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From No Money Earning TO Daddy Returning

Week 61

It is mid Sunday afternoon, and Michael has taken Emily to the park.

I can hear her squeals of delight from here.

She is so happy to have her daddy back.

So much has changed since he went away.

Now she can drink from a straw, and can do a summersault.

She also hates baths, solids, and how mummy makes toast.

We moved the couches, and put some new textured little mats on to the floor for some extra toddler time stimulation.

And she absolutely loves them.

Meanwhile, I am nestled into the side of the lounge with a blanket, a cup of tea, and some super dark chocolate for good measure.

So let’s begin.

This week’s post is brought to you by the letter “B”.

B is for bird, for bowl, for banana, for bickie, for bottle, for book, for baby, for bed, for blueberry, for bath, for ball, for bib, and for almost every other word in the English language.

Good God it was an early start on Monday.

1:45AM I found myself on the floor next to my bed.

My head resting on the side of the mattress, and my arms stretched out crucifixion style in a bid to protect Little from falling out if she happened to roll over.

Yeah if that doesn’t speak volumes regarding how I have been treating myself lately…

She was asleep smack bang in the middle of my spot with daddy beside her.

They were in the deepest sleep ever, and I felt bad to wake or move either of them.

As I sat there half asleep, I was reminded of being at my best friend’s house when I was small.

Every time I would sleep over, without fail, I would end up sitting on the floor dejectedly at some point throughout the night As everyone else slept.

It didn’t seem to matter if it was only two of us in the bed, or three, four or five kids. I would always be the one to be squeezed out.

I had never really thought about it too deeply, but in those early hours of Monday morning, as I crouched shivering next to my own bed, and contemplated what to do; I was surprised at the hurt I felt over the situation.

The reason I had rolled over was because Emily had been brought in with us a few hours earlier as her fever had once again spiked, and we were a bit worried.

Not to mention she wouldn’t go back to her own bed.

Therefore, Michael had stripped her off, and laid her between us, whereby she promptly fell sound sound sound asleep.

It was the best sleep she had experienced in ages.

When she is with us, neither of us usually sleep well. However on this night, Michael’s exhaustion trumped all else, and I was left to keep vidual.

I had thought she was too hot pressed up against my back.

I mean between that and the latex memory foam mattress, which holds all the heat, her little heartbeat racing, and my physical discomfort, I thought it best to move.

But hello emotional Ouchy, I wasn’t expecting you.

It got me thinking about the message I took from that situation all those years ago, and how I have continued to carry it into adulthood.

Be it a self-fulfilling prophecy, or a simple truth, it certainly has affected me in a myriad of ways.

I have always been accused of thinking too deeply about things, and I have always disagreed.

I simply think about the things that others don’t want to.

So the message I have taken is there is no room for me.

Yeah, I will let that one sink in for a second…

I suspect it is largely how I have lived my life.

More often than not, I end up feeling squeezed out of a situation. And the harder I try to fit in, the more on the outer I feel.

My question is how do I change this, so Little doesn’t have to see it.

Eventually I had bitten the bullet, and woken Michael up to help remedy the situation.

But I hadn’t realised that at some point in those early hours after I had reclaimed my position, Michael had put Emily back into her own bed.

He had moved one sprawled out and peaceful looking toddler into the middle of our bed as I had looked on with anxiety, but I hadn’t really heard her wake for her next feed.

Therefore, as a dutiful mother, I still lay very very still, as I did not want to disturb her tiny body from its slumber.

So I was surprised to hear her cry from the other room.

Just as I was rousing myself to go and get her, Michael stepped in and saved the day, leaving me to have a couple more hours sleep before heading to work.

They did their usual breakfast banter, before bringing me coffee.

Then we all walked to the station and put me on the train.

However, going to work was kind of a disaster, as when I got there, I found out I wasn’t rostered on for the two days I had thought I was for the week.

I thought I had changed my days due to Michael being away later in the pay period, but…

The strange thing about the situation was I wasn’t even cranky about it.

I wasn’t happy about it either, but I wasn’t angry, as I had been the previous week when I had gone in early, only to find I hadn’t needed to be there.

I simply took it as an opportunity to go home, spend some time with Michael, and work on the business together.

As I walked back out the building, something felt lighter and springier in my internal world.

I had debated whether to sit there and see what happened, but when I thought about it, it felt like sticky sap.

And I didn’t feel like dealing with sticky sap covering my universe.

Michael wasn’t happy when I rang him, as he didn’t want me to cut off my nose despite my face so to speak. Which in other words meant he wanted me to stay, and scrub the sticky sap with a toothbrush. Whereas I wanted to leave, and send the universe a clear message regarding my intent, and its need to realign everything.

I couldn’t help but feel this was an important step in turning our lives around.

Normally I would have stayed, and simply gone with the flow. Hoping against hope that I could make a few pennies for the day. But I was sick of being a slave to my poverty.

Sure, going home wasn’t going to put coppers in the kitty, but something did indeed feel lighter about being elsewhere.

I tried to tell myself I was upset about not being rostered on, but I seriously was not.

Now if that doesn’t speak volumes…

Sure, I could have chosen to be opened on the system for the next day, but that didn’t sit well with me either.

So I spent the train trip beginning the long procrastinated task of hash tagging my internet content.

To be honest, I only just have a handle on what hash tagging actually means, which is why I haven’t done it sooner. However now I have the hang of it, they are going to be everywhere.

I felt productive as I stepped off the platform, and met my husband and daughter on the concourse.

I needed a blood test, so we did that, then Michael dropped Emily and me at the library for a play while he went and did the boring groceries.

Hello baking products, I’ve missed you.

Meanwhile Emily and I happily made use of the toddlers area, her with her bells on, which made my life that much easier, and some nice friendly parents and kids to boot.

We did our usual thing of climbing, jumping on cushions, crawling on beanbags, and walking around with mummy as her personal walking frame.

Then daddy came and got us and we went home.

I sculled a cup of tea while Emily scoffed a banana and a few peas before putting her to bed.

However, I felt as though I were in the way of Michael’s routine.

Therefore, while Emily slept, I found a corner on the lounge and began to blog.

It wasn’t working on the business per-say, but at least it was something.

I keep telling myself this blog will lead to financial gain in some way, be it directly or otherwise, but I just don’t know how that is going to look.

My friend Susan says my writing gets better with each entry, and to a certain extent, I think she is right.

I look over my earlier stuff, and wonder at what I was thinking.

The only thing, which puts my mind at ease about it, is that I have heard other bloggers say the same thing.

Meanwhile Michael again attempted to sort out his superannuation.

Good God, who would have thought it would take this many phone calls to roll it all over into one place.

Talk about a pain in the ass.

I hope that by the time he gets to mine, he’ll know all the tricks and trip hazards, and it won’t take nearly as long.

After Emily woke up, Emma, my orientation and mobility instructor dropped by with a couple of new canes.

I can’t believe in the last eighteen months I have gone from a 105cm to a 130cm as standard.

Now if that doesn’t speak volumes about how my vision is being a complete pain in the ass, nothing does.

