These last few months living away from your papa while he works in Brisbane have been hard on all of us, 5 days in Brisbane 2 days at home. What was meant to end in January has a dragged on a little longer.
I am worn out (cue the violin) and so when Sunday afternoon rolls around we only manage to make it to the platform seconds before the train pulls in and all the children look like little ragamuffins and I am relieved. Relieved that my love is back with me and that someone else will be there, even just for the next 48 hours. So that when a unison of “I am hungrrrrrry” pipes up I can hide in the bathroom and know someone else has got me covered. We miss him, oh we miss him. Perhaps all the hard things about parenting solo for most of the week are cancelled out by the appreciation that grows in Errol’s place. Appreciation for my Errol who has worked happily without a single complaint for the last few months, missing us, missing so much of Florin’s newness. Who comes home to the house looking like a bomb hit it and stays up till 4 am cleaning messes he didn’t make. Who listens to me moan about how hard it is without him and is always patient, never one reminding me how hard it is on him too. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder and so when we finally see him step off the train my heart is equally happy as the squealing children.
Things aren’t always easy between us, I’d be lying to say that there haven’t been times the idea of smothering one another with a pillow hasn’t crossed minds but oh, god, this guy. Your papa Florin, he’s something else and we are the luckiest for having him.
That’s you little guy, so far at least. After what I would classify as my hardest pregnancy you have been our easiest babe. So quick to smile, so quick to be satisfied, so easily content. Unlike the other two, you roll off my breast long before you fall asleep and lay looking at my face as your blinks come slower and slower. After two children who would barely let me roll over at night without a squawk that their boob had been removed for their suction, watching you fall asleep without nursing seems surreal to me. I watch as your eyes finally shut and your breathing levels just waiting… partly still stunned that a baby of mine is so happily self sufficient, partly still wanting to do more for you.
Sweet easy boy, thank you.
Thank you for being our rainbow. For spreading smiles. For having rolls on your thighs and fuzz on your face. Thank you for having wiggly little legs and a happy little kick. For batting your eyelids and for remembering to nurse often enough that I don’t get mastitis. Thank you for not waking at dawn (very often) and for loving the shower. Thank you for tolerating the often ungentle but-always-well-meaning affections of your big brother and for being a living doll for your sister. About the pram incident: thank you in particular for that. Thank you for letting me and my boob go free after a short time each evening so I can Get Shit Done.
And finally, thanks for being our number three, for helping me keep the sanity and for not making me want to run away or sell one of you on ebay. I appreciate that a lot. You’re kind of special, thank you <3
On Wednesdays we have a family breakfast together with my brother and his family and our parents down at the beach (well… I use ‘Wednesdays’ loosely because so far I’ve only managed to get along twice). After breakfast on this morning we headed down to the beach and I took some photos for my friend Ula who has released a new range of woven wraps. Mornings like this make me feel so happy we made the move to the coast. Florin happily stays close to his papa but his eyes are constantly tracking me, just making sure his boobs haven’t ventured off too far without him.