Missing Milestones: School 1 Mum 0

A determined young boy skillfully attempts to stand by getting into a bear pose, he is surrounded by toys, embodying perseverance and growth in overcoming delayed motor skills.

First off: sorry. It’s been a while. A proper while.

Life, as it does, happened. It didn’t knock gently either; it barged in, flung its shoes off in the hallway and made itself very comfortable. Between medical appointments, balancing work, trying to be present for both my children, forgotten laundry cycles, and our first mum and dad holiday in five years, something had to give. And unfortunately, it was this space.

But I’m back. With something that’s been sitting heavy on my chest for a while now.

Let’s talk about the things our children do elsewhere. The magic tricks they save for everyone but us.

The milestones they pull out of their hat at school or nursery, the things we’ve waited so long to see at home, only to hear secondhand from a keyworker or teacher, with that well-meaning smile and a “you must be so proud!”

And of course, we are proud. Proud with a twist of heartbreak.

My son, for example, has decided that he can climb up onto the sofas at school. Something he doesn't even seem close to doing at home.

Cue the emotional spiral: Why not at home? Am I doing something wrong? Is he just happier at school? Is it me?

It’s an odd grief, missing out on a milestone that technically has been reached. It’s not that he can’t, it’s that he won’t (at least, not with me). And that stings in a way I wasn’t expecting.

I know school is the best place for him. His 1:1 is brilliant (more on that later). His world expands there in ways I could never replicate. But it’s still hard. It’s hard not to take it personally. Hard not to feel like the one person being left out of the big reveal.

But here’s what I’m slowly learning, in the middle of the mess: our kids are not performing monkeys. They’re not on this earth to tick boxes on our timeline. And their preferences, their choices, those are not reflections of our worth as parents.

Sometimes they’ll feel safer trying things with someone else. Sometimes we are the safe place not to try. The one spot they don’t have to push. And that’s hard, but also - maybe - a little bit beautiful.

So to anyone else feeling the ache of missing a moment, you’re not alone. It doesn’t make you less. It doesn’t mean they love you any less. It just means your child is complex, clever, and (sometimes infuriatingly) on their own schedule.

I’m still waiting for the great sofa summit at home. And if it never comes? That’s okay too. I’ll sit on the floor beside him and wait. Because wherever he feels ready; that’s where we’ll meet.