My husband is away for work. In Denmark. FOR A WEEK!
It’s the first time I will be looking after the two kids by myself.
So far so good.
The airport was a lot of fun. We wheeled luggage from the car. We watched planes speed along the runway. We sipped coffees at the cafe. And we said our goodbyes and swapped cuddles at the gate. It was all very exciting. However, I doubt the kids understand that happy dad isn’t going to be here to make them breakfast at 6:30am tomorrow morning.
So here I am. Sitting with my cup of tea. It’s 9pm. Kids are asleep. TV is off. House is quiet. And pardon for pointing out the obvious, but I really miss my husband. Part of me feels like such a wimp. He’s only been gone – what 6 hours? And I’m already wishing he was back sitting on the other side of the couch, our toes touching, him chatting about his adventures in Copenhagen, and me hassling him for the assorted Princess Mary of Denmark souvenirs I asked for.
Yes at this moment I’m finding it weird to be suddenly alone.
It’s so… lonely. Yes. I thought about giving him a call (however, I have no idea where he is right now) but I know he’d say something like,
“If you want some company, you can always wake up Callum…”
On a more serious note, I’m determined not to get bored, weary or lonely… so I’ve booked myself up with a heap of activities. Busy week ahead! Yay for activities.
