The house is so quiet.
I decided to have a cheeky bowl of ice-cream and I didn’t have to share, I don’t have to make dinner tonight if I don’t want to. Meh, maybe I will, maybe I wont, maybe I will have cereal. We might even go to a moving picture show.
‘What?! Noooooo, that is too crazy’ I hear you gasp.
Why am I living such a hedonistic lifestyle?
Usually you could just put it down to me being so zany and unpredictable but this time it is because Crazy has gone on camp.
It is a tad hard to type as confetti rains down and cherubs trumpet in my ear in celebration and as lovely (lovely, lovely) as it is to have a bit of alone grown up time (if you know what I mean, boom chicka wow wow), the house is so quiet. Other than the before mentioned trumpeting of course.
So, so quiet.
This morning she was so nervous she could hardly eat her breakfast. But she told me it was just nervous excitement. However, waiting at school for the buses to depart sitting in a sea of 150 kids I could see the nervousness sitting fairly and squarely on the excitement’s head. She looked lost, unsure and so young.
It was time for me to say good-bye and walk away. The longer you drag out good-byes the more depressing upsetting it gets. But it is so shit walking away knowing someone is feeling so vunerable.
It is like when you would drop your little kids at nursery, crying their hearts out with such passion, wiping snot all over your work trousers as you peel their little monkey fingers off your legs. You walk away feeling horrible. I would often shed a tear on the bus, how could I be such a bad mother? Only to find out they stopped crying before you got out of the gate, I see it now in my job, kids recover quicker than the parents.
Because of this I know she will be fine and having a brilliant, grubby, silly time.
And it is just me, feeling a bit lost in this very quiet house.