I have had a wonderful weekend. I have busted my gut to get a campaign ready for launch today, as I promised BM I would do. I have baked the most delicious chocolate cake, I have burnt a batch of cupcakes, and iced these for DC’s 7th birthday party, which was yesterday. I have filled party bags, blown up 30 balloons and hung decorations. All for my house to be overrun by a herd of roudy 7 year olds, bolstered on by copious amounts of sugar and excitement. More sugar than excitement. I think.
The party was a Madhatter’s Tea Party, and the kids loved it. Thanks to MS, I got through it without having a breakdown and, other than being a little tired last night, I was good. At 12am this morning, I closed my laptop, confident that I would be good to launch my campaigns when BM had signed them off this morning, and life would be grand. HF had other plans for me though. She played a very interesting game last night, called Musical Beds. She started off in her own bed, then moved to mine. I woke up with a start at around 2am this morning to discover an obvious lack of baby in my bed. Upon further investigation, I found her in DC’s bed. I put her back in her own bed and I went back to my bed. It wasn’t long before she was back with me, then off again. Then DC was in my bed because HF was in her bed. Then we were all in my bed. Then DC went back to her bed. Only then was I able to get HF into a very light and disturbed slumber. She was restless and kept screaming out in her sleep and then mumbling my name and reaching out to feel me. And then, before I even had a chance to react, she rolled right out of the bed, and hit her head on the corner of the bedside table. I managed to console her and when I left for work this morning, feeling sleep deprived and, therefore, incredibly emotional, she was still sleeping. I phoned home at 10am, and she was still sleeping. I asked the nanny if she was in fact still breathing. The nanny laughed at me. I told her to wake HF and let me know if I needed to rush home.
A little while later I called again, and HF had eaten, and responded appropriately to all the nanny’s questions. I can rest a little easier now. I had visions of my little angel having concussion, or being in a coma, or some other major calamity. It was at this point, with the deep sigh of relief that came out of my body, that I realised that I never want to outlive my kids.
I know someone whose brother died last week as a result of injuries sustained from a car accident. I attended the funeral last week Friday, and the pain his mother was feeling was tangible for me. I was really caught up in her emotion. And this morning brought that home for me. I didn’t realise that I was holding my breathe for HF to wake up and be ok until she woke up and was ok.
My heart truly walks around in two parts outside my body. Half of it lives in DC, and the other half in HF. without them I am afraid that I would not have enough life force left in me to put one foot in front of the other and carry on. They are my reason for being. The only reason I get up in the mornings and come to work to do a job I don’t particularly enjoy. A job that means I miss out on 10 precious hours with them every day, and can’t be there for them should they need me. A job where BM can’t even make sure that he is here to sign off the campaigns I worked hard on all weekend (sacrificing time with my kids) so that I can get them live, and get the hard-earned pat on the back I deserve.
Why do I do this? Why don’t I take my passion for writing and social responsibility and do something meaningful with my life? Something that gives me time to savour and enjoy the precious little time I have with my girls…
On that note, it’s back to the grindstone for me. And BM is still not in.
C
x
