Being home

Last week my husband flew to beautiful BC to find us a place to rent when we move there this fall. Wonderful man that he is, he found us a lovely home, a two bedroom plus den top floor suite of a gorgeous house overlooking the inlet. The location is ideal – in additional to the incredible ocean view, we are right next to a large park with a playground, splash pad, pool, library, and running miniature steam train that I’m sure will be well ridden by our train-loving son.

It is a relief to be able to stop searching rental ads, looking for that one “perfect home” that isn’t laughably out of our price range. This one was, admittingly, at the very top of our allowed budget, but for the length of time we hope to stay there, it should be worth it.

I’ve submitted my resignation at work. 25 (work)days and counting until my time there ends, and I can return to what I love most, being home with my son. While it wasn’t ideal, it hasn’t been an awful situation either. Perhaps it was merely knowing that it was temporary that made it tolerable. Our son was old enough that he handled it well – I really could not have done it with a nursing baby or a non-verbal baby/toddler. That he was already two, was able to be prepared ahead of time, already nursed minimally, and was staying home with his dad were the things that smoothed the transition for us. In many ways, it has even been good for us, all of us. And still, I could not have done it for longer than I have.

Which was why I so enjoyed this past week, just the two of us while the man of the house was off house-hunting. I took a couple of days off work and my sister (“Auntie KYS-tal!!”) watched him the other three days. It was a wonderfully full week, doing all those things I’d missed doing with him lately, but mostly just being together, the thing I missed most of all. We weeded the garden, talked about what plants needed to grow, went for long walks, ate wild strawberries, painted dinosaurs, coloured, baked, and made meals together. We ignored the usual rule about going to sleep in our own beds and snuggled down together in the big bed, so much emptier without his daddy there. We went out together for lunch, did some shopping together, bought groceries. We talked about the baby, watched the baby grow (over and over and over again), and felt the baby kick our hands (a very exciting moment for the little guy). We went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel, then sat on the grass and ate sticky candy apples. We snuggled under the blankets and read books, sometimes together, sometimes on our own.

So normal, and yet so wonderful. By our third whole day together, I’d forgotten I even had a job to return to the next day.

25 more days, and then I can enjoy those ordinary moments all day again – this time with a renewed appreciation for each one of them. Delighting in his learning, laughing at his silliness, gently guiding and teaching him in those small moments that arise every day, seeing our Father’s world with renewed wonder through his eyes, being the one to dry his tears and kiss his owies, encouraging him as he grows – just being with him and, soon enough, his little brother or sister, through the “normalness” of life, sometimes good, sometimes bad, always together.