I come through the bedroom door will be back in its cupboard only brought out once, maybe, a year. Our bedroom will be smart, tidy, free from all small boys clutter and ours once again and I will not see 6am on a weekend anymore…

I will drive a clean car and there won’t be an array of assorted clothes left on the floor of it. I won’t put a touch of makeup on using the mirror (just on the really tired days) just before getting out at school as the school run will have finished and I will keep my makeup on a dressing table in our house. The car will be smaller (faster!) cleaner and have no car seats for little boys…

I will have hot tea drunk whilst sitting and chatting. My meals will be sat with Hubbie. I will eat my own food not having to share with curious little ones. I will talk of important things and not have to say ‘just 2 more mouthfuls…’ I will always eat what I want to and I will no longer compromise and when small children visit I will have to search the cutlery drawer for the smaller cutlery that will have been put away but I will find it, they will be there…

I will leave the house when I want and take a lovely little bag. I won’t need wipes for when small hands find sticky things; a small packet of tissues for a possible cold is all I’ll need. I won’t have that emergency packet of crayons for when a queue is too long. I’ll pull out my wallet and not a spare nappy (much to the surprise of myself and a cashier). No-one will be brave and pay for small items with money I have given them. No-one will ask for my change…

I will watch whatever I want on telly. No-one will talk to me about dinosaurs, play their games console and talk me through each point scored. I will marvel at the dancers and shout at the talks shows but my voice will echo round the empty room. I may become ‘the woman who shouts at the telly’ rather than the mum who has watched toy story for the umpteenth time with son no 2 and has many more viewings to go with son no 3…

I will never read any book from ‘The Oxford Reading Tree’ again. Biff, Chip and Kipper will become a distant memory and I will laugh about the strange names with the men around my table and reminisce at the odd story lines for the sake of reading. Our kitchen table will be just for eating and not homework and my oilcloth may have even gone; that’s too difficult to think about now though. I will not have meetings with teachers in a termly fashion and reports of attainment and effort will not have to be discussed and plans for improvement put in place. I will no longer fight their corner, though I may do, just in a different way…

I will remember the sleepless nights, the endless nappies; the pain of teething and the joy of the first tooth. I will remember first steps, first tastes, first ‘I love you’s…’ from them all. I will remember tempers, arguments, cries of ‘it’s NOT fair!’ and those hugs that I felt would never end. I will remember the similarities but huge differences of brothers. The lost teeth (and forgotten tooth fairies ‘shall we email her to remind her to come..?’) the many magical Christmases -with yearly debates on the reality of Father Christmas. I won’t have to frisk small boys for fake weapons before leaving to visit a museum. I won’t have again that chat about not dissecting wasps and the ladybirds will become safe once again in the house. I will watch bats at dusk on a summer’s evening still, but on my own and will feel just that little bit lonely. I will remember it all but I know…

I will…..

…miss it.


  • I actually just cried. x

    • I did too! Oops… over tired from 5am start thanks to little one perhaps!xx

  • Remember & make sure your boys remember too. My Daddy passed away this morning & I’m trying to remember, trying so hard. The fry-ups on a Sunday morning; kippers or chicken livers that, when friends came to stay, only we would eat; the Chinese banquet that took he & me ALL day to prepare & was demolished in 20 minutes; how he carried me in his arms when I won the limbo as his office Christmas party & shared my colombines with him; the hours he spent rubbing my legs riddled with growing pains…. Keep the memories alive as long as you can. I now understand why my Dad told us stories of his childhood, & it’s now too late to hear more of them.

    • Oh Carol I am so sorry to hear your news. He sounds like a fabulous Daddy that I’m sure you are bursting with love and pride to have had and known. He will have left a huge hole but you’ve already begun to remember the family times that only you and he (and your family) shared. These times were special and as memories even more so. Why not, when you feel you can, write your memories of him in a special place so they can be passed down to those who will one day be curious. I wish I had with my Grandparents (I wrote a blog ‘An ordinary life’ about wishing I had done). Take care and thank you so much for sharing, Emma xxx

    • Thank you Emma. The best times we had together over the 5 weeks were in the various hospitals he was in. We made peace which is his greatest gift to me. That & telling me he loves me! Why do dads have so much trouble telling their children that? Maybe it’s just a generational thing. The Queen with Prince Charles springs to mind. xxoo

  • Love reading your blogs Emma, they’re so heart felt XXxx

    • Yes! Emma certainly has a way with words! :O)

  • Just gorgeous, it passes too quickly and sometimes you need a little reminder to enjoy the moment and forget the mess!! Gorgeous xx

    • So true! :O)

  • Emma … wonderful! Same exact story this side of the pond too LOL!!!!! Carol, that was beautiful!
    Emma … off to read it again … hopefully this time without interruptions from ‘the little people’!!!! Hehehehehehe! xx

  • You won’t miss it for too long – it will come around again when your grandchildren stay. I am just scrubbing the red crayon off the dining room floor and looking for the missing coasters in the living room. The french windows look as though a large dog has slobbered all over them and I’m shattered from being woken up at 5.30 am and having to do colouring until breakfast time so as not to wake grandad (who gets grumpy if he’s woken up too soon). But we love them to bits x

    • Ahhh that made me laugh Dawn 🙂 x

  • You never fail to make me well up Emma. Your writing is truly beautiful. xx

  • I really needed that as a reminder of the gifts little people bring! To read that while they are at school and I have time to reflect for just a moment was a gift in itself. Thank you.

  • I’m crying too. You write so beautifully.
    My three children are in their 20’s now and have all left the nest. I know those feelings and miss all of those things you describe so well. They will always be our little boy and twin girls though, no matter how old they are. Although we live a few hours away from each other right now and at times even on opposite sides of the World, life continues to be great as their parents. We are a very close family and have some wonderful times together. Bring on the Grandchildren! 🙂

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