I’m feeling flat today after dropping my 2 littlest ones off at school and knowing they’ll be at their dad’s until next Wednesday. 5 whole days until I get my boys back. Such is the plight of the newly divorced parent. Sigh. On the one hand, oh the time and space devoid of breaking up silly tussles and wearisomely responding to interminable “I’m hungry!” laments. On the other hand, the sorrowfully immaculate bedrooms, the eerily orderly nerf guns, the silence heavy without giggles, banal banter or even the reassuringly familiar sibling raging. Damn I miss them.
Date Night with Twins
So, how to enjoy the oppressively thick solitude? Well, let’s get a grip here Bianca, for starters there are 3 more boisterous kids keeping this house bustling and messy, these ones are just bigger, equally as loved, significantly little less cuddly. Then there’s work – I’ve got masses to focus on to keep my brain stimulated; the day job, the side hustles and oh I’ve started studying for a qualification in Jungian psychology (that primordial drive to keep on learning is irrationally insatiable). And let’s not forget the rafts of laundry and never-dissipating domestic drudgery to plough through. Yup, the void will quickly fill. The time will flow and in the blink of an eye Wednesday will be here seeing me rampantly juggling school pick-ups beteeen work meetings plus food shops and broken drains and homework shenanigans and present shopping and and and and…
Come to think of it, what the hell am I sad about? Isn’t 11am on a lockdown Friday actually gin o’clock?
(Picture represents most recent Dinner Date Night With Twins where the carefully 11-year-old-chosen menu comprised breadsticks, pepperamis, olives and apple juice #michelinstar)
