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motherhood

Motherhood

To know her

My mom babysat Olive last night and when I came home my house was spotless. The dishwasher was quietly humming, Olive’s toys were stacked neatly in her toybox. My dining room table was clear. My bed was made.

The sweetest things are always, always the smallest things.

When I drop Olive off at school I wait by the playground fence as she lines up with her classmates. She runs back three or four times for another hug, another kiss, another “I love you”. When her class begins to slowly file inside she interrupts her excited chattering every¬†few seconds to look back and wave, “Bye mummy!” she cries, “Bye mummy!”.

I miss writing about motherhood.

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