How My Two-Year-Old Has Saved Me {Where We Are}

Dear Thomas,

It’s been a while since I published a public letter to you. The older you get, the more it seems like an intrusion to post every nuance of your burgeoning personality, and to reveal every aspect of our evolving relationship. So though I still write to you often, I usually do so privately, saving my reflections for the future you, whatever you may turn out to be.

But what do I blog for if not in part to tell the world about you, and about how loved you are?

So here is where we are right now. You, just shy of two and half years old. Me, just past the third Mothering Sunday I have spent as a mother.

One of your favourite new phrases right now may be “Thomas first”, but let’s focus on me for just a moment. (After all, the only other time I ever get to go first lately is when brushing your teeth. And believe me, that’s tough for a mother who once was just like her son in her desire to always be first! I’m sure you’ll hear all about that from your grandparents.)

Right now I still feel that I may be a little lost in motherhood. I’m often exhausted, at times anxious and unsure exactly what I’m doing. I know that I don’t have it all figured out, and I’m absolutely sure that I never will. I vacillate between worrying that I’m not doing enough for you, and fearing that I do too much and, hence, stifle your independence.

And right now, I’m busy worrying about how motherhood hasn’t ended up shaped quite the way I would have imagined. I’m feeling very acutely the hole in our midst – the missing second child, the sibling you will probably never have.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about that. To you, I’m still everything. Me and your Dad are more than enough for you, and you find new ways to prove that to me all the time.

And that is how you, my two year old, have managed to save me.

You’ve kept me from slipping helplessly towards the deeper pits of depression, for how can I be sad when I have you in my life? You’ve given me perspective in the moment that you interrupt a massive tantrum over the availability, or lack thereof, of further biscuits to tell me that “it’s okay, I had one biscuit”. (I may have cried, and given you a second one.) You’ve reminded me that there is so much joy to be had in simple things: digging in the dirt with a stick; tossing stones in to puddles; dragging a branch along railings to play a tune; discovering the world around you and treating it all with utter awe and reverence. Not a day passes without you literally jumping for joy, and it’s a joy in itself to behold.

Each of your days sees great moments of triumph for hope and optimism over logic and experience. It’s a lesson we can all learn from. Especially your Mummy, who lately has been rather prone to negativity.

Right now you’re bright, outgoing, confident, curious, vivacious, imaginative, argumentative and strong willed. You’re still train obsessed, but are bringing increasing amounts of creativity and storytelling to your play. You literally never stop talking and never stop moving, managing to do both simultaneously whilst also sleeping. You’re my bundle of energy and my ball of chaos, yet you’re also so loving, with all your frequent requests for cuddles and kisses that you reciprocate so beautifully.

Our relationship is as much summed up in the quiet moments where you snuggle against me and gently stroke my hand as in the times I am the truck to your engine, racing about the house through imaginary tunnels, chasing to keep up with you. It’s as much about the cuddles and kisses as the impromptu dance parties and tickle fights.

We are each other’s warm and tender comfort, and each other’s fun and laughter too.

Right now, we fit together. And with you, I can just be.

All my love, always

Mummy xxx


This post is partly inspired by Rachel – whose blog I have fairly newly discovered – and her letter to her boys on Mother’s Day, which I’m linking up to.


2 Replies to “How My Two-Year-Old Has Saved Me {Where We Are}”

  1. And, and most importantly, he has a great taste in carousels!!

    He sounds like such a lovely little boy, all energy and sweetness – I think you’ve got the hang of this parenting lark much more than you’re giving yourself credit for!

    1. I appreciate that you think so! I think it’s part of the territory to doubt yourself, but unfortunately realising that doesn’t stop me doing it!

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