Yesterday was a lovely day, and just what the doctor ordered to be honest. All week it’s been a rush, I get up, whizz about the house getting ready for the day, head to work, get my head down over my desk, come home and then faff about of an evening. Work has been hectic, sometimes I look back at the things I’ve crossed off and wonder how I got that much done in a day, but then I look at what I’ve got left to do and think ‘Eeek!’
I went to bed early on Friday, I’ve not had the best week of sleeping, but still was restless, waking up between 4am-5am on Saturday morning. I tried to settle again, but never really got further than a doze until my alarm went off. I ran a bath, had my breakfast and headed off to Moorabbin to meet up with my volunteer group.
Last weeks session was hectic, it was one of those days where we seemed to be late for everything, this week was completely different. We only had three children for starters with four of us, one girl wasn’t very well so couldn’t make it. We were going to the RAAF Museum in Point Cook, we drove down on a gorgeous winter day, the sun came out as we drove through the city. We had lunch in a Portuguese chicken restaurant, sitting round the table chatting as a group, except for A who is non-verbal, but still tells you what she wants with clarity, and is one of the happiest teens I’ve met.
The museum was lovely, the staff considerate to our groups needs, with 3 people in chairs we took up a lot of room as well as squeaking our way round the rubber floors. There was only one boy out the seven of us, he was quite happy looking at the planes and exhibits while we took it in turns to read out the information on the cards. We all decided that we loved the older planes, one in particular that looked like it could have been drawn by Leonardo. The Maurice Farman Shorthorn which took at our breath away at its’ fragility.
We wandered around enjoying ourselves, quite glad there wasn’t a boy around to get all, well ‘boyish’ over the planes and spout facts and figures to us. Walking to the back of the hangers we waited in vain for a plane to either take off or land. J in his chair was happy going round and round a man-hole cover, going over the bumps, while S in her chair cranked her speed right up and charged about, her hair streaming out behind her. As we loaded the chairs into the minibuses, a plane landed, and another one took off. We then drove through the wetlands park just down the road, saw lots of wild fowl and rabbits, then headed back to the drop off point. At no time did I feel rushed, or under pressure, it was a fabulous day. I floated home.
I got out the car, Hubs met me with a grin and I burst into tears. Surprised at this outburst, I blubbered all over him how much I loved him, and that I’d had such a good day. I wanted to remind him while our lives are about to change irrevocably, the last six years we’ve spent together have been wonderful. I’m so lucky with my boy, our relationship is so good, and such fun. I know we’re in for an epic change in a few weeks, but I’m so grateful for the love, care and understanding he’s given me unconditionally. As we wait out the last couple of weeks before our son arrives, we’re both valuing the time we spend together as a couple.