We briefly touched on the whole guide dog thing, and only for the millionth time did I tell her I was really holding out for a robo-dog.

However, I agreed we would have the information session as arranged, even though I am not happy about it, and have already made up my mind.

There will be no dog.

A dog is something else I will need to manage. And I don’t want to manage anything.

I just want to see better.

There, I’ve said it.

I just want to see.

I remember when I could see more, and it was so much easier.

I just want that ease back again.

I know I have been bitching about this for the last little while, but that is because it has gotten so much harder of late.

Being a blindy is exhausting.

I am exhausted.

Not mamma exhausted. But blindy exhausted. And that is a whole other world of unimaginable exhaustion.

The strain is relentless.

It never ever ends.

I don’t know how to write it.

I say that because of something my friend Jo said regarding not realising what I was going through until my second last post.

It got me thinking that maybe I haven’t been clear enough.

I mean I know my blindy friends understand, because they tell me as such, and groan in empathy. But how do I put this into words that a sighted world will understand.

Obviously when I say it is too bright or too dark, that is not enough. So how do I say it is too bright and the glare swallows everything, as in literally everything with its enthusiasm.

How do I say it is like looking through a crystallised white sandstorm with Vaseline smeared across your lenses. Because is that what it truly is? Or is it something else entirely.

Maybe it is more like seeing life through a gossamer lace curtain, and not being able to open it and look clearly beyond the veil of material to the outside world.

Whatever it is, it kind of sucks.

It is a bumpy jolty bolty ride, which throws a girl’s being into all sorts of hard places. Rather like being in one car crash after another in quick succession.

After Emma left, Michael whisked Little out the door so they could play in the park.

The poor sweetie had been having such a difficult time with her teeth, and hadn’t been herself in days.

Those smiles of hers were few and far between.

However when she came back from the park, somehow she seemed brighter.

Meanwhile, I was feeling overwhelmed, and anxious. So there was nothing else for it but to bake a chocolate cake.

Sometimes it is the only thing I can do to find my equilibrium.

Getting her through the evening routine wasn’t too bad, and before we knew it she was down, and I was catching up on Grey’s Anatomy.

Emily slept well. What’s more, she didn’t come into us until Michael brought her in after 6:00AM. And even then, they got up and left me to it.

Thank God, because I needed the extra sleep.

I spent the morning pottering with Emily in the yard, and wondering how I could have more of that, but also have an income.

God, what I wouldn’t give more opportunities to sit in the sunshine, and not worry about money.

I don’t think I would find boredom in toddler time, as I quite enjoy the simplicity of exploring the world through Little’s eyes.

I am quite happy to sit on the floor and hand things back and forth a million times.

It is only my anxiety about the mighty dollar, which holds me hostage to the idea of I, should be doing something else.

However, in those rare moments I am able to escape from the chains of being poor as shit, I absolutely enjoy the repetitiveness of it all.

I mean isn’t this why we chose to have her?

TO enjoy the tiny moments.

To chase money spiders across the pavement, crunch our feet under leaves, play peekaboo through the slots of the climbing frame, and share slices of cheese.

Michael took baby girl for the afternoon, leaving me to work on the business.

I thought I was doing such a great job, until he came home and looked at the website.

He found so many mistakes, and we ran into so many hurdles, that by the end of the night, I felt defeated.

I wondered why we were even trying to do this.

I spent my alone time sitting either in the garden or on the lounge with my laptop ticking off some of the smaller actions we needed to complete to make this pie in the sky come to fruition.

As I watched the shadows lengthen, and the leaves fall, I wondered why everything seemed to take so long.

I love the crackle of the dead foliage under my feet. And I especially love it under Little, because it negates the need for bells.

The hours I have spent on this are ridiculous.

It was lovely to see Michael sit down and engage with the website after dinner.

Normally we are both so shagged of an evening that nothing gets done no matter how strong our intentions are earlier in the day.

However out of sheer frustration and a serious princess complex, I found myself in his words, yelling at him a lot, because I just wanted him to be where I was, and swoop in and make everything better. Even though I have had almost a year head start on him in the website building arena, and two years head start on research.

Sorry honey.

We both know I am falling apart at the edges, and my anger isn’t really about what I claim it to be.

Oh, if only one of those plug and play online shop monthly memberships weren’t so expensive.

Maybe if they halved their basic price I would consider it. However, with all those hidden extras, you have to be kidding.

Which is why we have gone with a particular WordPress plugin, which is now driving me crazy.

For whatever reason, we can’t get the images to display.

We can put them in, we can edit them, but they come up as checkerboards when we preview them.

Has anyone got any ideas on how to fix this minor detail?

It was after 11:00PM when we gave up and crawled into bed.

Speaking of which, guess who slept in their own bed for the entire night.

Thanks Little.

Wednesday morning we all woke feeling refreshed and energised.

However, for me it was a nervous energy.

I was to have Little all by myself for the next four nights, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I was so distracted by the task at hand that I forgot to brush my hair or put underwear on. And didn’t realise until much later in the day.

Michael got up with her just after 7:00AM, and they went downstairs to put the washing on.

She had already had a sneaky breakfast bottle in with us, so toast was delayed until I rose a few hours later.

I didn’t really need the sleep, but I was procrastinating about starting our five-day odyssey of just the two of us.

Michael and I enjoyed our morning coffee in the sunshine.

Me on the grass among the leaves, he in an old man chair, with Emily going back and forth between us.

After which, our toddler had a complete meltdown about mummy not being able to fit vertically under the dining room table.

Oh, we’re there, I said to him as we tried to console the cutie cute cute cute.

However apparently this was the end of the world as she knew it.

The only thing, which fixed it, was a new pair of pants, and a walk to the shops with daddy to fetch mummy some coffee pods.

This left me with a quick half an hour to do some more writing.

As I knew, I wouldn’t get anything done while my husband was away.

When they returned daddy packed his bag, while we did laps around the house.

Out the back door, around the rocking horse, past the car, the climbing frame, over the upside down clamshell pool, across the trampoline, back into the front door, through the gate, and out the back door again.

Michael gave her a bottle, put her down, and then quietly snuck out the front gate, and was on his way.

I’ll see you Friday, he said as he left.

By this time, I was so nervous about him leaving, that it was all I could do not to throw up.

I managed a quick yoga session while baby girl slept, and to eat some lunch. However, just as I had predicted, she was up on the hour, and we were playing put your dummy back in your bed please.

It is a game where she reaches into her cot, grabs her dummy, puts it in her mouth, I pretend to be shocked, I ask her to put it back in her bed, she does, then she tells me she has done so, claps her hands, and reaches back in to pick it up again.

We can spend ages going through this routine.

What I like about it most is that we converse about what we are doing.

We then went down stairs, I offered her some lunch at the picnic table, where she refused most of it, so we did laps around the house instead.

I should have realised it then, that her teeth must have been playing up again.

We had only gotten our happy baby back for a day and a half.

It was a trying afternoon, in terms of baby girl didn’t want to be left alone.

I never wanted to be the parent who was too tired to take her daughter to the park, but I was certainly feeling it that day.

