Every day I experience a moment where I think about my children and my heart fills with pride, love, both, everything about them that is glorious and wonderful, and it holds that feeling… this warmth spreading from my chest, filling me from head to toe and then… that heart begins to ache a bit.
Of course I think about my children constantly but there’s one moment, okay, maybe two or three moments in each day where that up there *Points up there* happens.
Let me explain a bit more.
This post doesn’t have a point. It’s just me saying how I feel, inadequately. Using words I have no skill with to balls up an attempted explanation of how I feel from time to time. But it is me, and that’s what I do when I post a bloggle. I try to put things in here, out there because it helps me make sense of what’s going on in here. *Points in here* So here goes.
About midday most days I think ‘what shall we have for…’
There is no we today.
I’m still in SAHD mode in my head sometimes, although my children are at preschool each day and I no longer live with them. Crazy huh? But it’s a hard habit to break, and this might make me sound a bit mental but I’ll go with it. You see, I miss that. I don’t miss aspects of the life that went with it, outside of the children, but I do miss that part of my life, and them. Still. And there’s a small part of me that doesn’t want to let that go. Because it was such an important time. I feel if I do stop thinking like this then I’ll forget it. I won’t forget the memories at all, never, but I’ll forget the feeling.
I miss my children every day. This is obvious to anyone who knows even a little bit about me. I Skype them regularly and speak to them on the phone when we can’t do that. I have photos of T&K and I look through those when I feel like this. See their smiles. See their faces.
And hear in my head a thousand calls of ‘daddy daddy daddy’
Will you read me a story?
Will you play trains with me?
Will you pick me up daddy and pretend I’m a parcel you’re delivering to the post office?
It a bit us that one, but the children love it. At no point have I ever tried to put them through the letterbox, but as I carry them to it their uncontrollable giggles are the richest sound in the world.
In my head, sun is streaming in through the hallway window, reflecting off the flooring, and I’m carrying my children to the door shouting ‘I’ve got a parcel for you!’
In my head I’m lying on the floor under a blanket while T&K pretend to be doctors to make me feel better. Quite a lot of this involves sticking stuff in my ears. It always ends with a cuddle and a ‘Get Well Soon Daddy’.
In my head I’m reading them a story, K sitting on my right knee and T on my left. Then we race each other up the stairs and read more stories sitting on the floor of my son’s room. We say goodnight, they go to their beds, and I walk downstairs hearing an odd thump and bump as T and K get settled and then.. silence . Soon they’re blissfully asleep but for the rest of the night their laughter and chatter runs through my head and makes me smile.
And yes. Each night I’m with them, just before I go to bed, I sneak in quietly and give them both a kiss. They’ll never know I do this, but I do.
I’m looking through photos now. And right now I’m with them. I’m not with them but… well. We’re together I guess. In some way. I’m thinking of them and I can see them.
But soon, in just over a week, I will be able to see them as I’ll be with them. I’ll be looking after them for an extended period of time as my ex-wife is going overseas and it’ll just be T, K and me. Back in the SAHD-dle again and I can’t wait.
I have adventures planned. Days of play and fun, indoor picnics if it rains, trips out and about, trains, silliness, stories and chat, and boy oh boy do my children love to chat. We’ll do things and learn stuff without even knowing we’re doing it. We’ll play and hug and run around and dance and sing and…
…time will go so quickly.
But every second of it will be cherished. For them it might just be some time with Daddy doing silly things, a change from doing silly things with Mummy. But for me it will mean so so much.
The ache I get in my heart when it fills isn’t a sad thing. It’s a missing thing and an ‘it happens’ thing. A normal thing. I kinda like it in a way, if that makes any sense, because…
…if I didn’t feel like that, then I’d be sad.
Thanks for reading.