Every now and then, for whatever reason, hubby has to leave ridiculously early for work.
We used to wake the kids to say goodbye because they used to freak out if they woke up in the morning and he wasn’t here. These days it’s too hard to get them back to sleep so we don’t bother. They’re old enough to understand that sometimes daddy is home, sometimes he’s not, and all that matters is how they spend the time together that they do have.
So on the odd occasion in shadow of darkness, at stupid o’clock, he slips away quietly. He is pretty good at it now. He lays out his clothes the night before. He says goodbye to the kids the night before. He organises everything he needs the night before. He’s decided it’s not worth fully waking me up either.
Often a wet kiss tickling my cheek is all I’m aware of before rising later on in the morning. Other times, all his careful planning goes out the window when he doesn’t snap out of a deep sleep quickly enough to realise that his alarm is indeed going off before I do and I need to quietly shove him.
These times are the interesting times. Do I get up and see him off? It’s always nice to do so but it’s also equally nice to simply fall back to sleep. After all, if he’s trying so hard to keep me sleeping, it’s hardly nice for him if I then get up and straggle around like a zombie. The kind thing to do is to let him be the hero who leaves his wife and children sleeping while he goes out to earn a living for us all.
Sometimes I’m so torn, drifting in and out of sleep, that before I actually come-to entirely, he’s already gone. These are the days that confuse me. I can’t say goodbye but I can’t seem to sleep either. My brain gets in the way.
It’s days like these that I feel extremely privileged and slightly guilty to be a stay at home mum. Occasionally I get a glimpse of how hard it must be for Corey to be the only one getting up and moving in a house of sleeping beauties. I also think about how hard it would be for me to have to juggle working as well as being a mum.
I’ve not had to be responsible for getting myself up and happening and being somewhere at a certain time regularly for 3.5 years now. 3.5 years since 7am work starts, in the lab an hour from home. 3.5 years since 1am finishes in the lab an hour from home. (Not often on the same day but you’d be surprised…) I do not miss those days.
Oh I’ve seen my fair share of stupid o’clock since becoming a mother but at least I have been able to face the challenges thrown my way in the comfort of pyjamas and dressing gown.
I’ve become soft throughout the years. Sometimes it is an effort just to get dressed to pick Alexis up from daycare. Sometimes it is an effort to get myself organised to post a letter.
Is it because I’m weak?
No… Well yes possibly.. but not entirely…
It’s because whatever I do doesn’t just affect me, it doesn’t just involve me. It involves getting two kids dressed, carrying or shepherding them, finding where they hid the socks/shoes/my bra/Will’s dummy/the keys…
I wonder, if the tables were reversed and I was able to slip out in the shadow of the night and leave Corey at home with the kids, how I would handle it.
Maybe one day I will join the ranks of the working mums. For now I’m in no hurry. Content to stay in the nest raising my babies, keeping them safe yet trying to teach them all they need to spread their wings and fly.
Alexis has her life all planned out. According to her three-year-old self she is going to be a doctor, a ballerina and a mummy of three. If anyone could manage that in one lifetime, my Lexi could. All I want her to know is that no matter what she does, she’s always wonderful in my eyes. If she chooses to lay it all aside and spend her adult days cuddling young ones on the couch while zher hubby brings home the bacon then that’s fine with me. After all, it’s what I’ve been doing and she’s seen the value of that first hand.
Thank you Corey for allowing me this great privilege.