It’s good to know when I go away, my fam­ily miss me for very dif­fer­ent rea­sons

Wicklow People (Arklow) - - NEWS -

I go away for six days and the world as they know it falls apart! Head­ing off on a work trip to Amer­ica last week I felt mis­er­able say­ing good­bye to The Youngest as she stood wav­ing at me and bawl­ing her eyes out.

I have to ad­mit I also felt a lit­tle bit smug. I also felt a bit smug when I got a What­sapp mes­sage from the Teenager say­ing how much he missed me and how he couldn’t wait for me to come home!

Awwwwww! Ly­ing in my ho­tel room, all alone on the other side of the world I felt loved. And needed. And all warm and fuzzy inside.

I re­mem­ber think­ing ‘maybe it’s true what they say – ab­sence makes the heart grow fonder. They’re go­ing to ap­pre­ci­ate me so much more when I come home.’

That feel­ing of be­ing loved and cher­ished didn’t last long. As soon as I walked in the door, jet­lagged out of my head, the 15-year-old hugged me and said, ‘will you go to the su­per­mar­ket and buy bis­cuits? Like tons of bis­cuits? Dad wouldn’t buy any.’

At least I know my own worth now. A few measly pack­ets of choco­late caramel di­ges­tives. Any­one could ful­fil my role. In fact if you threw in a six pack of Tayto, you’d be wel­comed with open arms and con­vinc­ingly warm hugs. They’d prob­a­bly even make their beds for you.

Sadly I am quite needy. It’s one of my big­gest flaws. No one quite knows how I be­came this way, be­cause I come from a lov­ing fam­ily (so they tell me when they’re drunk) but I do need to feel like ev­ery­one loves me.

So I couldn’t let it go. ‘Did you miss me?’ I asked pa­thet­i­cally. Both chil­dren rushed to re­spond, ‘yeah, yeah course we did.’

Then...and I kid you not... ‘Mam will you make me a cup of tea? I haven’t had a de­cent cup of tea since you went.’

And what did I bloody well do? Yes! You’ve guessed it! I put the feckin’ ket­tle on and made the lit­tle fecker a cup of feckin’ tea. Rod for my own back much?

Mean­while the 11-year-old was too en­grossed in her Sephora haul to care about any­thing other than lip glosses and face masks. ‘Were you very lonely with­out me?’ I whee­dled, squeez­ing her tight. She didn’t even look up. Just shrugged her shoul­ders and said, ‘not re­ally although dad’s toast isn’t as nice as yours.’

Feel­ing sorry for me, Him­self tried to save the day. ‘I missed you. My feet were freez­ing in the bed. I had to wear socks one night they were so cold.’

I’m so glad I have my uses.


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