Since our return from Cornwall the children have been at home for just 4 sleeps as school holiday's are juggled alongside G & I working. G has also clocked up a week in Germany & just over a week in Canada in the past 3 weeks.
In the past I've often loved the silence, the chance to get on & do in peace & quiet. But this time I've found it hard. I've underestimated how after a difficult day at work, conversations about play ground friends & Pokemon from the Small's provide a balance to the days palliative care conversations.
I've felt a little lost from the usual routines, and envious/sad/guilty at listening/reading about others times with their children. I don't know if this has a lot to do with my 11 year old starting seniors in a couple of days. It doesn't feel like two minutes since he would be sitting on the toilet with his feet dangling far above the floor. Now he's like Bambi - long limbed & awkward, and about to embark on a whole new experience.
I've even missed G, usually I am pretty independent in coping without him, he's always travelled with his job, ever since we first started courting. I'll digress & tell you a story....
After a particularly long stint away my son, then very small came toddling into the bedroom. A blotto almost under the covers G had arrived back in the night.
With a squeal my little one shouted "Mummy there's a strange man in bed"
" No darling, that's your father" I replied **
We had part of the bank holiday weekend together, just me & G. We pottered through some of the jobs that I needed him to help with - Loft Clearing. Reminiscing through boxes of CD's. G had more CD's of shame, my collection was defiantly more eclectic & random, but together they charted the past 20 years of our lives.
And we Sunday breakfasted out, at the little French Cafe in town, feeling terribly grown up & pampered....
Then for the rest of the week I was home alone. I pottered &mooched/mopped, but didn't really achieve much, just worked & made my way through the biggest pile of ironing. Waiting for Friday.
Now Friday has been & gone. My Small people are back & so is G. They have had a good time at Grandma & Grandpa's. Life is back to its normal rhythm. The cyclo cross season has started & the 11 year old has gained his first war wound of the season. I have pile of muddy lycra to wash. The 8 year old squeezed every drop out of Saturday playing with the girls from next door. It's noisy again.
It's good. The end of the Big Hush.
* New Winter Shoes for my girl
**(whilst having wishful thoughts I'm sure)
Hello, me? I am a wife to G, mum of two growing small people 11 & 8. A specialist nurse, living and working on the edge of the Peak District, North Derbyshire. Often scatty, usually very busy, fidgity daydreamer.... Good sense of humour, sweet tooth, big feet, blessed.