Just as I was mustering the strength to defy my sleepiness, Emily seemed to lose the plot completely. So instead of taking her to the playground, I offered her an early bath and a pair of pink pyjamas instead.

Although the bath was quicker than I had intended, I have to say, I got those jim-jams on in record time.

Again we went downstairs where I offered her a bonus bottle, gave her dinner even though she protested the entire time, rang daddy to say good-night, then I put her down without incident.

However because I had given her the dose of emergency pain relief Michael had left us earlier, I then began to stress that we might need another dosage later in the evening.

I wasn’t sure what to do but I didn’t want to be worried about it all night.

Therefore, I decided to ask the neighbours for help.

They had always said if we needed anything… So this was their chance.

The first set I tried weren’t home.

I stood outside the front gate on the path for a few minutes trying to decide my next move.

I was worried if I went too far, that she would wake up.

Funny though, the fact that I was in my pyjamas, my hair tussled, and bare feet didn’t bother me at all.

The fact that I was even in pyjamas was impressive enough for me.

I mean I had managed a shower. SO take that inner worrywart.

I settled on the family we often see playing tennis.

They often say hello to us, and I knew that there would be no language barrier to navigate, so they seemed like a good idea.

Tony reloaded the pain relief, and within five minutes, I was back in the silence of our lounge room.

Miraculously baby girl was still sound asleep. Just as I had left her.

I would have felt terrible if I had come around the corner to hear her crying for me.

Thank you sweetie.

I couldn’t believe it when by 7:30PM I had eaten dinner, and was on the lounge half-watching crap on television, and half writing a blog.

However after a quick phone call to Michael, whereby I answered his questions regarding the website, and his finally taking an active interest in the building there of, By 9:30PM I gave up on the day, and went to bed.

Emily woke at 10:30PM for a quick feed, then again at 3:00AM.

However getting her down after that one was difficult. Nevertheless, we managed, and I did not hear a peep out of her for the rest of the night.

She woke just before 7:00AM, and amused herself for five or so minutes.

When I brought her in with me, she called for her daddy, but for no other reason than to say good morning.

By this I mean she did not seem distressed by his absence, and her tone suggested it was more of a where are you because here I am type enquiry.

In a bid to buy me more time, I gave her a breakfast bottle. However, it did not work.

Within ten minutes we were up, I was putting the washing on, and she was eating rice cake crumbs off the kitchen floor. Which by the way I made a conscious effort to sweep up last night. So go figure.

We were on fire.

Nothing like a slice of peanut butter toast to fling around the room in order to get a girl fired up for the day.


By 8:00AM, we were outside unpacking the equipment, and hanging out said washing like champions.

Talk about team Darcy; Little would hand mummy the pegs, and I would use them to hang the clothes. It may have taken us an hour to complete two loads of washing, but by God, we did it. What’s more, it was the best fun.

We spent the rest of the morning playing around the yard, eating snacks, and mummy even managed to sneak in a shower without too much fuss.

Thank God for coffee pods.

There is not a day, which goes by when I do not use that machine and thank Kristine and Randall for buying it for us.

I love you red monster.

Emily was up and down with her emotions.

I used to be the mummy who would fret about this, but now I let her process, because chances are, if I count to three, she will be over it before I am finished.

I do not know how verbal she is when it is just her and Michael, but we had the best conversations. True back and forth dialogue.

She may only use single words, but my brain translates them into the phrases she is trying to say. Therefore most of the time I am able to answer her with confidence.

Although if anyone knows what lolol is, I would greatly appreciate it.

I thought about taking her shopping, as it would fill in time, but we seemed to be having so much fun at home that I simply stayed where we were.

I also thought about inviting Emily’s friend Ronya over, but I did not want her mummy to judge the state of my kitchen, therefore I left the idea firmly lodged in my head.

After all, they would probably see each other on Friday at story time anyway, I continued to justify.

The truth was I was not sure I could cope with adult conversation.

Which is why a trip to the shops on the train seemed less strenuous than a quick walk to the park beside our house?

Even though none of these quite came to fruition just thinking about them in my head caused me to relax.

All I needed was to have a couple of options I was willing to follow through on up my sleeve, and everything would be fine.

I was less overwhelmed than I thought I would be, but I was relieved nonetheless when she went down for her nap.

This is not to say our sharing my lunch of rice and beans was not fabulous, but I did enjoy that lone cup of teatime, and quick twenty-minute power nap on the lounge just before she woke up.

Along with a lovely long, chat to my husband about the website.

It was nice to be talking to him regarding proper actionable steps for the business, and our hopes and dreams for how it would run. As it had been an age since we had discussed anything.

We each have great minds for this type of thing, but for some reason putting them into action has proven quite the stumbling block.

Michael says it is because we have a baby. however, I disagree.

I don’t think it would have happened even if we didn’t have a Little to look after.

We’re just not good at following through.

I reckon if we didn’t have her, he would still be working in his old job, utterly miserable, and I would still be looking for a new job, also utterly miserable.

At least this way we have the biggest ray of sunshine in our world, and he is happy.

So two out of three aint bad.

Ok, so maybe two and a half out of three. Because I am happy when I am with them, just not when I have to go to work.

Luckily, I feel like we are really working on that now.

Thanks darling.

I know it has taken you a while, as in forever to climb aboard this crazy bus, but here you are.

So welcome!

I think part of what has taken him so long is that he has been trying to be there in other ways for me, and hasn’t had time or the willingness to step up where I have actually needed him.

He, like me, has felt like he has to take on everything, and we haven’t divided the chores up in a way which plays to our strengths.

However now, hopefully we will each be on the same page, and things will begin to shift. Because God knows, we need them to.

Actually, I could not believe she slept as long as she did.

It was almost three hours’ worth of nap. And we had not even gone to the park.

By the time she woke up however, I was not capable of taking her anywhere, or so I thought. Therefore, we simply continued our playing in the back yard.

I took the washing off the line, she climbed on her equipment, and each of us was happy.

Giving her a bath was a nightmare.

For whatever reason she would not sit down, and screamed the house down to boot.

I wondered if her bottom was red, but I could not tell.

Therefore getting the food out of her hair was not easy.

I tried to wash her as best I could, but I was not feeling confident about how well a job I had done.

Then there was dinner.

Normally I would give that to her first, but she did not seem ready, and I needed to fill in time doing something else, which is why I had attempted a bath.

In my picture pink fantasy, she would play happily in the bath for a good twenty minutes, then I would get her out, dress her in under three minutes, we would go down stairs, she would eat dainty spoon full of mashed vegetables, where of course we wouldn’t spill a morsel, and then we would play quietly on the floor together until it was bed time.

Umm, yeah, no!

Dinner was a tearful affair as mummy shoved food in regardless.

Bib on, bib off, bib on, bib off.

Finally, I had told her to leave her bib on please as it made my life easier.

So she did. But then she proceeded to twist, turn, and climb out of her chair, thereby proving that it was not actually the bib that made my life easier, but in fact her.

