She gets in from school and runs upstairs. Plays in her bedroom.

My little buddy who would sit with me and tell me stuff wants to “be alone”.

I feel a bit lost.

Like the other half of my double act has done a runner.

I go up to see her.

“What are you up to?”

“oh, just stuff. Y’know. STUFF.” (she then hides a piece of paper under the bed that she doesn’t want me to see)

Oh god, the little girl that wanted to show me everything has turned. She now has her own ‘private’ stuff and I have to respect that.

I check everything is okay, that everyone was kind to her today and that nothing has made her upset. She confirms all of these things are good.

So I leave her to her play. I sit downstairs and I’m on the computer again. A bit like how I was when she was a baby having a nap.

Except this time I’m not blogging about those first movements and things she does, those little milestones. I’m blogging about the start of her not needing me as much. About the point leading up to the point I don’t blog about her any more.

About her growing up.

Which, by the way I’m absolutely fine with. As long as she still gives me cuddles and comes to me when she needs to talk about something.

Which takes things full circle. It all becomes about me again. A bit like how this all started, where it was about me and how I wanted to become a mum.

Then I did. But I didn’t. But I did again and this time she grew until she became H. She wasn’t to have that much-longed for sibling.

Which feels like a good place for this blog to have a rest for a bit. To come back when there are things to write about. Because there is always something to write about. They just live in different places at the moment.

That’s okay too. I’m okay with that as well. I’ll be back.