Savoring the moments: Reflections on growing children, firsts, and everyday magic.

 Savoring simple daily pleasures

There are chapters in life that feel like slow-burning embers—warm, glowing, and easy to overlook if you're not paying attention. Then there are chapters that blaze with change, growth, and a thousand tiny firsts that seem to fly past in a blink. I find myself standing in the middle of both right now, somewhere between the ordinary and the extraordinary, watching my teenage daughters stretch into the world.

As a mum of fast-growing girls, it’s impossible not to notice the shift—the physical, emotional, and soulful expansion that comes with this age. The pace is relentless, yes. First cars. First concerts. First heartbreaks. First jobs. First overseas adventures. There is a beauty and a bittersweetness in it all. My girls are blossoming into exactly who they’re meant to be. And while they’re growing outward, exploring boldly and dreaming widely, I find myself quietly growing inward. Learning new dimensions of love, patience, and presence.

There was a time when they needed me to tie their laces, hold their hands crossing the street, and sit bedside through night-time fears. Now they need different things: space, trust, boundaries, quiet encouragement, and yes—plenty of food. But they also need something more subtle and perhaps even more sacred: a steady witness. Someone who notices. Someone who sees not just the big milestones, but the tiny moments in between.

And so I’ve taken up the practice of saving moments—not just the camera-ready ones, but the ones that don’t shout for attention. The quick hug before school. The way they still instinctively say “Mum?” when they walk through the door. The half-laughed stories about boys shared on the drive to ballet. The trail of cookie crumbs left behind after a late-night baking session that I didn’t know was happening until the smell of chocolate filled the house.

These are the moments we can miss when we’re rushing, distracted, or overwhelmed. But they are the ones that matter. They carry the spirit of our home. They mark the journey, even when the road ahead is unclear.

In family life, it’s vital to make space—for the personalities that fill the rooms, for the quiet and the chaos, for differences and strengths. In our home, that means laughing at ourselves, apologising when needed, and understanding that no one is perfect but everyone is growing. And maybe most importantly, it means keeping the door open, physically and emotionally. No matter how tall they get or how far they go, I want my girls to know that home is always home. Mummy is always Mummy, however old they are.

This chapter of our lives is full of firsts—for them and for me. And in all honesty, it can be emotional. It’s a slow letting go and a deep holding on at the same time. But there is a kind of quiet magic here too. Not the glittery, firework-filled magic, but the gentle, glowing kind. The kind you feel in a long walk together, in the shared silence of just being near each other. The kind you hear in the sound of laughter down the hall or see in the way they care for their friends.

I’ve learned that life doesn’t pause so we can notice it—we have to do the noticing ourselves. We often find what we go looking for. So I’ve chosen to look for joy. To look for magic. To seek out the sparkle in the mundane and the miracle in the everyday.

This isn’t a season I want to race through. I want to savour it. All of it. Even the chaos. Even the laundry. Even the heartbreaks they will learn to navigate. Because all of it is life. And life—when we slow down enough to see it—is full of sacred, ordinary wonders.

So let’s keep saving the moments. Let’s keep looking. Let’s stay curious, tender-hearted, and wide-eyed. Let’s meet our families where they are—with patience, grace, and an open heart. And in doing so, let’s teach our children that their lives, in all their beautiful becoming, are not only worthy of celebration but of our full, present love.