I know this because, when I let her get away without wearing the bib, she sat down quietly and ate her dinner without making a fuss.

So it serves me right for not actually saying what I meant.

When what I meant was, that the bib would keep her clean for when I inevitably miss her mouth, thus making yet another change of outfit redundant.

Note to self…

Thankfully, she went down reasonably quickly after a long play in the lounge room and a phone call to daddy.

This enabled me to fritter away two hours of my life I will never get back by watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and wonder why on earth I was sitting their mesmerised by the toxicity of it all, when I could have been in bed.

The cutie cute cute cute had a really good night, and didn’t wake until 1:30AM for a feed and change, followed by a 5:55AM bonus breakfast bottle, whereby although I was prepared to get up, I brought her in with me, and we subsequently held hands and fell asleep until 7:20AM where I think I might have woken her by my movement.

Sorry sweetie pie.

I have to admit, I did not bounce out of bed with the same energy I had done the previous day, but once I got going everything was ok.

In fact, I was feeling so confident, that I told Michael to stay where he was, and we would see him on Sunday as originally arranged.

I cannot say I was on top of things as much as I had been in the twenty-four hours previous, but we managed.

Emily was really clingy which made life difficult.

I scrubbed the sink with a toddler doing her best to pull my pyjama pants down around my ankles for the world to see.

However it was one of those jobs that yes was necessary, and once a girl starts, she cannot really stop, pants or no pants.

It was not until we hung out the washing a little later that baby girl found her happy place.

Toast had been a disaster, toys had been ignored, and up until that moment, it was all about being on mummy’s hip.

It took forever to leave the house.

As in two hours kind of forever.

Two hours to get us each dressed and out the door.

Three and a half if you count the two loads of washing, sweeping the kitchen floor, and speaking to daddy.

Admittedly, mummy needed a shower while somebody sat at the gate below the stairs and cried the entire time, even though they had originally been playing happily with the electronic froggy block stacker thingy when I bounded up the stairs, throwing clothes as I went.

And somebody did need to change their outfit twice. Once because who knew if there was vegemite on those cutie watermelon pants or not, and once because the cutie little sailor dress she had chosen, no longer fit.

Not to mention a fashion crisis for mummy.

This was followed by the great water bottle hunt, because guess who couldn’t find any one of the three different drinking containers we have.

Then there was the clandestine preparing and packing of snacks, along with a bonus nappy change, and a big argument over the trike.

As in, I wanted to take the trike, but she did not.

Well she did, but at the same time, she did not want to be strapped in.

However, I was not prepared to carry her on my hip that morning, and the pram was not an option either.

Although maybe it should have been.

However, I had needed the cane for identification purposes, and the trike would allow me that privilege.

I had wanted to take her to story time at the library, even though the process intimidates me.

Normally I leave that to Michael.

As I slowly pushed her along with my new almost as tall as me trike pushing cane with the big ass snowball tip on the end, I mused over how lucky I have been in terms of no one ever making me feel like I had no right to have children.

Talk about gratitude summoning the devil.

We had made it all the way to the library without incident, and just a little help from another mamma as we hit the ramp leading to the entrance, as it was far too noisy for me to gage anything, when it happened.

Just as I had walked through the second entrance, another mother told her daughter to get out of the way.

Immediately I stopped out of instinct, as I had not even sensed a child in front of me.

How odd, I thought as I apologised to the mother.

Sorry, I said. I stopped to make sure she was safe.

I didn’t want to run into her, I continued cheerfully.

Oh, you didn’t. But…! She responded in a tone that I don’t even know how to describe.

It smacked of a judgement so hard, and so horrid, that I was left feeling as though I had just been slapped.

It was a kind of interaction I had never experienced before.

But what, I wanted to ask, but my tongue froze in my mouth.

But I shouldn’t be out?

But I shouldn’t have Kids?

But what?

There is no way I had come close to her kid.

What the fuck was her problem?

Whatever it was, it was something big, because I was left with a horrible taste.

How had that one little word tacked on to the end of her response made such a difference.

There was something so malicious about how she had employed it.

What bitchy thing to do, I thought as I continued toward the isles of books.

That was so unnecessary.

Fuck you, I scowled back at her in my head.

Not that it made me feel any better mind you.

I had wanted to chase after her and confront the situation.

However having Little with me, meant that I had to show some restraint.

When I rang my mum to tell her about it later, she told me not to read anything into it.

However, it pisses me off when people say that.

People are always telling me I think too deeply.

But no!

No, I just have a difficult time glossing over things.

I know what is between the words.

So again, I am left asking, how the hell do I deal with this and explain it to Emily. Because surely if I am aware of it, she too will be aware.

I don’t want to have her unable to articulate this kind of shit, and be left wondering if it is her that is wrong.

I don’t think she should be forced to cut off her abilities just to make others more comfortable.

Not the way her mummy does.

The interaction continued to haunt me all day.

I felt destroyed as I unbuckled Emily out of her trike, and we found a little space just back from the circle of parents.

Good God, give me ignorance and indifference over this any day, I thought as we began to sing a song I did not know the words or actions for.

However, the next minute, Emily’s friend Ronya came and sat beside us.

I had put the call out via social media earlier to all the mums to say where we would be, but I had not heard back.

Come to think about it, I had forgotten.

Therefore, it was a nice surprise to see them.

I had thought I would feel more out of place, the way I usually do in these situations, but honestly, it did not bother me.

Maybe because our friends were next to us, or maybe because I was just too tired, who knew. And more to the point, who the hell cared.

I was so wrapped up in Little, that I did not have time to worry about not being able to make eye contact, or smile sweetly at the other mummies.

I did not even care that I could not read the book.

I was simply impressed that we had managed to leave the house.

Yes, it was difficult, but I was so over that being my mantra.

Difficult or not, I was no longer going to allow it to hold me back.

I was sick of being the worst version of myself.

I simply needed to get on with the business of being fabulous, and not worry about the disappearing details of my world.

After stories, we played with Ronya and her mummy in the library for a little while.

The girls running up and down between the tall shelves of books.

Well, Ronya ran, while Emily crawled after her.

However whereas Ronya might be upright, Emily is the biggest monkey legs, and can climb anything.

I have concluded, part of why she is not walking yet, is because mummy is not ready.

I think on some level that she senses I am going through a transition, and that her holding my hands works best for all of us.

Because honestly, if she were walking right now, and not holding my hands, I think my hair would have turned white with the worry.

She does not seem to be interested in taking any steps independent of our support lately.

However, I am noticing her begin to stand up for a second or five on her own.

Although I think this is when she forgets to think about it. Syren and I compared notes on how the girls were progressing before heading to the supermarket.

Tins of formula have become my new tinned tomatoes.

I need there to always be a spare in the cupboard in order to feel abundant.

In addition, going to buy it myself helps me feel on top of this parenting gig.

So we stopped at the pharmacy for supplies, and then headed to the butcher, before finally hitting the grocery store.

A whirlwind trip if I had been on my own would have taken at least three times as long.

I felt bad, because I kept running into the back of Syren’s legs with my cane.

