My calves are aching from wearing heels again, I rub them, curse the Friday night traffic, and switch the radio off: I am too weary for noise. Park the car hurriedly, and practically get run over crossing the street, run up the stairs to the childminder’s, where a proud-looking little girl walks over to meet me at the door. My baby is walking.
I woop with joy, hold her tight and want to ring her dad to share the news. Then I remember: Sharing is no longer what we do. I breath in the baby smell behind her right ear and feel my eyes prickle: I have missed her so much this week… I grab the bag, the toddler, and clomp away (damn those heels) to the nearby school to collect her brother.