We just got back from ten days away from the kids. I’m still processing it all, and in a bit of a jet lagged fog, but the kids survived their ten days with their grandparents – and even came home with all of their laundry cleaned (seriously, can we talk about how I lucked out in the inlaws department?).
At the airport, I was near frantic about how Violet, who was bravely sniffling back a tear on the day we left, was going to survive, because she’s my snuggly one, the one I thought was going to be so so sad about us leaving her. We’ve never left her for more than a quick weekend trip that’s really barely two nights – and here we were, taking off half way across the world for ten days.
We Facetime called them frequently, checking in before they went to school in the morning and after school, in the wee hours of the night. By the third day, they barely wanted to talk to us and were busy doing other things. It was fantastic.
In my mind as I had imagined a dramatic pick up from the Airport where we would run into each other’s arms, but they didn’t come to pick us up. Instead, we saw them as we drove back to Jamie’s parents, so they could see Stella quickly because they’re leaving for a vacation (well timed, huh?) tomorrow. They didn’t come to the airport, and run into our arms, and they didn’t even come running to greet us as we walked in the door. Violet was off playing Roblox, and Olivia was busy talking about something she was doing at school.
Eventually we got all the snuggles, but I was reassured.
The kids were okay.
The kids are okay.
And us? We’re refreshed, inspired, and a tiny bit jetlagged.