Today, I’m going to Cardiff. I’ll be there until Friday, staying in a very nice hotel, training for my brand new job, which I start a week on Monday. I’m excited to learn all about my new job, to meet new people and to spend some time in a city I love. The only kicker?
SB and Daf are staying at home.
I’ve spent one night away from SB since she was born (and that was because I’d gone on a uni night out and was far too drunk to be trusted at home with a baby, so I stayed in a hotel five minutes away from home instead). Now I’ll be spending five nights away from her, and I think it’s safe to say I’m nervous.
We’ve found coping mechanisms. I’m thanking my lucky stars that Skype is a thing, because it means I’ll be able to see SB and Daf every evening and make sure she still gets her bedtime song. The hotel has a gym, so I’ll be spending about an hour in there each evening, trying to keep myself occupied.
The daytimes will be spent learning, and it will be a lot to take in, so I know my mind will be occupied. I trust Daf implicitly, and know that he’ll be absolutely fine for the week. It doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye and get on that train, though. The evenings will be tough; the nights even tougher. Just the thought of going five days without a snuggle and a sticky slobbery kiss makes me feel almost hollow in the pit of my stomach.
All I can do is remember what my own mum told me. The next hug is always the best one. When I’m missing SB and Daf, all I have to do is think about the next big cuddle; stepping off the train on Friday afternoon and giving them the biggest hug ever.
Knowing that I am doing this to provide for my family will get me through the week.
The next hug will be the best.