Love Bug has been tricky of late. Some days a breeze. Some days she has put every one of the tools in my mumma kit to the test. Then pushed the limits of that testing over the edge!

For a while I’ve thought she might have an issue with some foods. Like mine, her body doesn’t tolerate too much gluten. She doesn’t have a lot of dairy – in fact none at home other than lactose free yoghurt. She is desperate to be a vegan like her mumma, but baby steps. I’ve noticed a few hours after eating certain things her moods change. Or a few days after eating some things regularly. So I started reading. And talking to other mummas about my gut feeling. And reading some more. Then I spoke to our doctor and we’ve just had some blood tests done. Our doctor thinks my mumma instinct is right.

This week I started keeping a journal of her food journey, and her moods.

This week is also her last week of daycare.

Love Bug and I talk. A lot. Despite this, some things are really tricky to say out loud. Even when you talk so much. Some things are hard to put into words so they come through as emotional reactions. I think this end of one chapter and the looming start of a new chapter is really playing on her mind. She’s much more clingy than ever before. Home with her mumma and dogs she’d rather be than almost anywhere else.

THE UNKNOWN.

Filled with change. It’s a scary place.

Big School is a building she’s visited a couple of times and a place filled with new routines, new people, new smells, new clothing, new playgrounds, new rules, new everything. That kind of change is complex for anyone {hey, I’m even struggling with it all} let alone a kid who has just turned five.

She knows nothing of my uncertainty about how we’re going to get it all together to have our routine sorted, lunch box filled with things to help her have energy, concentrate, not make her sleepy or out of sorts {all derived from a very limited list} at the same time adhering to all of the school rules about what you can’t take to school because of allergies.

She knows nothing of my uncertainty about her personality and how long it takes her to come out of her shell in new situations.

She knows nothing of my fear she will be bullied for only having one parent. Or not eating meat. Or being shy. Or any other of the myriad things kids bully each other about.

She knows nothing of my biggest wish that I could drop her off at the start of the school day and pick her up at the end. Every day. That I wish I didn’t have to rely on out of hours school care.

I wonder if she knows that I will protect her, and fight for her with every fibre of my being. That I will use all the strength I have against any injustice shown to her.

She knows I think she is bright and kind and caring and funny and precious and generally just a pretty terrific kid. And she knows that I love her. More than I ever thought it possible.

And I couldn’t be more proud to be her mumma.