We are standing in the bathroom together. I am blow-drying her hair; she is staring at herself intently in the mirror, as she is wont to do these days.

 

"Mummy," she sighs. "I hate this Catholic I have."

 

From the corner of my eye, I see myself frown in the mirror. "You hate what?"

 

"My Catholic."

 

I have no idea what she's talking about. "Your what?"

 

She sighs exasperatedly, a very get it together, Mom kind of sigh, and stabs her finger toward her forehead. "My Catholic," she says dramatically, and I burst out laughing.

 

"Cowlick, honey. Not Catholic. You hate your cowlick."

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I check on her every night before I go to bed. Tonight she is lying sideways in bed and I wake her so she can reposition.

"I was dreaming, Mummy," she breathes as she settles in to her pillows. 

"What were you dreaming about, baby?" I'm whispering, hushed tones in the dark. I tuck her stuffed pink flamingo under her arm.

"I was dreaming that I owned a pizza restaurant," she said dreamily. She was smiling. "And I made the best pizza in the universe."

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I spent some time this weekend lying on the grass in the sunshine. It wasn’t hot and heavy like it has been; instead, it was an awesome day – crisp, clear and brilliantly sunny.

I stared at the clouds and thought about school. I’ve got my timetable now, and a uniform. I start in less than a month.

I’m really doing this. I’m going back to school. This is really happening.

I’m getting a bit nervous.

15 Comments | In: life, in general | tags: big life changes. | #