I have since decided it is far too long for me to manage, and we need to dial it back about 10cm to match the front wheel of the trike and use a smaller tip.

God, what I would not give for a silent tip.

I had hoped Syren would suggest a cup of coffee, as I knew she was eager to catch up, and I deliberately had not made myself a second one earlier that morning just in case.

However, it was not to be.

She was obviously in a hurry, as evident by her not walking us home. Which is something she has insisted upon in the past.

Therefore, I did not even suggest it.

I had forgotten to enquire about something for Emily at the chemist, so we stopped into another, where I had been trying to build a relationship for years.

However, like usual, the guy was a bit of an ass-whole. And made me feel like an inconvenience.

Dude, I don’t ask you questions just for you to lead me to the nearest product line.

I ask you because you are supposed to have a greater more in-depth knowledge of pharmaceutical type stuff than your lovely well-meaning sales staff.

Therefore, I had not felt comfortable in asking him to check her for new teeth, a rash, or possible spider bights.


Slowly I strolled home with baby girl, surrendering to the fact it takes me forever to do the simplest and shortest of tasks and distances.

However maybe here in is where the lesson lay.

Maybe I simply need to slow down.

I have always been in a rush.

As in, I was born that way.

And I have not stopped since.

It is as if I am afraid time is going to get the better of me. Therefore, I need to race those tick tick ticking minutes.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

The idea of those seconds passing me by makes me anxious.

As in paralysed by fear type anxious.

The sunshine was delicious on the back of my neck.

It seems that at the moment, sunshine is one of my biggest needs.

I need it to warm my bones, and lighten my heart.

I need it to soak away the sadness, and soothe the bitterness I am feeling.

Have I mentioned how sick I am of being this person?

After a spot of lunch, Emily went down without a fight.

She gave me an hour, whereby rather than writing the blog or doing some yoga, I simply sat on the back step with a cup of coffee, a slice of chocolate cake, and a literary essay for company.

Part of me felt bad for not being more productive, but I just needed to stop for a second.

After cleaning the kitchen yet again, I was grateful that Michael had not returned home for a visit the way he had intended. Because by then, he would have had to leave again to beat the traffic, and chances were, I would still be as worn out as I already was.

At least this way, I had something to show for it.

I had spent forty-eight hours with Little all by myself.

Sure, it may not be an accomplishment for someone else, but for me it was massive.

Not only that, I had managed the house, ensured we had enough milk and pain relief to survive, and we had been on an outing.

We had survived two nights with just one another for support, and although we had two more to go, there was something about being able to do this without him, that had finally broken the back of a long held insecurity I have had regarding being Little’s mummy.

Sure, the pace was fast, but I was actually enjoying it.

When she woke, we played in Darcy Park for a little while, before I took her to the doctors.

I had been worried about her temperature continuing to spike of an evening, and with Michael being away, I needed someone else to give her a once over.

So off to the doctors in the hope that the reception staff would be sympathetic to my cause and fit us in, we went.

This time I put her on the hippy thing, as it was easier than trying to navigate the stairs with a set of wheels.

I had also waited until it was late enough that the afternoon sun would have dipped behind the buildings, thereby eliminating the glare.

I had thought about asking one of the neighbours, but I did not want them to feel responsible.

Sure, it may have been overly cautious on my part, but when it comes to Little, and my peace of mind therein, I will go to the ends of the earth.

Hello, the receptionists said in unison as we pushed open the big glass door.

Do we have you in?

Umm, no, I replied rather sheepishly.

I know this is a long shot, but my husband is away, and I need someone to give baby girl a once over.

I am worried she is not herself, and there is something I have missed.

It is my first time flying solo, and I am being neurotic.

They laughed.

Sure, one woman said, as the other raced to pluck my file from the cabinet.

We will put you in now.

I sat down, lifting Emily off my hip, whereby she immediately crawled to the coffee table and started deconstructing the piles of outdated magazines with the Kardashians on the cover.

One of the receptionists squatted down and played with her while we waited.

However thankfully we were not made to wait for too long.

Because we were running out of magazines to surreptitiously slide off the table followed by an o-oo.

I struggled to pick up my bag, cane, and the hippy thing. So in my haste, I simply gave up, and held Little’s hands as she made her own way into the doctor’s office. Leaving my items piled on the floor in the reception area.

What seems to be the problem, he asked as we sat down.

I explained the situation, and he acted accordingly.

We have never taken Emily to the doctors before, so I did not really understand what he was doing, or where he needed me to move her for ease of access.

Thus, the poor guy was left kneeling on the floor, twisting his head at an unnatural angle to peer into her ear with his special ear seeing thingy.

She handled that well, along with the stethoscope, which she thought was fascinating. But when it came to check her throat, she was not happy.

And it went downhill from there.

She did not want her belly touched, and was pretty much over the whole experience.

So without further ado, we exited the surgery with instructions to give her pain relief if she needed it.

The doctor thought along with her teething, she had a belly bug.

That would explain her being out of sorts more than usual, I thought as we made our way home.

We decided that we had earned a twilight play in the park.

So off we went.

It was empty when we arrived, and baby girl nearly had kittens, when I put her down on the bottom step of the equipment. She was so excited.

We had not been to the park since before daddy had left. And considering she is often there more than once a day, it had been a very very long time between slides, swings, and seesaws.

Up and over the rickety bridge she went, then down the slippery-dip.

All by herself.

She did this two or three more times while I filled Michael in on what the doctor had said.

However, clever climby pants fell off the bottom of the slide as she so often does.

It was growing dark quickly, and I was worried I would not be able to get her home safely.

The pathway through the greenery and beside the tennis courts is not lit.

In addition, the drunken guy incident briefly crossed my mind.

So I bundled baby girl up, and by this I mean, she grabbed my index fingers and we walked ringlets around the equipment, through the gate, and part way up the path toward our house before she let me pick her up.

There was a little girl playing tennis with her mother, and Emily was mesmerised.

When we got home, I thought I would take a different tact from the two evenings previous, and I would give baby girl her dinner before her bath.

I always get confused about which strategy is best to use around that time of the day.

I mean of course it makes sense to give her food first, but sometimes it just does not work out that way.

In an ideal world, I would like to fill her tummy to the brim before bed, and giving her dinner after her bath, at least in theory, means she will be fuller for longer, and maybe will not wake up so soon in the middle of the night.

Umm, no.

Anyway, we battled our way through dinner, and then into the bath.

The only positive being, that after dinner, when I asked her if she wanted to walk to mummy, she stood up out of her chair, and took four conscious, well thought out, pause in between each step steps.

In the past, she has always put one foot in front of the other for momentum, rather than anything confident. So this was a big moment for us. Especially since, she has shown no interest in walking for ages.

But as I said, it is not as we are in a hurry.

I struggled to get all the elements we needed to complete for that time of the day in sequence.

There is just so much to think about.

Close the blinds, run the bath, find a towel, remember the toys, put her pyjamas on the bed, and so on.

All this with a squirmy wormy baby who is grizzling, and simultaneously wants to be in the bath, but does not want to leave my hip.

