A little while back, after a night away from my kids, my free time was coming to an end and I’m not going to lie, I was not exactly looking forward to coming home. I commented to my friend, and most likely audibly sighed, as I’m apt to do, “I guess it’s back to reality”. My friend, without missing a beat, pointed out to me that in fact, my time away was also a part of my reality. A new part that I was thoroughly enjoying, and that I could continue to enjoy, even though the time to transition back into parenting mode was fast approaching.
I have been lucky enough to spend many more evenings away, including three nights over the long weekend just gone at Marcoola with eight other school mums. (I even got to visit Marty which was a nice bonus 🙂 ) There was an amazing mix of climbing mountains, beach walks, swimming, eating amazing food, drinking all the wine, watching movie after movie, doing a puzzle (I got bored really quickly with that one) and lots of chats and belly laughs.
What an absolute treat to be able to get away with these ladies.
We are quick to dread going back to what we might consider the monotony of everyday life, especially after we experience such soaring highs when we get to do something out of the norm, but that simple single comment “this is your reality too” made me pause and consider my position.
I have had a pretty massive curve ball thrown may way that rocked me to my core and turned everything I thought I knew into chaos and grief, but I still consider myself a very blessed and fortunate person. Not because of what happened to me, but because of what happens for me, every single day. I am surrounded by friends and family on whom I can rely; I’m supported by people who have my back; I am continually grateful that I have people in my life who turn up for my kids and I again and again and again and ask nothing in return.
I am loved. This is my reality, so “going back to reality” will no longer hold the negative connotation it once did. Now I get to go back to my kids who, yes, have missed me and will, without a doubt be complaining to me and fighting with each other not long after I step back into my house, but they are mine and they are loved and they love me back.
Do you know what my reality looks like? It looks and sounds like this:
I was putting Darby to bed tonight, and he was asking his usual random questions, when he said “Hey Mama, do you know who my favourite superhero is?” We had already had this conversation today, so I knew the answer.
Darby: “no, it’s you”
Cue tears and a moment of pause and reflection from me. My darling boy who takes me to the edge of my parenting patience and abilities more often than I care to admit, can melt my heart with his gentleness as well. My kids are my reality; my friends are my reality; having love in my life is my reality; getting to go away regularly to recharge and regroup is my reality, and that is a life I’m very happy to be living.