He’s ba-ack

Well, my dear readers, it is a happy week indeed here at NABM homequarters. Having generously reluctantly donated Mr G* to Wagga Wagga for three months I have now taken back possession and my three-piece family puzzle is complete once more. Halleluiah.

We coped, none of us suffered any major traumas and we even had some fun along the way. While I wouldn't go so far as to agree with my cheeky friend who observed on the weekend "Wow those three months went by so fast!", I have to admit it was better – and easier – than I'd expected. For me the time certainly didn't fly by the way it might have for, say, other lucky people not living in this house for the duration. But it also wasn't the eternity I envisioned.

When Mr G first departed I blogged that I was struggling to find a single possible benefit from the arrangement. Whilst I can't articulate anything that seems overwhelmingly positive, I do think I've emerged slightly enriched – albeit aged – from the experience. Which counts for something. These are my post-single-mother-phase observations.

After a week of doing something it will become the norm. After two weeks' you will barely remember the past. After three months' you will be so accustomed to the new pattern that the old pattern will feel foreign and take some adjusting. Small details such as the optimal fan speed, the appropriate drawer for tongs and the best television show at any given timeslot, will need to be hard fought renegotiated.

Single parenting is possible. Dual parenting is easier.

Toddlers are labour intensive. They are also heart meltingly lovely and will reward your hard-labour with affection, warmth and love that makes every ounce of expended energy worthwhile. Except when they're bombarding you with their frustration and dissatisfaction at wholly unacceptable circumstances. Like having to sit in their seat in the back of the car instead of at the wheel. Or not being able to climb inside the fridge. Or not being allowed to lick the suncream lid. At those times you will question whether every ounce of expended energy is in fact worthwhile when it appears you are raising a terrorist in the process.

A toddler being sick all over themselves on a jam-packed bus in the middle of peak hour, in the CBD, in the torrential rain, is not as disastrous as it first seems. At least not once you clean the poor thing up and get them back home.

Friends and family are especially priceless during times of solo parentis**.

It is a privilege to love and care for a little person. It is much harder to miss out on the smiles, giggles, cuddles, kisses, new words, lessons learned and milestones reached, than it is to experience all of it on your own. Even with the associated trials, tribulations and tantrums.

Surviving something that at first seems nearly impossible is genuinely rewarding. It is reassuring to learn that your personal boundaries can and will stretch further when required.

Time apart serves as a compelling reminder that there is no substitute for a much-loved spouse and partner in parenting.

My only dilemma now is what on earth I should do with my wife and mother account that is currently bursting with brownie points??? All suggestions welcome.

*If you are new to my blog (welcome!) you might not know who Mr G is. He is my husband and you can read why I call him Mr G here and here.

**I made this term up.