Life truly has been coloured by all things Logan these past three years – allowing me an apprenticeship in the arena of parenthood so valuable that I wonder: without such a trainee -ship what sort of mother would I have turned out to be? Could I have survived those early days without a couple of years of watching first hand how it was all done?
My sister has been my God-send; an all knowing, all seeing and overflowing fountain of knowledge that has been drawn from on countless occasions this past 11 months of parenthood. How she coped in those early days without, well, one of “her”, I’ll never know. Because it’s a certainty in my mind that my own journey has been made all the more manageable thanks mainly to the ride I shared with her, raising their son Logan James Stewart.
It scares me, how fast the clock has ticked by; I have no doubt that time will again do me no favours by failing to stand still as I watch my own son blossom from a bub to a boy.
I’ve no crystal ball stashed away in my cupboard, but I can bet that my son is going to be barrel of boisterous energy, just like his beloved big cousin. And in no time at all too. From the moment he gained momentum and began crawling at the achingly early age (in my books) of 7 months, there has not been a backwards glance. Too much to do, to touch, to see, mountains of mischief awaiting his discovery…