I did what Michael suggested, and put her in her room with the child gate closed.

However rather than this being a positive experience for each of us, she just stood there and screamed.

I tried singing songs at the top of my voice, so she would know I was not far away, but with no effect.

Sometimes I wonder why we have toys in her room at all.

She never plays with them.

Occasionally she will throw them across the room, but that is all.

Her unhappiness caused me to become flustered.

How could I climb over the gate, and retrieve her pyjamas from her cupboard with her crying and clutching at my pants like that.

So it was easier to pick her up, undress her in the bathroom, and leave the pyjamas until afterward.

However this presented its own problem, in that I had been so hasty to soothe her serious abandonment issue, I had forgotten to open the gate.

Therefore I was left with said squirmy wormy wet baby, half wrapped in a towel, to unlatch the gate with one hand, rummage through her cupboard for afore mentioned pink pyjamas, and then take her to our bed, which is where she likes to do her peak a bottom game before putting her clothes back on in preparation for sleep.

I don’t like her playing on our bed, because as I have mentioned before, it is rather high, and she is rather quick.

I worry that I am not going to catch her in time when she attempts to escape.

However this is all part of the routine daddy and her have set up, and I wanted to stick to it as closely as possible.

So we played. And guess what, baby girl did her first summersault.

Well done sweetie.

Getting her down was easy.

Within fifteen minutes, she was sound asleep, and I did not hear from her until 1:30AM, where I gave her a bottle, changed her nappy, and she slept through until 7:00AM.

I liked this solo life, if it meant we each got some more sleep.

I had to wonder why it was not like that when daddy was around.

It took me a minute or so to get going on Saturday morning, so I gave her a bonus breakfast bottle to buy me another fifteen minutes.

I had been so on top of things on Thursday morning, but Saturday was another story.

However once we were up, and I had made love to my magic coffee machine, it was all good.

We put a load of washing in the machine, opened the back doors, and were into the yard before the sunshine had hit the pavement.

I realised that in order to feel as though I had this, we needed to be dressed and ready to go as soon as possible.

By this I mean, dressed in proper going out clothes, not sloppy staying home attire.

On Friday, I had purposely given her completely mismatched things to choose from. And as fun as it was, I prefer it when there is some sort of coordination. Therefore, I chose her Saturday outfit myself.

In fact, I was so in the zone, that I wore a skirt.

I never wear dresses these days, and it was strange to have bare legs.

However, the weather was beautifully warm, so I made the most of it.

I had been planning to take us to the local shopping mall on the train, however just as we were hanging the second load of washing out, and deciding whether the sun was in the optimal position to make my job easier, when we got a call from Ronya’s mummy, asking if we would like to go to her house.

I did not like to refuse, as she has often asked us to hang out, and we have been busy.

Sure, I said as Emily rocked with no hands on her rocking horse.

It is only a matter of time until she falls off that thing.

I think I should put the soft mat down under it, but I never do.

But well done on no hands Little, that is awesome balancing.

Emily was ready to leave the house within thirty seconds.

So I strapped her into her trike, and even though I knew we would have to wait outside the supermarket as agreed for our friends, we took off.

Ok, so took off might imply the wrong thing.

We started our slow coach journey up the street.

I was having a bit of a shocker as we crossed the first road, and missed the ramp on to the opposite footpath by about a metre.

The car idling on the road diagonally opposite, waiting to turn the corner made me anxious.

A gentleman must have seen this, because as we turned to cross the adjoining crossing, he got up from his seat in the café on the corner, and helped us across.

Thank you I said as he left us to continue our adventure.

Up and over the station we walked, across another road, up the hill, across the lights, down the path, across another set of lights where we got stuck on those gas metre thingies, which stick out of the footpath, and along to the supermarket entrance we travelled.

We did not have to wait long until Ronya and her parents arrived.

Emily sat quietly in her pram playing with Ronya’s daddy as Syren raced into the grocery store for some goods.

I had thought about bringing a smaller cane with me, more for Emily to hold than anything, but had decided against it. However as I handed the trike to Syren, I wished I had followed through on the instinct.

As it was, I had to tuck the handle of my cane under my arm, and hold it one-third the way down the shaft so I could use it.

I felt ridiculous.

We had never been to Ronya’s house before, so I made sure I paid attention to where we were headed, as I had feeling that Syren had not factored in that she would not be able to walk me home, as by the time we left it would be time for Ronya to have a nap.

It was just as well really, because that is exactly what happened when it was time to leave.

In the meantime, the girls played with toys, danced to kid’s music, and ate copious amounts of food.

I had to laugh when Syren gave the girls matching plates of fruit, and they each reached for the others.

Michael and me are a big fan of sharing, and would have simply put down one large plate and let them figure it out themselves.

My husband says by encouraging the sharing of food, it encourages the sharing of everything. Be it friendship, toys, time, or people.

Poor Syren was mortified when Ronya became jealous of Emily as she took Syren for an explore of their apartment.

I felt bad for her, and even though Ronya can walk, I grabbed her hands in the same way Emily had Syren’s, and we followed.

This seemed to put her at ease, and her parents couldn’t believe she held on for so long.

Apparently, Miss Ronya doesn’t hold hands.

I laughed.

Kids seem to know, I thought in response.

Ronya has been going to play group for about six months now, and I was surprised at her progress.

We hadn’t taken Emily, partly because we couldn’t afford it, and partly because Michael didn’t think she would benefit. However now I am re-thinking that idea, and wondering how to make it happen.

I have since suggested that they go once every two weeks on a casual basis, and explore all the playgroups in the area, to see if one fits.

Although ultimately, I would prefer she went to Montessori, than anywhere else.

By Syren’s own admission, Ronya is an anxious and sensitive little girl, so to hear how she was no longer scared of the bigger kids, and to see her dancing with the actions along to the kid’s songs that Syren had downloaded on to her phone was brilliant.

I wondered why we hadn’t thought of doing that.

Note to self, checkout kids’ stuff on iTunes, and be held to ransom in order to purchase them.

Thanks Syren, you have given us some great ideas.

As with all parenting styles, we are each different, but it was good to discuss ideas and bounce questions off of each other.

The girls are only a week apart in age, so it is interesting to note how different their personalities and learning styles.

On the one hand I had hoped they would walk me back to the supermarket, as from there I was confident in how to get home. However, it wasn’t to be. So up the steep steep hill we set toward the highway.

By the way, honey, we are not living on a hill as long as we have the pram.

Pushing the trike in one hand, my cane in the other, and a bulky nappy bag on my shoulder was hard work. It reminded me just how unfit I have allowed myself to become.

It reminded me just how unhappy I am in my own body right now.

Hello detox.

I am not sure, when it happened, but low and behold, Emily fell asleep. As in sound, sound asleep.

However God bless the cutie cute cute cute she still had hold of my cane.

I was nervous walking along the highway as it is so busy, and those daydreams of being run over by a random car have not left me.

However imagine my delight when I crossed the lights to find that we were on the side of the next road I needed, and didn’t have to cross another set, the way I had strategized.

