By the next Mother’s Day, the palpable excitement to get the best presents for me would’ve dialled down. The innumerable cards and coloured papers telling me how much they love me would have been replaced by one that has more text and less drawings. This Mother’s Day, I will soak in the words written with multi-coloured pens a little longer.

By the next Mother’s Day, the tooth-fairy would’ve stopped visiting our home as the fantasy would have been shattered amongst friends. There would be less toothless smiles in the mornings with magical coins in little hands, or fewer tears when the fairy might have “forgotten” to pay a visit. This Mother’s Day, I will hold on to the morning hugs a little longer.

By the next Mother’s Day, we would’ve thrown out the many flashy Halloween costumes stuffed high up in the corner of wardrobes. There would not be any need for the sparkly hair accessories in the shape of butterflies. This Mother’s Day, as I comb my daughter’s hair, hardly able to see the top of her head anymore, I will stand on my tippy toes a little longer.

By the next Mother’s Day, we would have had the last night of Santa coming into our home and leaving behind snowy footprints and half eaten cookies. There would no longer be any carrots laid out for reindeers and no magical presents appearing under the Christmas tree. This Mother’s Day, I will hold onto their amazement a little longer.

By the next Mother’s Day, I would’ve attended fewer events at school. There would be less insistence on visiting school to watch the Easter Hat Parade, or the Awards Night, or even the Disco Night, as having friends around would’ve taken priority over having me watch them. This Mother’s Day, I will watch them being themselves a little closer.

By the next Mother’s Day, bathrooms would have become an actual private place. There would’ve been less ‘announcements’ before running to the toilet, and showers would’ve become a one-person affair. This Mother’s Day, I will be a part of their intimate world just a little longer.

By the next Mother’s Day, they would’ve had less interest in the songs I often sing to them. New songs from new artists would’ve been added to our home’s repertoire. I would’ve tried in vain to keep up with their music and they would’ve laughed every time I tried to join in their singing with lyrics I wouldn’t remember. This Mother’s Day, I will sing to them a little slower.

By the next Mother’s Day, there would’ve been fewer questions about how their world works. They would’ve figured out some answers or figured out that I, in fact don’t know all the answers. They would question less and look for answers themselves much more. This Mother’s Day, I will ponder over every question a little deeper.

By the next Mother’s Day, my little ones would’ve grown up a little bit more. This Mother’s Day, I will embrace them a little tighter.