Home for Christmas

I haven’t written for such a long time, life got in the way and I lost my mojo.

I’m trying my hardest to get it back.

Did you all have a good Christmas? I hope so.

We had a full house, my two eldest boys arriving from the Netherlands within days of each other.

In the lead up to their arrival I turn the house upside down. I clear cobwebs from ceilings, sort out cupboards, clean windows, wash curtains. It’s the only way to deal with the nervous energy that sits inside of me bubbling under the surface. This cleaning process helps take the anxiety away.

Why work yourself up you might ask.

We haven’t been together in a year. Will everyone get on? Are the boys happy, I’ll only know when I see them. They say they’re happy but are they really?

Overactive mind on overdrive.

Alexander arrives first, he’s on a Turkish Airlines flight flying through Istanbul. Praying for no terrorism, he arrives safely, hallelujah and walks through in one piece smiling from ear to ear. There’s my Bing I say to myself, that wide open smile, a quick once over, he looks good, a little pasty but nothing that some African sun won’t sort out.

Within 24 hours Daniel is due to fly. Anxiety creeping in again. Daniel hasn’t got a good track record. He’s been known to miss a flight some Christmases ago, it wasn’t fun.

I am petering on playing the helicopter mom to a 25 year old who’s lived overseas for the last 4 years.

Are you packed I say.

Not yet, he’s busy doing some last minute (Christmas) stuff.

What stuff I ask. GULP.

You don’t have to worry he says.

WORRY? I don’t have to worry?

I know Daniel, timing is not his forté.

Have you got somebody to take you to the airport Daniel? You’re leaving early.

Yeeeeees.

Must I call to wake you up I say.

As soon as the words come out I realise I’ve gone back to mothering a 16 year old again.

Daniel wakes up on time, he catches his lift and arrives at the airport. All checked in, through passport control, he’s just got to board the plane. I’m still holding my breath, he could miss this, it’s happened to me before. Another story for another time.

Daniel boards and messages us to say he’s on the plane, direct flight to Cape Town. Nothing can go wrong unless the plane falls out the sky, but that would be really unlucky.

Second time in 24 hours we’re back at the airport, this time it’s Daniel’s turn. We hold our breath, this adult child of ours is a chameleon, who knows how he’ll walk out, his hair might be shaved, it might be long, it could be dyed it could be au naturel, we might have eyebrows, we might not, another piercing, maybe yes maybe no, we take it as it comes.

There he is, Daniel walks through with items of luggage and coats dripping off him. We have a leather jacket, a fluffy feathery cardigan thing, a bling handbag, a wheelie weighing a tonne, another bag and a big fat suitcase.

We’re only visiting for 2 weeks but we pack for every eventuality.

Helloooooooo he says, greeting us loud enough for the whole airport to hear.

This time Daniel is not towering over us in platform heels. I look down, ahhh just your average trainer shoe, something he wouldn’t have been seen dead in years ago. The sporty look must be on trend. I’ve not seen Daniel in tracksuit pants since school days, this is a first.

We get home and just like that we are a whole family again.

Daniel, Alexander and our youngest Oli, back from University.

Three grown up boys with three very different personalities.

All vying for attention, they are loud and vocal and each one talks over the other.

Morris is being picked up, cuddled, rocked, put down, chased.

The house suddenly feels small. I start to relax, all my chickens are home.

Happy days.