Love jumped in a taxi this afternoon, and it carried her up the driveway towards a week of Amazing Encounter. Tonga beckoned, the unknown called, and Love began her response.
Between the both of us, the fact that our roles have been turned on their heads isn't lost. Usually it's me that packs a bag, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind, what will be used and what would be gratuitous. Usually, it's me that has to answer questions from the girls as to why I have to go, that makes the assurances that the time will pass quickly.
This, however, is a trip with a significant difference. My work trips have a reason. This trip for Amy has Purpose.
Mishie woke this afternoon with gurgles and giggles, as she normally does. When I opened the door she was playing on the floor, telling me that whatever she was doing, it was "like Mike-hall". While I was checking her nappy - no-poohs-just-wees - she asked "where Mummy?" I reminded her about the airplane. Her blue eyes looked into the half-distance, little synapses processing. Then she said, quietly, "yeah, airplane". And I bit my lip a little.
"Everything reminds me of mum". The wheels fell off Maddy's wagon not long after she got home. We knew that would happen. I was waiting for it. It happened on the trampoline. She was very sweet about it, but Kenzie and Mishie being on the tramp with us didn't help. Her eyes leaked, her mouth descended in her trademark way. She crumpled in my arms, then went stiff. Then crumpled again. Couple of other times she said it again, once in the lounge, surrounded by Mum-stuff, and again in the car, listening to a song on Rhema. (yes, I found Rhema on the big car's radio!). She's fragile, but she'll make it okay.
Kenzie is quieter about her missing. When she got home we shared a hug. I asked her if she was okay, she told me kinda. I squeezed her tighter. She's wanted to be close. No words, just proximity. I get that.
We did hedgehogs for dinner. When got in from getting K from drama (I'll pay the bill in the morning...), we went straight to the fridge, dolupted mash onto plates, and each of the girls went about creating their hogs. Then they systematically demolished them all over the grub mat. Licked clean plates. Literally.
I'm clicking away at this on the couch. It's 10.42pm. Mish went to sleep at eight. The big girls closer to nine, after we digested their new pop-up book - Edwardian weddings were never so interesting. They're asleep in our bed upstairs. I'm on the floor tonight. We played crack-the-coconut to see who got the floor first. Apparently, from the reactions of One and Two, I won. My prize is the mattress in the walk-in. Then we rotate, so that we get two nights each sleeping on either the floor, daddy's side and mummy's side.
The separation is very close to the surface, but after a few hours we're doing okay! So far, so good.
Between the both of us, the fact that our roles have been turned on their heads isn't lost. Usually it's me that packs a bag, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind, what will be used and what would be gratuitous. Usually, it's me that has to answer questions from the girls as to why I have to go, that makes the assurances that the time will pass quickly.
This, however, is a trip with a significant difference. My work trips have a reason. This trip for Amy has Purpose.
Mishie woke this afternoon with gurgles and giggles, as she normally does. When I opened the door she was playing on the floor, telling me that whatever she was doing, it was "like Mike-hall". While I was checking her nappy - no-poohs-just-wees - she asked "where Mummy?" I reminded her about the airplane. Her blue eyes looked into the half-distance, little synapses processing. Then she said, quietly, "yeah, airplane". And I bit my lip a little.
"Everything reminds me of mum". The wheels fell off Maddy's wagon not long after she got home. We knew that would happen. I was waiting for it. It happened on the trampoline. She was very sweet about it, but Kenzie and Mishie being on the tramp with us didn't help. Her eyes leaked, her mouth descended in her trademark way. She crumpled in my arms, then went stiff. Then crumpled again. Couple of other times she said it again, once in the lounge, surrounded by Mum-stuff, and again in the car, listening to a song on Rhema. (yes, I found Rhema on the big car's radio!). She's fragile, but she'll make it okay.
Kenzie is quieter about her missing. When she got home we shared a hug. I asked her if she was okay, she told me kinda. I squeezed her tighter. She's wanted to be close. No words, just proximity. I get that.
We did hedgehogs for dinner. When got in from getting K from drama (I'll pay the bill in the morning...), we went straight to the fridge, dolupted mash onto plates, and each of the girls went about creating their hogs. Then they systematically demolished them all over the grub mat. Licked clean plates. Literally.
I'm clicking away at this on the couch. It's 10.42pm. Mish went to sleep at eight. The big girls closer to nine, after we digested their new pop-up book - Edwardian weddings were never so interesting. They're asleep in our bed upstairs. I'm on the floor tonight. We played crack-the-coconut to see who got the floor first. Apparently, from the reactions of One and Two, I won. My prize is the mattress in the walk-in. Then we rotate, so that we get two nights each sleeping on either the floor, daddy's side and mummy's side.
The separation is very close to the surface, but after a few hours we're doing okay! So far, so good.
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