Today you were up before the sun. You kissed our five year little boy who was snuggled in bed beside you, kissed me goodbye, though I could barely open my eyes and headed outside into a howling gale to cycle the forty minute journey to a job that you don’t love.
You called me on your lunch-break.
You asked after the children and checked on how I was doing. You offered to buy something I needed from the supermarket so that I didn’t have to get the children there for one thing. You made time in that precious one hour break from your desk to talk to our son about what he had been doing during the morning.
You went back to the desk and you worked hard. I know this because you never do things by halves.
You emerged back into the wind and rain and made the forty minute cycle back home again.
You greeted us with a smile and hugs all round. You cuddled our daughter and made her laugh. You showered and talked to our son, understanding that he desperately needed to be near you after a day apart. You put away the laundry while I took our baby for her nap. You sat on the floor and played Lego with our son for an hour and then, you got our daughter’s TPN (intravenous feeding drip) prepared, making sure to keep it all completely sterile. You hooked her up to it and took her to change her nappy while I went to cook dinner.
You danced with her to jazz on the radio. You looked at our son’s drawings. You drew up a syringe of puree to tube feed our baby. You asked me about my day.
When bed time came, tonight it was my turn to put the children to bed. You didn’t stop for the day though. You cleared up the kitchen. You kissed the children goodnight. You fed the cat and later, when the children were finally asleep, you quietly snuck into the bedroom bearing a hot cup of tea and a snack for me.
You came back an hour later to take our son for a dream wee.
You worked tirelessly to support our family, both physically and emotionally. You were the glue that held us together and tomorrow you will get up and do it all again.
The days with young children pass in a blur. They are full and loud. They can be emotional, they can be a joy or a struggle. Some days you come home to find me exhausted and stressed. Other days we are happy but the house is a mess. Sometimes it feels easy, other days we take each minute as it comes. But through it all, you never stop. We notice. We see what you do. We know how dedicated you are to us, and we love you for it.
Thank you for being who you are.