About 56 hours to go. 56 long arduous hours…

Oh dudes, school holidays are finally biting me on the arse. I believe this is because my father and stepmother actually performed the outrageously charitable act of taking ALL of them from last Sunday to this Wednesday.

Yeah, absence doesn’t make the heart fonder so much as it highlights how fucking hard re-entry is.

The moments before we were getting into the car had me in one of those¬†maternal meldowns – the one where you can’t even blame PMT.

The one where you yell so loud and long and at such a pitch your throat goes scratchy.

The one where once you’re in it your internal auto-pilot is yelling, ‘abort abort ABORT,’ but it’s too late. The eject button has failed and everyone is heading for a big fiery crash of emotional¬†annihilation.

Needless to say, on the way to the drop-off there was a lot of remorse on my part.

Lots of reassurance that yes, I would most definitely be picking them up.

That of course I don’t regret having had children and that my daydreams of a life without children are rare and never as fulfilling as my life with them.

I used my own poor poor behaviour to show just.how.awful.it.is when someone says they hate you, when really they just hate what you’re doing, or saying, or not doing. Or saying.

Cough.

God knows if they heard any of it.

Because I then swallowed some of my own advice and showed them I was sorry and loved them.

Yeah yeah, I bought them McDonald’s.

 

ONWARD!