Throughout the life of this blog, there have been various posts lamenting my ability to be a 'good enough' mother to my child. I have written about her rages, her tonsil-rattling screams and her know-everything attitude but at the end of the day she comes home to me. After every visit with her dad, where at the beginning I celebrate my freedom to 'do' whatever I want, by the end of each visit, I can't wait to get her back. She is my little girl and I miss her. She had her hair cut short to a bob, which looks amazing, but I wish I'd been there for that. She made the choice to not have her nails painted because she knew that at the age of 8, her mummy felt it was too grown up a thing to do and yet, I tell her that when she is with her daddy, it is her choice. Different house, different rules.
She is growing and developing and I am proud of the person she is becoming and glad that I am her mummy.
Today, she asked me when I had started to call my mum 'mum' and not mummy. I couldn't remember and said that I thought it was well into my late teens.
She said that she would definitely always call me mama and sometimes mummy as she grew older.
So now I'm going to go kiss that little girl good night and whisper in her ear that I love her.
