ailbhe: (Default)
[personal profile] ailbhe
We got back late last night. Today we resettled into the house, spent the afternoon visiting neighbours, and then in the evening I went shopping; I had to get Rob to come and help me carry, though, because it turns out that I bought 35kg of groceries. I weigh about 55kg with all my clothes on. I made it slightly more than halfway home before realising I was on the way to an injury.

That was a little after I discovered half a dozen unsent SMS messages in my phone, because at some point I ran out of credit and didn't notice.

However, the pantry is restocked, the credit card bill is shrinking steadily, the children are magnificent, my friendships are being cultivated, we're back.


We had a wonderful time away. The food was fabulous, the company almost entirely undemanding and relaxing, and we played four-player Bananagrams the night the children all went to sleep.

Once again I was struck by how strikingly un-forward Linnea is in her dealings with me, how little I know of her inner life. It's all inner. But that's who she is and what she's like, so that's what I take.

For possibly the first time ever I answered a child's "I don't like you," with "I don't like you either." Predictably, I was met with surprise, followed by tolerantly amused disbelief. Actually, I think I've done that with Emer, before now, with much the same results - it's something I can say to make her giggle, in fact. But this more recent interaction felt different, like I was crossing a line.

One night, I sat up and wept wet tears about stuff I don't usually cry about any more. It was probably useful. Certainly it made me less lonely, and still is. The monsters muttering in my head thrive on secrecy.


We were visiting four people, alright, but also the realisation of a dream, which is always nice. When they visited us in April they left behind a building site; we arrived in a fantasy kitchen-living-dining room, all open spaces and multi-height countertops and bright woodwork and picture windows. The kind of kitchen that solves all the problems in the whole world, really. We're back in our little galley now (literally, in Rob's case; he's making up a batch of veg bolognese for the freezer) and although I love my little house very much it does feel smallish.

And Emer has had Yet More Birthday Presents since. It's getting silly!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-08-26 02:58 pm (UTC)
gool_duck: a model of a human heart. text says: 'you are here' (you are here)
From: [personal profile] gool_duck
Welcome back. I missed reading your posts and comments.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-08-26 10:59 am (UTC)
ext_37604: (Default)
From: [identity profile] glitzfrau.livejournal.com
Hah. I know what you mean about visiting the realisation of a dream. The fantasy room is more or less the size of our flat. But coming back to it, I thought I too would feel cramped, but I realised it's really, really not about the size of the space; it's about the love and joy that you have living there, no matter how big or small. God I sound like a tiresome L. M. Montgomery character, but it happens to be true.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-08-26 07:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] velcro-kitten.livejournal.com
Welcome back!

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