I often look at my two beautiful daughters and think “Oh, I wish I was more like them.”

This week, I have been struck by the thoughts “Where did all your love come from?” & “I am so lucky to be your mum.”

I was able to take Squidge to her gym class alone this week, as it has been half term and Gabby chose to stay at Nanny’s house rather than make the journey with us down to the gym as normal.

The weather has been rubbish, wet, windy and cold. My body, my joints & my muscles do not cope well with the change of seasons. I have noticed that my left, weaker knee is turning in quite a lot now that the weather is colder and I am scared of my other leg catching it as I walk, meaning that I will essentially trip over my own knee.

As Squidge & I made it down the steep hill, strewn with rain sodden clumps of now deathly slippery leaves, I began to panic about my balance.

“Oh, hang on Squidge!” I called out, gripping the wall to gather myself. “My legs are cold and tired and not really doing what they should. Mummy’s a bit worried she might fall.”

But my little girl did not flinch. She stepped up beside me and took my hand tight. “It’s OK Mummy” she told me softly. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

These are words that I always say to my girls if they are ever hurt or upset. It made me feel wonderful that my little girl felt able to repeat them in the care of someone else. It made me feel so loved that she repeated them to me. She held my hand all the way to the gym, encouraging me to take small, safe steps. She also reminded me that if anything went wrong, she had the SOS button on her watch to alert her dad.

I have carried so much guilt at having my disability impact my girls’ lives in any way. But the truth is, being me made the whole thing completely unavoidable. My 6 year old daughter is a young carer (still without any input from the support services that purport to exist for her I have just realised, despite our engaging with them twice now, how disappointing), because she is a 6 year old that just knows to care. The amount of love and empathy someone so small (in terms of her life stage I mean, physically, she’s already up to my chin!) can have inside of them simply amazes me.

But as to where all that love and care comes from? I can only hope it is a reflection of the love and care I have shown her.

The miserable weather continued into Thursday when Kev & I were taking the girls to the cinema – Gabby’s first trip – to see the Paw Patrol movie. Squidge stayed at my side, clutching my hand and declaring herself “Mummy’s girl”.

They both loved the film. Gabby was transfixed, asking who had the buttons for the giant TV.

When we left, both girls rushing out full of cinema-sanctioned sugar, I needed to readjust my tights. Kev & Squidge crowded round me to protect my modesty. Gabby looked back, straight faced, with no clue why her daddy and her sister were crowded round Mummy with their feet apart and arms thrown out.

But without missing a beat, she copied the stance from where she stood, her serious little face unchanged as she stood there, looking like a rugby player about to take part in a haka.

I burst out laughing, realising as I did that it has been so long since joy burst out of me spontaneously like that.

“Oh, that is why I love belonging in this family. That.“

How lucky I am, I thought. How lucky I am to be your mummy.