Childless and Lost

by Eve, in General, Parenting (3 Comments)

I miss my little grublet.

He’s been with his grandmother for a few days, which I believe has been more of a challenge for me than for him. I had burst into tears before Mum had even left our driveway with him, and the rest of the day was spent in mourning. My husband encouraged me to get out of the house, to arm myself with books at the library, or to go out for a coffee. I think the point of the exercise was to do something not baby-related, and to embrace the sudden liberties I had to go where I wanted, when I wanted, not having to consider or even think about a child.

The idea must have fell apart somewhere along the line, as I came home with a to-be-assembled wooden fire engine toybox. I considered it to be a ‘welcome home’ present.

Day One was a write-off, really, as I spent most of the time feeling sad about the absence of a gurgling grublet who liked to talk to his toes. I didn’t feel excitement at untold freedoms I now had. I felt like I was doomed to wander the earth without a heart, until his return. I felt lost. The rest of the day was rather numb. I repeatedly told myself this challenge was good for me. Separation anxiety isn’t any healthier for parents than for children.

Day Two had me feeling my pulse again, but I didn’t do anything productive. It was a blob day, which for me tends to be an unavoidable consequence of having begun with a massive sleep-in. I had a chiropractic adjustment in the morning, and the rest of the day disappeared somewhere down a cosmic black hole, but with the perk of going out with Dear Husband for lunch. There was probably a bit of watching Smallville episodes on DVD, in the day. Oh, yes, and assembling the fire engine toybox.

Day Three is today. I felt bad about yesterday’s productivity factor, so today was more active. Before lunch, I did two loads of laundry, re-assembled the toybox (I thought problems with the lid not closing properly were owing to insufficient efforts yesterday, but it turns out it’s just the hinge’s spring tension, because one cannot expect great things from Kmart), weeded my planter pots, bought some strawberry plants, lettuce plants, spinach plants, capsicum plants, marigolds, red petunias, potting mix, fertiliser, and plant food, and divvied them up among three planter pots and three hanging baskets.

After all my gardening exploits, I ached all over, and felt entirely justified in watching a few more Smallville episodes.

I expect to be picking the grublet up tomorrow. I’ve come to remember and appreciate the freedoms one has when they’re not having to organise their life around somebody else’s naps, nappies, feedings, and early bedtime, but I am looking forward to seeing Timmy again. And his welcome home present is ready and waiting.

Initially, I had been annoyed that his toybox featured the ’emergency number’ of 000. (This must be an Australian fire engine.) But now I consider it insurance. The last thing I want is to be stung for wasting the time of emergency services just because some curious child thought it would be fun to dial 111 for a real fire engine…