So I’ve finished work. Done, dusted and stored for a year. I’m torn in the sense that I love work and the people I worked with when I was grounded. As I normally fly for a living, a stint in the office is a welcome change.
Now I’m faced with just over a year at home, for a third time, with bump #3 and 2 toddlers. Suddenly it seems very real. I’m very torn between wanting to get everything done, seeing everyone before the mayhem of a newborn and just wanting to spend time with the boys and husband. I’ll admit, it’s a privileged dilemma. Not many other countries allow you to have a year off after baby, with a job at the end of it. The sad truth is, that at times work is my escapism. It’s the one time my husband or the grandparents can have the kids, without me feeling guilty. It’s a legit reason to be out, not being self indulgent (and doing a lap of triumph around a shopping mall/coffee shop etc after a hard week).
I can’t wait for baby to be here but I’m acutely aware of this being the last 3 weeks of only having 2 gorgeous babies, a big and little brothers. Soon they will be two big brothers. I’m squeezing in as many cuddles and adventures as I can, with just the two of them. Although something tells me it’ll all be fine, when, in the morning they come in, demand to see bump and give her lots of cuddles and kisses, ask how she slept and if she’s nearly here to play with yet. To sum up, I’d say I’m just really really lucky to have so much love. To top it all off, I saw a double rainbow on my way home.