I tried to leave the house yesterday morning, bright and early, before the kids woke up, to walk to Thames path to Marlow and get some work done at the Starbuck’s there.
The only internet I get here, my life story, is standing in the picture window of Granny’s sewing room, the only room in the house without heat. It’s not conducive to working.
So Starbuck’s is my office.
So there I was, babbling on and on as I got dressed, about what the girls might like for breakfast, what clothes they miight be looking for, what they might like to do:
Don’t forget to give Isla her nose spray so she doesn’t get allergic, and a spoonful of antihistamine in her juice, not too much juice, but not too little, she doesn’t like to taste the medicine.... , do you have my phone number, will you call me, what are you guys going to do for fun, maybe they would like to go swimming...
Ian said nothing, just looked at me, as if to say, What do I look like, the babysitter?
After 8 months without him, I am having trouble handing over the reins. I worry he has forgotten how to be their father. And I’ve forgotten how to be a wife...
I had not considered how hard it would be to get alone with him, to find time for us, not even realizing how much I need and want that. I was only focusing on the reunion of us as a family, of father and daughters, not husband and wife.
Being parents is hard. We love our children, we love each other. But the madness that is the fullness of their occupation of our every waking hour, is real. And people say it is but a blink of an eye, but I can’t help but dwell on the fact that Ian and I are older than usual, he especially, and ... do we really have all the time in the world? Now that we have been forced apart, time feels all the more precious.
More TMI over at Momformation...