My son is 2.5 years. 30 months. 917 days.

In the last 2.5 years, 30 months, 917 days, I haven’t been away from him for more than a few hours. Only once. When his sister was born.

I’d never intended to become that kind of mum. That kind of mum who is always around. We didn’t sit down one evening to talk it all through. We didn’t decide it. It just happened somehow.

So, here I am.
I’m here.
Every day. Every night.
I am here.

I am the comfy pyjamas you put on at the end of the day.
The one favourite food you always have in the fridge.
I’m the old pair of sneakers you wear every day.
The one song you play when everything seems to go wrong.

I’m all of that to you.
I am here.
Every day. Every night.

When my son was born I learned that I could extend my love. That I could love my husband. That I could love my son. My daughter. My kids. I could love them all. I learned that my love was extendable. But that my time was not.

I wish it was. I wish my day would become longer each time a new person entered my heart. I wish I could extend the hours, could extend my day.

But I can’t.

And so we seem to lose each other. My husband and me. A little bit more each day. We try so hard to be the best parents that we often forget about us. Our kids are like magnets. And we are like steel. I love them to bits. I love my role as a mum. But there are days when I feel I just need to be me. The one below all these layers. The one below all these roles, all these “don’t do this, rather do that”s. The one who married this man. Nearly four years ago.

And so we went on a holiday. And I went without my son. I peeled off the layers. And I plunged in the pool.

Love is about holding tight and letting go sometimes.
About becoming each other without losing yourself.
It’s about knowing you are loved even when you’re alone for a while.

And my son understood.
Better than adults would do.

He understood the hug I gave him when we came back through the door.
He understood the smile, the happiness in my eyes.
He understand I was here now. Was back again. Was here 100%.

He understood.
Maybe better than adults would do.

My son is 2.5 years. 30 months. 917 days.

In the next 2.5 years, 30 months, 917 days, I will be away sometimes. I will peel off the layers. I will plunge in the pool.

But I will always come back.
I will never be far.

Love is about holding tight.
And about letting go sometimes.

(NB: In case you wonder, our toddler was in very good hands while we were in Abu Dhabi for three days)

Some pics from our stay at Park Hyatt Saadiyat Island – Abu Dhabi

A little abra tour with Capt. Tony’s Abu Dhabi