We fell through the door and took off our hats and scarves. My three year old requested CBeebies and a cup of warm milk and I duly obliged. Half an hour later, we were still there, snuggled up on the sofa, bathed by the warm glow of Mr Bloom and friends. 

I would have been there an hour and a half later too, if I hadn’t made a promise to myself a couple of weeks ago. Life is a bit stressful at the moment. With Christmas just around the corner we still don’t know where we’re going to be living come December 25th, which is kind of scary, especially when you’re a planner as I am. So I made a pact with myself recently to try and do as much as I can in the afternoons with Frog, to forget the stress. Immersing myself in mum duties seems to be working, so far.

It’s amazing how distracting a three year old can be. Reluctantly turning off the TV and donning wellies, coats, hats and gloves, we went for a wander to the end of our road. I was sure I’d spotted a tiny entrance to a public footpath when I was parking the other day.

Sure enough…

It’s amazing really. We’ve lived here four months and I’d never noticed that path until a few days ago. We followed it for a minute or so.

It led here… Beneath us was the stream we discovered a couple of weeks ago. The path threaded around the side of a steep hillside, with views right across the valley, overlooking the edge of Dartmoor.

This has been just behind our house all this time.

We stopped to sit on a bench and chat about what we could see – amongst the fields there was the place where Frog does swimming lessons, some hamlets tucked just behind town and rather a lot of sheep.

Then we did some hill climbing. Recovering from the terror of seeing my three year old almost hurtle down the sheer face of a very steep Devon hill, I realised I wasn’t feeling stressed any more. And the stinking cold didn’t feel quite so stinking.

I even felt happy enough to indulge my camera-mad child and take a couple of Dartmoor Selfies (that’s totally a thing by the way – Dartmoor enthusiasts will be doing “Dartmoor Selfies” from here on in, guaranteed).

The outdoors wins again. Thank you outdoors.

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It’s not been like that recently. Feeling less tired and myself again, I’ve enjoyed the time spent with my feisty little girl. She makes me laugh – proper big belly laughs. Today was one such day. And it was mainly because of a nature trail for toddlers. Or, to be exact, my toddler.

Armed with nothing more than a bag, a torch, a list and a crayon, we set off to find some “treasure”. (It should be noted that nature trails are a great way to con gullible toddlers into thinking sticks and leaves etc are actual treasure. There’s only so long they’ll be happy to rummage around for something that’s not an iPad or the latest One Direction album.)

Frog spent ages examining her list of “must-haves”. She discussed each item and talked to me about where we might find them. After five minutes of posing with her bag over her shoulder, we set off.

If you look really carefully in the photograph above, you’ll see there are no pebbles. Not one. Nada. We looked everywhere for a stone or pebble and eventually Frog spotted one, nestled amongst all the other stones and pebbles “bits of ground”. She was ecstatic. It went straight in the bag for treasure.

This is where patience set in and I had to quell my inner In A Rush Mum. We had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I reminded myself I could simply watch her search the bushes of leaves for that *perfect* leaf. Gradually, I felt myself begin to relax as I succumbed to the peace of a tantrum-free zone.

I even felt a little thrill of excitement as we spotted an empty snail shell by the side of the path. (When you get out as little as I do, it’s the small things, OK?)

Arriving home, we unpacked our bounty. Frog inevitably lost interest and demanded we get out the play-dough, but a hot water bottle and some warm milk on the sofa put that idea out of mind for at least, oh, ten minutes.

I like afternoons now, I think we’ll do this again. Just remind me not to add feathers to the list. That bit of fluff took me AGES to spot.

***

Linking up to The Sunday Showcase at Here Come The Girls and Country Kids at Coombe Mill. 

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We had yet to face that dreaded day when we would be hurried from a health visitor to a doctor to a hospital, to be told our bendy, non-walking 20 month old may have something wrong with her hips.

I was concerned, but not overly. Whenever anyone commented on the fact that my baby (who still very much looked like a baby, rather than a toddler) was slow to “get going”, I just shrugged my shoulders and replied that she’d, “do it when she’s ready”.

It would be six months before we’d be told she’d likely need physio throughout her childhood, that her fleet were “very flat”, that it would be a waiting game before we knew if she suffered from full-blown Hypermobility Syndrome, or if she was just a “bit too bendy”. 

Looking back, it was a huge blow to be told my little girl had something “wrong” with her. I’d buried the paranoid first time mum deep down and attempted an Earth Mother approach, only to go off the scale with worry as soon as it was confirmed she faced a few challenges in the walking stakes. Although I was overcome with relief that she wouldn’t need surgery or a cast – and of course I knew things could be SO much worse – there was still a little part of me that felt sad.

I looked at her special hospital issue shoes, saw her struggling to get up and play with her peers, watched as she shrank within herself rapidly losing that sparkle and diva streak I’d come to know and love. And I wondered if that was it. Would my child always be held back by these wonky limbs we’d passed down to her? Would she ever just be, you know, a spirited toddler?

And the answer is, of course, yes.

This weekend I watched as my toddler – now very much toddling – ran through puddles, walked hand-in-hand with her dad, threw pebbles in a lake and jumped to make huge splashes of water drip down into her wellies.

And at bedtime, as I readied her pyjamas to cover her long-limbed, bendy little body, I heard her making whirring, zoomy noises behind me.

“What are you doing poppet?” I asked. “I plane Mummy,” She replied. “I flying”.

I turned to see my formerly non-walking toddler mimicking an aeroplane as she raced around the room.

From crawling to flying. Oh far we’ve come.

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And it’s true, it is horrendously early – the middle of the night some might argue. But it means I get to spend the majority of the afternoon with my toddler.

On days where I need to jack up on biscuits to escape the brick wall of exhaustion hurtling towards me at full speed, an afternoon solo with a two year old is sometimes tricky. But not on days like today.

Days of wood walking and stone skimming and leaf crunching.

Days like today make me appreciate our little corner of the world and those horrendously early mornings.

A mundane Wednesday afternoon. Just the way I like it.

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I’ve spent the last ten minutes sitting here trying to think of something funny or witty or remotely unique that has ever happened to me involving trees.

There was the time I got stuck in the tree house at my cousin’s and had to be rescued. Not particularly original. I mean, we’ve all done that haven’t we?

There was the time I was horrendously, hugely, sweatily pregnant and spent two weeks hobbling from the shade of one tree to another before eventually giving up and sitting in a paddling pool for four days.

There was the time I freaked out during a camping expedition and truly, genuinely believed the trees were alive and were coming to get me. (I think this may have coincided with my first taste of alcohol, aged 14).

But I’m sure all of the above have happened to pretty much everyone, right?

So, I’ve decided to make my debut Gallery entry let it speak for itself. This week’s theme is (yes, you’ve guessed it)….Bananas! Okay, only joking, yep it’s Trees.

As I haven’t joined in The Gallery before, I’ll explain what it’s all about (mainly for you, mum). Every week a theme is posted at Sticky Fingers and we have to find a photograph to match it.

As I rather enjoy a walk in the woods with Frog and her big-next-door-brother Arthur, I thought I’d share a picture of one of these moments. As ever, it’s taken by the lovely Caroline Gue (who is fabulously talented etc etc and if you haven’t already done so, you should check out her website).

So, without further ado, here’s my entry to this week’s Gallery, theme of Trees…

Arthur and his trees

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