Kidcation

I am kid-free for two weeks.

There is a bittersweetness about my apartment without F. On the one hand, it is so nice to come home and turn on a grown-up movie and lay on the couch filling out job applications and writing in peace and quiet. I'm tired. In the morning, there is just me. At bedtime, there is just me. It's so easy. There are no toys to pick up, no crumbs scattered across the floor, and I haven't tripped over a rogue shoe yet. But, in the silence and cleanliness of my apartment there is such an absence that it feels unnatural. It's a flashback to when F and I were apart over the winter.

Last night, I left work tired. I'd had a monumental wake up, and I was looking forward to getting home and making a light dinner. Maybe a cup of tea. I sat in my car and turned on the radio. I turned onto the street, and made my way for about 3 minutes before it dawned on me.

I was on my way to F's daycare.

I did a U-turn on the quiet, residential street and pulled over. I could blame it on tiredness, or I can blame it on the way the sun was hitting my eyes but they filled with tears. I miss him... and that's a blessing. I am fortunate to be given the opportunity to miss him. I'm lucky to have parents who are so happy to hang out with their grandchild that they've given me two weeks to be a "free" agent.

And as much as I miss him, I know I'm going to enjoy a quiet week.

Unless of course the cat wakes me up at 5:05 am with a monumental crash again. #notokay

Sing-a-long away

The couple who sings together, stays together…

… or something like that. In the middle of the super-duper crazy week that saw Red and I spend our first stretch of days apart since we started dating and F move from CB to Halifax, get into daycare and Mommy almost go through a window (don’t ask), Red and I cut out some time to talk face-to-screen-face on Skype. After a busy day, it was just nice to talk to him the way I normally would… except that he was 5.5 hours away.

When he took out his guitar and started playing some of our favourite songs, I could feel my heart absolutely melting. And then we both sang. Miles away from eachother, and with the god-awful lag that comes from shitty internet connections we sang a couple of songs we both love. It was really awesome, and possibly totally cheesy but there he was, all adorable smiles and sexy as all get out with this guitar. *sigh*

I know, I know… I’m the luckiest girl ever.

The end of our first week apart is coming to a close, and I’ll see him tomorrow evening. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely over the moon with excitement – which makes me worry that I might be a complete wreck when he’s gone for, you know, weeks or months at a time down the road. I know it’s going to be a reality in our relationship – so is the life of a military partner.

I also know that Skype conversations won't always be a possibility in that reality. Maybe long phone calls won't always be in the cards, either. There will be lots of long weeks without him, and weekends will always be too short. Sometimes there won't be weekends.

How do you maintain that closeness when you're miles apart? How do you explain that situation, the dynamic of our relationship, to a toddler? It will be an adventure, and we have a learning curve ahead of us.

 Got suggestions for how we can make the days apart a little easier - or how to keep our relationship fresh? Share 'em below!

Decided

I am indecisive.

All of the proof to support that statement can be found at 7:00am in my closet, as I stand in my underwear ripping clothes off hangers and walking back and forth between my wardrobe and the mirror. Occassionally, I pick out my clothes the night before - laid out neatly on a chair. Even more rare than that kind of organization is that I feel like wearing that particular outfit come morning. Some mornings are a two or three outfits kind of event, while others are a closet-destroying fiasco. I'm just not very good at making decisions - whether pairing pants and shoes or narrowing down a meal for myself.

I guess that's why I'm so surprised at how easily I came to decide that I would come back to school. I knew it would be a hard year. I knew I would be tired, that I'd be sick of the travel and I knew - without a doubt - that I'd miss F more than I could comprehend.

So far, I'm three for three: I am exhausted, I hate traveling back to Cape Breton and the thought of waking up without F brings a tear to my eye. Being away from him has resulted in a dull pain in my chest that just never goes away. I both look forward to and dread weekends, knowing I'll enjoy my time with him but that leaving (or watching him leave) will break my Mommy heart again.

There have been many moments when I've found myself wondering what the Hell I'd been thinking when I signed up for this year, but as time goes on I'm finding myself feeling more and more at peace with my decision. Even though I'm missing moments I'll never get back, I know I'm setting up the stage for many great memories in our future.

I guess some decisions are easier to make than others.

Little Words

I love words.

Big words, little words, strong words and dirty words.

I just love them all. I love writing them and speaking them, learning them and teaching them - well, some of them. I consider words to be my playground, my medium with which to create. Like many people, I've been both empowered by and crushed beneath a word. As a parent, I've spent the last two and a half years choosing words carefully, waiting anxiously to hear a certain four words that every Mother can't wait to hear: I love you, Mommy.

I remember the first time I heard it. F was in the bathtub, and I had been sitting on the floor of the bathroom while he played. I had told him I loved him, and a moment or two later he looked at me and said it back. I was so excited I started to cry and laugh all at once. I even managed to get it on video with my iPhone. Since that day back in April, F has learned many words, some of which I wish he would unlearn. He has learned how to use his words to convey his feelings, his wants and create play stories for himself and his toys. Since that first "I love you, Mommy", there have been thousands of those perfect moments, from the impromtu hugs to the tearful learning of lessons.

There are two words that I dread hearing now, two words I never thought could possibly hold so much heartache: Good-bye. No amout of "I love you" or hugs can dull the pain my Mommy heart feels when F leaves and we have to say "good-bye". I always try to tell him I'll see him soon, or "Peace Out" to lighten my heavy heart, but it's impossible to lie to yourself in that moment. I stood outside in the cold today watching my parents driving away with F, and I felt tears drip off my cheeks and onto my jacket. I could still hear his cries for Mommy broken by his sobbing as the truck pulled out of the parking spot. In all my life, I've never felt so helpless.

The rest of my evening will be spent inside with the dog. I finally have couches and I can catch up on some reading and TV. We'll go for a walk at bedtime, and I'll climb into a big empty bed and think of him. He'll have forgotten about his sadness when we said goodbye and be excited to see his toys and be back in his home with Grammy and Grampy.  I'll ride out my week away puttering at odd jobs at the apartment, hanging out with my classmates and friends new and old, and I'll anxiously wait for Friday night when I get home and hear "Mommy, I'm happy to see you!".

Those little words will make every heartache and tear worth it.