I dreamt my kids were still babies last night.
But I knew they were grown adults and couldn’t figure out why they were here as babies again.
I was trying to feed them things they hated as a child but enjoy now.
They wanted to do crafts and as always I didn’t want the glitter getting everywhere.
One of my kids was suffering sores around their nappy line and I told them I was sorry and that I knew how uncomfortable that was as I too get sores around my HRT patches some days.
We were throwing a party at my dad’s property. It had been sold, but I had got it back and was trying to make it look how it used to before all the guests arrived. Even trying to find the same diamond-patterned curtains that hung when I was a child.
Knowing my dad was gone, and my nan and grandad would never visit again. But trying desperately to make it like it used to be. Every detail had to be perfect. Just for them.
All these things happening and me trying to make things right, all along knowing what the outcome would be.
Both my kids are home for the holidays. And it’s lovely having them back. But they feel a little like strangers and I’m walking on eggshells so as not to upset them and risk losing the bonds that used to hold them close.
Knowing that any fallout from this point on could result in them choosing not to come home again and cutting me out of their future, their lives.
They’re both doing ok with uni, but there is still a lot to learn. And I’m desperate to teach them so they don’t struggle or suffer. But if I’m honest, I know they no longer take my advice. Because my advice was the old ways and they’re grown-ups now.
It was beautiful to see them as babies in my dreams last night. And already I regret not just enjoying that moment rather than worrying about getting everything right.
I feel like I missed out on so many moments whilst they were small with no one to blame but myself. Always too busy trying to get it right. And missing those precious moments.