For as long as I can remember Hubby has been working 7 days a week.
'The poor man' I hear you thinking, 'He must be exhausted' Yes, yes, I'm sure he is. He works hard to provide for us and we are lucky that he has a good job and therefore I can stay at home and simply 'Be Mum'.
But.....his working so much does not lead to a harmonious life. It leads to a fair amount of stress, for both of us. It also leads to the inevitable. Which is that he is missing out on the kids growing up.
Because they are growing up. Really fast, scarily fast. And I'm a little sad, because once it's gone we can't get it back again.
Mr 11 is leaving childhood. He is so responsible and so mature that sometimes I feel like shaking him and crying 'Just be a kid again!' He helps me to take care of his younger siblings, he cleans up around the house. It is wonderful, but it is also sad. Sad because his young and carefree days are nearly over. He no longer plays whimsical games of make-believe, he no longer sees shapes in the clouds and fairies in rainbows. The adult world is beckoning...and he is beginning to follow.
Miss 8 is losing her selfish streak. She is beginning to see that there are other people in the world besides her. She is starting to care. Yesterday, when she saw that her brother ran dead last in his athletics carnival running race she promptly burst into tears. On our return home she dug out her second place ribbon from last year and gave it to him. It was a beautiful moment. She still has a vivid and exciting imagination, yet she now knows that the world isn't rose-tinted as she previously thought....at night she worries about everyone and everything, she still falls asleep in my arms.
Mr 5 is on overload. He is cramming so much into that little brain of his at school that by the time he gets home he is ready to explode. Running around outside helps him to let off steam, yet a fair amount of that steam gets directed at his sisters and I. His teacher tells me that he puts in 110% with everything he does. So, by the time school is over for the day I pick up the shattered and exhausted shell that is my boy. His temper flares, he cries easily, he falls asleep in the car, he refuses to do his homework, eat his dinner or have a bath. Everything is a struggle. Sometimes, I'm almost relieved when he is asleep for the night. And yet, he can be the kindest, sweetest little boy I know...and his cuddles are truly something wonderful.
Miss 2 is a delight. That difficult and demanding stage of toddler hood seems to be finished and she is starting to become a 'real' little girl. She plays dollies endlessly, chatting away happily in her little made up language to all her charges. She dances to her own beat, kicking her legs in the air, twirling like a little fairy ballerina. She says new words everyday. Today we were playing 'doctors' and she attempted the word 'stethiscope'...with hilarious results. She is the fussiest eater going. Sometimes she seems to exist on only air and yogurt. I worry endlessly, she is two and a half and yet weighs the same as a one year old. She is teeny-tiny, with her little pixie face. Her babyishness is melting away, despite my attempts to prolong it, despite my desperation to hold onto it, my last baby is changing before my very eyes.
And so, with all of this in mind, I finally told my beloved Hubby about my fears. My fear of them growing up without him. And so, he has promised to spend a day with us.... tomorrow, Friday, is our day....and I'm going to make sure we embrace it with both hands, for all of us.