View from the plane window and me in the cabin. It’s the night before my flight to Dublin to speak at the PMI Ireland Chapter event. I’m organized and enjoying a glass of wine while I wait for my flight.
Ha! Ha!
In reality, I’m cleaning 600 peas from the floor, which have been there for a few hours since Jack’s tea. He doesn’t like spoon training and sees little value in plates. I put the peas in the bin.
I mutter out loud, “OK.” “What’s my next priority?” Eyebrows. Yes, eyebrows.”
I can hear a guffaw coming from the other room, which I can barely hear over the baby’s sobbing and the pacing footsteps. I can understand why, given that there isn’t a meal for adults prepared yet. It’s my first time speaking live in front of an audience (i.e. It’s not a conference like the one on Skype, but it’s my first international trip since the boys were born. Because I can only fit into my skirt in my suit, if I don’t zip it up, I want to look as good as possible to feel confident.
Brows completed, bag packed, clothes hung on back of the door (I also have spare tights in my bag). I just cut the label off the top that I bought this afternoon. I even pulled out the make-up from the back of the cabinet and placed it on the shelf in the bathroom. Now we can do dinner.
I am comfortable in a T-shirt and shorts for my morning breakfast, just in case someone throws Weetabix at my face or is sick of my suit.
“Pretty mummy” arrives at the last moment and we load the boys in the car to take us to the airport.
They are both asleep when I arrive so I don’t wake them up to say goodbye. It’s only an hour flight and I’ll be home tonight. But it feels like I’m leaving, properly. It’s sad.
I love my job, and I love to travel. But it will always be this way. Won’t it?
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