The last two days have been absolutely all kinds of wonderful and amazing. I need at least one if not several good nights sleep before I’m in any state to put words to the sheer amazingly wonderful experience that was Blogtacular, and even then I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do it justice. There are lots of pictures to come though!
But this isn’t about Blogtacular per se, more what it meant. And what is meant was that for the first time in Elma’s life, and only the second time in Kitty’s life, I left them for a night (we may now pause for the collective gasp of horror while half the Internet wonders what kind of a crazy hippie I am to have only left Kit once when she’s three and a half, and the other half wonders how I can live with myself to have so cruelly abandoned my children in the loving care of their adoring father!)
When I first booked my ticket H and I had discussed whether we would bring the whole family to London so that we could be together on Friday night and decided that actually the girls were old enough to manage a night away, that if he took them on a trip to Gran and Grandad they wouldn’t be as concerned by Mummy not coming home, and he argued that I deserved a bit of time to be properly just Carie (the fact that he thinks like that being one of many reasons why (a) I married him and (b) I brought him back cake).
And so on Friday morning I packed the girls’ bits and bobs, helped H load them into the car, and waved them off with a bit of a lump in my throat. And then I took a shower all by myself, got dressed entirely at my own pace, packed a diminutive bag for my overnight kit and caught the train to London.
Being on my own, in London, for pleasure was initially a little surreal and at the same time incredibly decadent. I could spend as long as I liked in Anthropologie (and it was a while!), I pottered in Liberty’s, imagining all of their gorgeous fabrics made up into summer dresses for the girls (along with the requisite time to make them, and weather to wear them) and then chose exactly when, where and what I fancied having as a pre-conference snack.
proving that I’m really bad at iPhone selfies – I was trying to show the giant lightbulbs behind me!
I think I was more worried that I would find it hard being away from my trio than that they would miss me but in the end it was OK. And I was OK with it being OK if that makes any kind of sense.
There were moments when I missed having them there to share something; the sparkly Union Jack sign in Carnaby Street that Elma would have loved, or a macaroon pyramid in the window of Lauduree that was just Kitty’s perfect colour of pink, and I’m glad I was busy long long into the evening, oh and the cuddles from my small nephew early on Saturday morning didn’t hurt either!
But the best, the very best thing about being away,
Is the moment when you’re all back together again.
Space for the Butterflies is…
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