This morning.
Stefan: Mommy, the peaches are mad at you.
Me: Who?!?!
Stefan: The peaches. They want to be washed.
Me: Huh?
Stefan: The peaches want to be in my mouth.
Me: They’re not ripe yet. Wait until they get soft.
Stefan: That’s okay. I can bite it.
His love affair with the peach started when he was 9 months old (in the picture).
Saturday was the last swimming class of Stefan, and today the last of soccer. These past days have been marked “the last of” everything in bits and pieces. Stefan has been visiting the SK class this week before he officially starts next week. I am also at the last days of my year-long maternity leave as I am returning to work, also next week. Struan has already started daycare to ease us back to the routine. The first days dropping him off have been excruciating for me. I had to leave immediately after a quick goodbye to a crying wawa little Struan. It tore me to pieces.
It's been quite a change coming back home. I’ve got time on my hands again. I had the luxury to whip up something better for lunch than what normally were boring, if not leftover, dishes. Also, I could not just breeze each room and every floor of the house, but sit and tackle every nook and cranny. I have so far organized every bedroom, cleaned the bathrooms, fixed broken toys, washed the curtains and blinds, changed the bedsheets (finally!), gave myself a pedi, etc. That’s a lot in just a few days. Although at some point, I would think I have forgotten to clip the monitor on my clothing to hear if Struan is awake or he’s crying, then I come to my senses… he isn’t home.
Just when you wish days would go by fast, these days went slow. It almost killed me.
Sherwin worked from home today. He asked, “are we having lunch out to celebrate our freedom?“
“I’m still mourning.”
Separation anxiety. Who has it?
