a year one mumma

B. starts Year One today and, as usual, I have decided to make the day all about me. Just kidding. Kind of. Whatever.

I just don't know what is happening with my life. I'm twenty-nine. I have a five and a half year old in year one. This is my life now. It's really pretty darn wonderful but it's also really darn ridiculous. Wasn't it just a second ago that I had a little baby? I know it's the oldest cliche in the book but parenting really goes way too fast and I'm not sure I like it anymore. Can it slow down just a bit please?

I'm really proud of B. She's such an amazingly wonderful kid. She's clever and funny {even if she thinks knock knock jokes are hilarious} and really sweet and sensitive. She acts likes a grown up half the time. She uses adult phrases and rolls her eyes and stamps her foot and complains about things you'd never imagine a five year old would care about.

Basically she's me in miniature form. Except she thinks teachers should want to teach on the weekend if they really loved teaching. And she doesn't understand why school holidays go for so long. And she's already so much better at Math than I can ever hope to be. So there's that...

Last year, as she started her very first year of big school, I was in the midst of a nervous breakdown and was not ready to let her go. And now, well I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to go and I still miss her terribly but this school life is getting a heck of a lot easier {even if I am forced to help with boring homework}.

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