In fact, I had spent half a block, and the five minutes waiting for the lights to change worrying about it, and wondering if I should pick a different way.

I nearly woohooed aloud.

We were so much closer to home than I had realised.

However, to the man who insisted on walking along the skinny part of the path just as we were crossing the rail bridge, you could have waited kind sir. After all, we were on first, and had right of way. Surely, you could have seen my big ass cane with the big ass ball on the end. There was no need to literally push past me and run me into the wall.

I hate saying fuck you, but by God, I think it a lot.

I guess it just shows how close to boiling point I am, because there is very little room in my universe for graciousness right now, let alone taking the moral high ground. But I guess that is obvious by the amount of swearing that has crept into the pages of this blog recently.

Granted, most people are lovely, but the ones who are not, really piss me off.

I am doing the best I can, and right now, that doesn’t feel like it is best enough. So yeah, I am on the defensive. Because if I don’t do that, then I might shrivel up and die.

I know this too shall pass, but it is where I am for now, and if I don’t write about it, then what is the point in writing at all.

At first this blog was a way of documenting Little’s milestones, so when she inevitably asks me when she is older what she learned to do when, I would have an answer. However, it has transformed into something I hadn’t expected, a personal story. And I want to keep it real.

Little must have been tired, because even as I brushed past bushes, crashed into fences, and bumped over bumps, she stayed asleep.

I couldn’t believe when she didn’t wake up as I unbuckled her and carried her up to bed.

She slept for another hour and a half before waking.

This gave me time for another coffee, a chat with Michael, and a flick through Facebook.

I felt guilty I wasn’t writing, but again, I just wanted to sit in the sunshine, enjoy the birds, and soak up some nature love.

I find myself sitting on the grass more and more often these days.

Partly it is due to my chasing the sun, and partly it is due to the lovely green colour.

When she woke, we spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the yard.

I had planned to take her to the park, but it suddenly seemed very late very quickly.

Therefore, we amused ourselves by taking the rubbish out early.

However as we were on our way back from the bin room, past all the townhouses in our complex, Emily suddenly stopped, and turned toward a neighbours door.

As far as I know, she has never done that before. But as we listened, we could hear someone behind the wall.

It was so cute to see Emily edge ever closer to the scratching and scraping of terracotta pots across the pavement.

I wasn’t sure who we would find, but just as we were almost at the front door, the lovely old biddy from number something or other, popped her head around the corner.

Oh, hello, she said to baby girl.

Emily gave her the biggest smile, and practically bounded into her legs.

I had seen her around, but we had never formally introduced ourselves.

Of course, she already knew Emily, as most people in our makeshift community do, but it was nice to talk properly.

Within five minutes, Emily had wrangled herself an invite inside the house for a visit, and got busy exploring everything.

I am fairly certain it made Pat’s day to have a little guest so full of life and energy entre her otherwise solitary environment.

However after twenty minutes of Emily’s frenetic pace, I scooped her up, and we reluctantly left.

I liked that baby girl felt comfortable enough to approach our neighbour. I would hope that she could do that with all of them. After all, in terms of a geographical village, this is all we have. And I would hope that the neighbours would look out for her.

This doesn’t mean I am going to let her go off on her own any time soon, but I can see the wisdom in her reaching out.

What made it even funnier, was the next morning, when we took the rubbish out again, she picked a different neighbour to explore. It was as if once she had found out there was something behind that big white wall, she needed to know what was behind every white wall.

You are just like your mummy in that way honey.

The only thing which stopped me, was the fact although she was dressed in a cute little outfit of stripy tights, white top, and denim pinafore, I was still in my pyjamas. And these were neighbours that although I may have seen, we had not spoken at all.

Saturday night we went through the same routine of fighting through dinner and a bath, before she pulled every toy from her shelves in the last five minutes of the day.

It is as if she can’t go to bed unless they are strewn across the floor.

Thanks honey, I appreciate spending twenty minutes putting the puzzle back together, which took you two seconds to tip out.

And yes, stacking cardboard Peter Rabbit boxes one inside the other, after hunting for number 9, is exactly how I like to spend my evening.

Lucky you’re so cute.

I was so tired that I fell into bed not long after her.

However not before calling Michael, and asking him if he would come home the following day.

He was due anyway, so it was sort of a joke.

I thought he would appreciate it, the way he so often does.

However, he didn’t respond the way he normally would, and I was left feeling like a burden.

He was supposed to say, ummm, ok with a laugh. However, he had said something about of course I am coming home why are you asking. And yes, he knew it was intense to look after Emily.

Yes, I had defended, but you haven’t done it for days and nights on your own yet.

And then I made the fatal mistake of asking him whether taking care of us was like looking after two children, and he did not say no.

I had expected him to say of course not.

However his response of let’s not get into this now, and you are making some bad choices because you’re exhausted, did not help soothe my ego.

I didn’t feel good about my contribution and myself to this marriage as we retreated from the conversation.

Therefore when he rang the next morning to tell me he was on his way, it felt a little awkward and tense between us.

Although whether he noticed or not is another matter.

Again baby girl only woke up once through the night, and I didn’t see her until 7:00AM on the dot.

Instead of waking up with a whinge, she woke up happy happy happy.

It was music to my ears to hear her call my name.

However to figure out what h oho ho meant was impossible.

What was she asking me for I wondered as I brought her in for that now traditional bonus breakfast bottle.

However, this time it wasn’t to buy me anymore-horizontal time, but rather just to have a cuddle, and avoid having to try to feed her solids for breakfast.

If I give her a bottle, then we can skip straight to toast, which is much easier for me.

She seemed to wake up a different girl from the one she had been previously.

Her language was different, her movement different, and I swear to God she was heavier.

Ho h oho, b aba ba, she kept asking as I took her down stairs.

Still I had no idea.

However, I took advantage of her independent play, and raced up for a shower.

I even took the calculated risk of setting up the equipment in Darcy Park, and leaving one of the screen doors open for her to explore the yard if she wanted.

However sure enough, I found her exactly where I had left her when I came down ten minutes later.

Thanks baby girl.

I think I have watched too many American dramas where kids are taken from the house or yard, because every cry I hear in the distance, when I am not sure where Emily is, has my heart racing.

I couldn’t believe it when she ate the entire slice of peanut butter toast I made for her.

There was so much to do before Michael arrived home.

Clean the kitchen for the millionth time. Although how Emily keeps finding food when I have been over every inch of that floor on my hands and knees with a wet rag, and then a dustpan and broom, I will never know.

Then I began to disband the man mountain of clothing which had been guarding our bedroom while he was gone, along with washing Emily’s sheets, and pack away the unused travel cot I had set up in my room several nights previously just in case.

I found that leaving the gate below the stairs open was useful in terms of putting Emily’s mind at ease.

For whenever she called to me from downstairs, and I called back to let her know where I was, she could come and find me without fuss.

This seemed to encourage her to play by herself in other parts of the house.

So although we have the gate to keep her from climbing the crappy stairs, maybe we need to start opening it up more so she can.

Oh but if only those railings were vertical instead of horizontal.

