DSCF3876For the first 2 years of your lives we all lived together in our big house in the Midlands. The “big old house”, with the big old garden.

You don’t remember it. I do.

I remember how I was your full-time, stay-at-home Daddy. For your first year with Mummy, and for your second year by myself when Mummy went back to work, with reduced hours.

034I remember it all so well. You don’t.

I remember how I’d take you out to something fun most week-days. There was Baby Sensory, the brilliant groups at the nursery & the church, & the weekly home & away playdates. We played, we sang, we signed, we banged drums, we listened to stories, we painted, we got crafty, we got messy. Together.


I remember it all so well. You don’t.

At Gym Babes & Tumble Tots you climbed, you crawled, you ran; you became brave, agile & strong.

You took your first steps.

I remember it all so well. You don’t.

We had trouble getting you to nap lying still so nearly every day, twice a day – come rain, sun, wind, hail or snow – I’d take you out in your double buggy, walking the streets until you fell asleep, then back home again.

At night I’d sing 1 of you to sleep, then place you oh so carefully & gently in your cot. Although you’d both almost always end up in bed with Mummy.

I still remember all my songs; I remember it all so well. You don’t.

DSCF6029I remember our meals together. You were very messy! On warm evenings we’d eat out in the garden. I would get so excited when you started using words, pointing at the sky & saying “Airplane!”. You started using simple sentences; we were so proud of you & so happy with you.

I remember it all so well. You don’t.

We loved to play in our garden. We played with water, we scribbled on the walls with chalk, we watched the birds, we explored, we sat, we ran, we talked. You were so good at finding, picking & eating all those blackberries: you could do it so well & for so long!

I remember it all so well. You don’t.

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Such a cruel irony of parenthood to have such precious memories, but to have them alone; not even shared with the very ones who made them.

Then you were 2, & we moved here to Wales. Into our cramped little house, meant to be just for a short time but where we were stuck for over a year. The “red door house”.

For the first time in our lives you spent time away from us, first with Karen to get you ready for pre-school, then at pre-school itself as well. As the months went on you spent more time there & less time with us, with me.

There was a great playground nearby, & I’d take you there so you could burn up some energy before bed. You’d scoot there & back & it was great. There were blackberries on the way; once again you found, picked & ate them.


This time it was different: I hurried you up, tried to stop you, because “you won’t have time to go to the swings / it’s getting dark / you’ll miss your dinner”. Instead of marvelling & enjoying, sharing timelessly with you, I found myself nagging.

Now you’re nearly 4 & at pre-school, full-time, 5 days a week. I see you & spend time with you much less than I used to. I’m getting back into a work routine.

You’re amazing: you’ve grown up so much. You can count, you know your letters, you are trying to read. You sing beautifully & in tune, remembering words & actions, & you dance, even to a hall full of parents. You run, jump, climb, swing & scoot. You’re painting, colouring-in, drawing & crafting. You’re sociable, really good talkers. You’ve got much better at being naughty; also at being good. You’re smart. You can outsmart me, and you know it!

I love you now as I loved you then, & as I’ll love you tomorrow. I’m so very proud of you.

But I miss the blackberries.

mummy mishaps

Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall

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21 thoughts on “Blackberries”

  1. Beautiful memories from when they were younger with so many years of wonderful memories to come too. Lovely photos of lots of outdoor fun together, thanks for linking up and sharing them with Country Kids.

  2. awwww this is such a gorgeous post and i love that it is written from a dad’s point of view too. I may have even got tears in my eyes at your final sentence. i know what you mean about hurrying them and then wishing you could take it back and slow time down. Burton is always wishing it was this or that (in the future) and i say please don’t waste time away it is going by too fast as it is. But, of course, he does not understand what I mean.
    thank you so much for linking up x x

    1. Thanks for reading, & thanks for really getting what I was trying to say! I fear the point may have been lost with the detail & the pictures. And thanks for your great linky x.

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