I just went to check on my boys. They were both asleep, cuddling, on the bottom bunk. Too cute! I drank in all the love for a moment, then the fear of a creaky floorboard or accidental door slam on the way out of the room kicked in, and I went into mum-ninja-stealth mode, all loving thoughts forgotten for a moment as I made my careful retreat.
Mark and I are going on a short break away soon, sans enfants! We can’t wait – we are agreeing with everyone who tells us we mustn’t be able to wait – but of course, we’ll miss the children. We won’t miss having to plan the day quite so carefully, though. We won’t miss the arguments about when we will get to move on to the next exciting place. Too hyped up to live in the moment, H is often skipping museum exhibits in anticipation of what he’ll spot next, missing the coolest parts in the process.
I’m excited to see Mark for a decent length of time with our ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’ hats off – although I’m sure we’ll accidentally refer to each other as such at least once.
I’ll miss checking on the boys, then ninja-travelling out again. Absence certainly makes the heart grow fonder, as I’m sure we will be thrilled to see the boys upon our return. In comparison to many, we haven’t spent long away from the boys at all. But I’m glad that this is an exception; I’m glad that a break away from the boys is a special occasion. They’re little for such a short length of time. Of course, I’d love more time with Mark, though, and it all comes back to the balance struggle from my first post.
The stealth-ninja Mum is my role, and although I’m going to enjoy the few days away, I’ll also look forward to slipping right back into my place with my boys, refreshed and ready for the madness of two little men!