I can’t quite trust that she will not fall between them in her haste or curiosity, whichever comes first.

However The time seemed to fly throughout the morning, and before we knew it, daddy was coming through the front gate calling Little’s name, and she was racing through the back of her car to get to him.

My eyes filled with tears of happiness as I saw him gather her up into his loving arms.

They were thrilled to see one another.

I knew he must have missed her, because he was home half an hour earlier than he said he would be, and he had taken the quick road.

Before having Emily and he had been away, he would always arrive mid-afternoon after being for a long long boring drive.

But this was before lunch.

Clearly, it was far too exciting to have a nap, so Emily played either up or down while Michael helped with the man mountain, and unpacked his own things.

I’m not sure when it was, but Michael decided they would go to the shops and the park for an adventure, leaving me to the organisation of my wardrobe.

It occurred to me as I rearranged hangers, that I had wanted an entirely new set of clothes, and had promised myself that after Emily had turned one, I would ditch the frumpy who gives a crap new mummy clothes, and get something more exciting.

However in my head this would involve shopping, which in turn would require money.

I had not planned on the universe, also known as hotel Katie Lee in this case, being so generous.

Because when I looked at my newly aquired attire, some of it was stuff I had owned from a decade earlier, some of it was things Katie had aquired from a decade earlier, and some of it was new new new.

But either way, I hadn’t had to go shopping, I hadn’t had to fork out money we did not have, but I had aquired some more colour and creativity for my fashion selection, and who could argue with that.

Thanks Katie.

And thank you universe.

That was a well thought out plan.

Now not to be ungrateful, but what else you got?

There were items within the mish mash that I wondered how I could have parted with in the first place.

Hello old friends.

I promise to love you once more.

Sometime later, Michael returned with one sleeping baby in the pram.

I was surprised to see her slumbering, as she had been so full of beans when they had left.

Meanwhile he busied himself around the house, as I curled up on the lounge with a blanket, and eBay for company.

I am on a mission for a wooden table and chair set for Emily, but am having trouble deciding on which one to get.

I became a little upset as he explained to me how I had stacked the steriliser with bottles the wrong way, but only because I had been waiting for him to tell me I had done a good job with the house, and Little looked healthy and clean, but this was all he could come up with.

It wasn’t so much that I wanted a medal, but rather just an acknowledgement of how well I had done.

After all, he more than anyone knew how anxious I was about having her to myself.

However after he explained to me that of course I had done well, and that yes he should have pointed these things out also, we were fine.

As we spoke, it occurred to me just how much of a control freak I am, and just how many scripts we have running.

Again, I had fully expected the conversation to go one way, and it had travelled in another direction.

How interesting, I thought.

It had never occurred to me how the repetitiveness of our conversations was forcing us into a particular groove, but what did it all mean.

Had his time away also changed something within him as well?

I mean for me, I had learned that I could do toddler time, and was far more capable of parenting than I had given myself credit for.

I now knew that if he wasn’t around, we would be ok.

Whereas before this, I had needed him. And the idea of needing him had not sat well with me.

I felt more empowered as her parent, and also as his wife than ever.

So what would this look like moving forward?

Had he also picked up on this difference, and it was manifesting itself as a deviation from our usual?

Oh how exciting, I thought as we continued to find the middle ground.

Then as if on cue, Emily woke up, and after a quick dish of blueberries, they were back down the park.

It was awkward to have the three of us in the kitchen, and I knew it would take some adjusting.

It felt strange to be without Emily by my side.

How quickly I had adjusted to our new dynamic, I thought as I began to catch up on the blog.

They returned just before dark, whereby I have to admit to being relieved Michael was there to help with the next part of the routine.

It was nice to have another pair of hands to divide and conquer the micro tasks of closing the house, preparing dinner, and organising the cutie cute cute cute for bed.

I felt vindicated as she screamed the house down when he put her in the bath, and then giggled her head off as they played on the bed, followed by more tears as he fed her dinner.

Oh, so it wasn’t just me, I thought as I continued to snatch five minutes here and there to write a paragraph or two.

It was obvious that Emily was beside herself with joy to have her daddy home, as she kept walking me into the kitchen, and asking me to hold her so she could look at him.

Anything he had, she wanted.

Which is how she came to have second dinner.

Half a banana, a mushroom, three olives, a slice of raw zucchini, and some wayward grated cheese later, she was almost ready for bed.

And by almost, I mean we were ready for her to go to bed.

However again, not before pulling all her toys off of her shelf for good measure.

However, this time I left them for Michael to pick up.

Not because I was being lazy, as is often my way, but because he had insisted.

It was as if he needed to assert himself back into the routine.

Putting sweetie pie down took forever.

It wasn’t a stressful experience; in terms of she was happy.

I had let Michael do it, so she would know that he was home properly.

However, they had five days of stories to catch up upon, and Emily was determined to tell him everything.

After forty-five minutes, I made the mistake of tag teaming.

I had thought it would help, but it only served to upset madam butterfly bottom, as I realised the moment I sat down next to her, how she was telling daddy all the news, and I had interrupted.

Oh God, I thought. Why hadn’t I checked in with the situation first.

How had it not occurred to me that she was talking to him about everything.

Why had I felt the need to take over.

The truth was, I had made an assumption regarding how he was feeling, and instead of asking, I had just barged on in, and wanted to be needed.

What the hell, I wondered as the lightning bolt struck. Could I ask him to come back?

After calming sweetie pie down, and having her change tact, and tell me that dadadadadada was ha ha hah, which meant daddy was home, at least a thousand times, her temperature began to spike.

SO I went downstairs, gathered up the pain relief, along with another bottle, and took them back to administer.

However, Michael had insisted on following me up the stairs and doing it himself.

I thought I had gotten her to sleep, when suddenly she perked up, sat up, and continued talking.

By this time, I was cold, and had lost enthusiasm for the project.

I knew it was only because she was excited, but I really needed to warm up in the shower.

I don’t know either why Emily is happy when we are in the room and making physical contact, but the moment we try to sit in the rocking chair and simply keep her company, or worse, leave the room all together, all hell breaks loose.

She can cry for a little while, I said to him as I began to run the hot water.

However as steaming as I made the temperature, I couldn’t bring my body to a comfortable level.

Even as I hopped out, I was still cold.

Thankfully, in the meantime, Michael had intervened, and somehow managed to put Emily to sleep.

Well done honey.

So this is where we are; munching on the best homemade pizzas ever, watching Master Chef, and my trying desperately to get this post finished.

Welcome home honey.

I missed you, and simultaneously didn’t miss you.

Thanks for the empowerment.

However, this doesn’t mean I have quite wrapped my head around your next trip, but I do feel more confident about your newfound willingness to explore new things.

And thank you for finally finally becoming involved with the electronic side of the business.

I know it takes you a thousand requests before you get with the program, but I also know it will take you ten thousand requests and then some to disengage.

So welcome to the club. I am happy you are here.

Maybe now there is hope for my ambition after all.



Published inBlind Is The New BlakBusiness BanterMarried LifeMoney MattersMotherhoodThe Blunder Weeks

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