WARNING. Reading this post may spoil the illusion that my family and I are perfect.
I had big plans for the start of last week. Flyfour/Daddy was home as he'd been working over the weekend and as it was unusual to have him home I decided that we needed to do something to mark it. Maybe we could go out for a meal as a family, making use of an early bird special to make the most of our limited funds. Or maybe we could go to one of our favourite lakes for a walk and a picnic and ensure that we were back home early enough to send Top Ender off out on her usual After School activities.
In the end we did nothing on Monday night.
I could handle that we did nothing on the Monday as along with Top Ender going to Brownies, I had a Governors meeting and by the time it was all over and done with and I was back ensconced in my home I couldn't be bothered to go out again.
Tuesday was going to be different though. I had spent all day Monday suggesting various ideas of things we could do to and even though he had dismissed each and every single one of them, I attempted again on the Tuesday. Come pick up time however he still hadn't found a single idea from the things I suggested interesting enough to be something we could do together that evening.
I was mildly annoyed.
Okay, I take that back, I was more than mildly annoyed I was pretty peeved at the whole thing and to put it politely I was thinking some rather detailed "poor me" things in between some slightly more detailed and colourful "blinking husband" things. After one of my barbed comments, about how doing things at home was what I did EVERY SINGLE DAY, Flyfour/Daddy replied that it was the ordinary things like being at home after School that he missed and wanted to do.
All the air went out of me like a deflated balloon. Seriously how stupid was I?
Every single night, I get to talk to the children about School, about their friends, their lessons, funny things the Teacher said, who's fallen out with who. I get to listen to their prayers, listen to them read, help them with their spellings and times tables, listen to them practice the Violin. I get to wipe away the tears and set alarms for the amount of console time. I get to get the compliments on meals that I've cooked, puddings that I've arranged and crafts I've made for them.
When Daddy calls to say good night and good morning to the children, they give him maybe a minute of their time. All I hear is their end of the conversation and it normally goes something like;
No that's on a Wednesday!
Bye. Love you.
There is me feeling jealous of Flyfour's/Daddy's nightly restaurant trips, his walks around the Canals and Shopping Centres, his trips to the Cinema, his "freedom" to do what he wants when he wants and all he wants is the ordinary sights, smells and sounds of home.
So this week I'm making an effort to appreciate the ordinary, because ordinary doesn't mean boring or not special. Ordinary means those moments of time that one day I'd do anything to get back and because they are fleeting I'd better make damn sure I appreciate them now.