What a rather large week we’ve had.
So Monday was my 27th birthday, which to tell you the truth being smack bang in the middle of my eldest daughters and my youngest daughters birthdays I somehow manage to forget about it.
I do try to remember it purely because I feel awkward when asked how old I am I stutter and stammer and blurt out a number which sometimes I’m not totally confident about.
So for at least this week I know for sure that I am 27.
I got very spoilt. OVERLY spoilt. Glen not being able to keep a secret gave me 3 presents early.
(3! I know, I expected one maybe, but 3! I think perhaps that he may have felt a little guilty when I mentioned it would be nice to be ‘surprised’ rather than ‘asked’ and perhaps my birthday present should just maybe come some time around September and not February and that just possibly it should be separate of my christmas present.)
So the weekend before my birthday he gave me a brand spanking new sewing machine and overlocker -which now I think he regrets, there goes any scrap of free time I had- he also bought me all of Adele’s songs to put on his iPod, he wanted to buy me the cd but there is nowhere to buy cds in our town or within an hour radius of our town!
Then on my actual birthday I got a little sleep in (that would have been plenty) the girls and he then made me pancakes for breakfast. Once I’d eaten all I could they piled me up with presents. My beautiful girls and Buddy picked out an assorted array of crafty bits and pieces. Storage containers (Molly’s idea) Canvas, paints, jewellery making bits, thread and beads. They made cards and wrapped everything themselves. Glen then gave me the 2 presents that had been staring down at me from the top of our wardrobe cupboard stirring lots of curious thoughts. I’d been dying to know what they were but avoided mentioning anything as I knew Glen wouldn’t have needed much prompting to give them to me. And I knew he’d regret not having at least one surprise for the actual day seens as he’d gone to so much effort to be organised this year.
Turns out they were a huge tub of maltesers (I have previously kicked an addiction to these) and also two big blocks of my favorite dark chocolate.
So I made an allowance in my new healthier diet for my birthday.
I kinda had to extend that for the week.
And oh baby have I taken advantage.
So I was totally and very rottenly spoilt. I have NEVER unwrapped so much in my life. My girls were so proud of themselves when I opened a present from them commenting on the superb wrapping and sticky tapping job and then they absolutely beamed as I declared that I’d never had such a lovely bright white canvas to paint on before or that the many, many, MANY, bead storage containers were exactly what I had needed.
Glen then washed ALL the dishes!!!
THAT would have been plenty.
But sadly we had to drive to Emerald and drop Glen off at the airport so he could travel home to be with his family. Pop had passed away and his funeral was the day after. He HAD to go, it is a sad thing to go through and he HAD to be with his family, for him and for them.
Glen with his dad, his Pop and very new Molly.
So we waved him off and the kids and I drove home.
We spent the rest of the day playing and mucking around wasting time til we went out to pick up dinner. We had our take away and watched a movie together munching away on maltesers.
Bed time came and it was hmmm….hectic? No; that doesn’t quite cover it.
The girls don’t mess with Glen.
I think by far I am the meaner/tougher/stricter parent, but somehow they listen to him more. (I think I must be all bark. Noisy, annoying and ineffective.) Perhaps because there’s a bit of a my way or the highway type attitude.
Glen says go to your room.
Girls go to their room.
Mum says go to your room.
Girls whine and sook and don’t actually go to their room.
Mum then has to pick them up (Sophie being 26 kgs sometimes is a struggle) take them to their room. Place them on their bed then listen to them whine louder once the door is closed.
I don’t know.
So the girls had a field day with me.
For two days and two nights.
I handled it -with a massive headache- but I used a lot of threats that involved things like messaging dad. Calling dad. And yes at one point I even photographed a trashed room to show dad when he got back. (I would post the picture if I weren’t completely embarrassed by it!)
So basically I told my kids I was going to dob on them
The very same thing I tell them NOT to do.
The honest truth of it all was that I was pretty jealous that Glen was able to pack up and leave without a second thought. I know I couldn’t do the same. He HAD to go and he had an awfully good reason to go but I wished I could see my family too.
I thought we’d be totally fine.
I thought I was in total control.
In the past I’ve thought about what would happen to us should anything happen to Glen and I totally thought I was the more important parent in our family situation. I seriously thought that if anything happened to Glen we would in the long run, be ok. I’m the primary carer for the kids, I’m the cleaner, the cooker the everything in our household. Money isn’t everything and as long as we had a roof over our heads and food in our belly we’d be fine.
On the other hand I thought even though I am in no way shape or form the financial provider for our family that if anything should happen to me that my kids whole world would fall apart. Everything they knew would be shattered.
It still probably would should anything ever happen to me BUT I realised that Glen’s just as important a parent as I am.
I was so up my self to think I was the only ‘important’ parent.
We balance each other out.
He’s the extra set of arms I should have growing from my ribs. The extra set of eyes that someone neglected to place into the back of my head.
He’s the only one I can dob on my own kids to!
He’s the extra hug when someone bites their tongue during dinner, the extra player for piggy in the middle, the extra height when one of the kids wants to touch the roof -goodness knows why- the extra muscle cause mum can’t throw kids high enough, the extra hugs they’d miss out on before bed should he not be here.
Most of all -among many other things- he’s the extra team player I do actually need.
Sometimes I think I can do it all on my own. And as hard as it is for me to admit, sometimes I need to shut up and realise I do sometimes need help.
I’m just lucky he’s willing.
Commando I call him sometimes. His way or the highway.
They need him. And yes, I admit it, I need him too.
They missed him. I missed him.
We’re so very glad he’s back.