A Monday Reset, A Tuesday Start
Quick continuation from last night: just after Kike got home, a friend messaged me asking if I wanted to go for a walk. I was so tired and wanted the day to end so badly but I knew I needed this. Half an hour later, I met her and we did a lap of my local park. I was home by 9pm, both kids still up obviously, but I’d had a really good chat, a break, and some exercise, which is the best thing, really.
It’s Tuesday now. Monday’s blues are long in the distance. I woke up at 8am, that’s weird. I can hear “Mummy!” but it’s from a slightly different place. I roll over and Kike’s not there. He’s got up with River. I start the day with love.
By 8.15, that initial feeling is already draining, I’m making Summer’s packed lunch, Kike’s lunch, emptying the dishwasher and River has discovered I’m awake so is helpfully sitting in the middle of the kitchen with his iPad. We say goodbye to Kike (off to work) and Summer (off to day two of Art Camp). No time for bed today we have a playdate!
Pregnancy Competitions, Baby Names and What We Carry
My friend and I always joked that we were going to have our babies on the same day, the classic pregnancy “competition.” Her due date was a few days before mine, which she liked to remind me with a grin. But then, in the final month, the doctors brought River’s date forward… and I won. My baby came first. Obviously it was never really a competition… but also, it kind of was.
What I’ve always found funny is that she never shared her baby’s name before he was born. I know that’s common, most people don’t, but I’ve never understood it. I named both of mine at the 20-week scan. They were my babies, and I needed to know who they were, to start calling them by name. They were already Summer and River to me, and to everyone else.
Maybe that’s something that comes from my own story. I was adopted into a family that’s known deep grief, including the pain of losing babies. So I do understand why people might want to hold things close, keep names private, wait until they feel it’s safe. I really do.
But when I’ve asked others why they wait, often the answer is something like: “In case someone steals the name.” That always makes me smile. I’ve never worried about that, I knew no one was going to pinch Summer or River. They weren’t exactly trending on the baby name charts.
Playdate Prep and Guest Stars
It’s 9am and I have a garden to sort out. Water tray cleaned, sand tray emptied and set up as dinosaur land, hoops found, games laid out, and time to prep River:
Friends coming to play. Arthur and Edward. Suzy is mummy.
He looks blank but keeps repeating “Suzy.” He likes the sound of that name.
Our “empty” fridge strikes again, so I do a quick food order just as they arrive. Arthur (4) walks into the garden:
“Where’s my best friend?”
Suzy has clearly done some scripting of her own, good friend.
River is ecstatic. He runs to the garden to greet his guests, flapping and jumping with excitement. He gets close, not quite eye contact, but nearly and says,
“Hi Arthur!” “Hi Edward!” and “HI SUZY!”
The morning is off to a great start.
He spends the next hour joyfully orbiting Arthur as he plays, watching, flapping, delighted. I know he won’t use the toys the way the others do, but the joy of having people here is enough.
Beige Buffets and Boundaries
By 11:30am (obviously lunchtime for children), we roll out a beige buffet fit for a king, complete with cucumbers and strawberries. They sit for about 15 minutes. River jumps continuously throughout lunch, not like him but I haven’t provided the ipad and he’s clearly still buzzing with excitement.
After lunch, things shift. River tries the bubbles but quickly becomes agitated.
“MUMMY IN!”
So, we all go inside. CBeebies comes on, and they all watch. Well, River shouts “Mummy!” “It’s a wolf!” every 5 seconds but I’ve learned to roll with it. Arthur and Edward start exploring. That makes me happy too, they feel safe enough to just be here.
River retreats to the sofa. He’s had enough. I’d love him to play, I really would, I planned it all but I’ve learned not to push him when he’s clearly done. He shares his toys, but not his space. And that’s okay.
Knowing When to Call It
Later, he asks for the lights off. That’s the sign. He’s ready for his nap. I explain I’ll take him early to get Summer so he can sleep in the pushchair.
There’s no need for more explanation. Suzy’s already tidying, calmly directing her boys. River cries a bit (overtired), but Suzy is calm, unbothered, reassuring the boys while staying cool. That helps keep me calm, too.
He’s asleep before we reach the end of the driveway. I exhale.
Endings, Anniversaries and Lessons
I may have only had 40-second snippets of conversation between the cries of “MUMMY!” and “HALLOWEEN!” but I had them. And that was great.
We take River to the pub near Summer’s camp, and Kike meets us. We have a quiet drink (Summer and River on their iPads, of course) and chat about how tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. We both agree to postpone any celebration until the holiday, if they’ll let us celebrate at all!
What I Learned Today
I feel so grateful to have friends with kids River’s age, who come into our world gently, with understanding. I’m not trying to push friendships on him, but I am trying to help him cope with others nearby.
Today taught me River’s limit is about an hour. He copes better in his own space, with his own comfort objects. He was happy for others to play with his toys, he just wanted his own soundtrack. His own sofa. His own rhythm.
That’s something we can build on. In his time, and in his way.
Not Scripted, Just River
The day began with a moment I can’t stop thinking about. River was helping me refill the water tray in the garden and, as expected, got himself completely soaked. Normally, this would cue the familiar, shouted script: “River wet!”
But today, he paused. Looked down. Then, in a softer, slightly slurred voice I’ve never quite heard from him before, he said:
“I want dry clothes.”
Not copied. Not prompted. Just… his own words.
It was such a small moment but I think it might be the first time he’s ever expressed something so clearly, just for himself. I felt it deeply. A shift.
It stayed with me through the playdate chaos, through the endless snack prep, through the sofa retreat and the gentle meltdowns. It reminded me that things are still changing, growing even on the most ordinary of days.
Even when progress is quiet, it’s still progress.
50 days of River 
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