I have lied about my age since my early 30's as I am the Queen of Denial when it comes to the 'ageing processes'. For years I have been telling Fussy that I am thirty-two. Hence, one of the obvious downsides to obtaining a formal education is the acquisition of skills - math's included. Alas it didn't take Fussy long to figure out that something was amiss when I declared that I was 32 yet again last year! Once he figured out my real age he then kindly told his little sister. It was all downhill after that, as Hoover being the extrovert that she is would greet people in the street by saying 'hello my name is Hoover and I'm four and I live at such and such address and my mum us 38'!

Although I love that my children are growing and are gaining independence I still find it difficult. Deep in your heart you know that once the sun goes down you can never get that day back again. When I pack away that special dress or gorgeous pair of shoes that they have out grown - it is gone for good. The milestone has been reached and conquered and that particular stage of development is now over. The season no matter how turbulent and joyous has now come to an end.

I'm feeling it all the more with Hoover because not only is she fiercely independent, but she is also my last child. Most days I vacillate between feeling quite central to her life and then with one determined word or action I am left feeling utterly redundant. Thankfully Fussy is still rather moochy and occasionally still asks for my help and opinion.



The other day one of Hoover's kindergarten friends kindly gave her an old two wheeler bike with training wheels. The minute we got home she insisted on riding it up and down the footpath. I looked on with such mixed emotion. I was obviously proud and elated at her natural ability and adeptness. But later that evening as I watched the video with Huxley a little part of me grieved because my baby girl is growing up.