At least we didn’t have to get up too early today, Choo Choo, and you let us sleep a bit longer. That helped rest away the many kilometres behind us. We hit breakfast, also at the Chicken Chef (there ain’t a lot of option in Whitewood), and then loaded up once more for our push to Winnipeg.
It took a lot longer than I thought to get here.
Choo Choo, I don’t think you yet have a real understanding of time. And certainly, you don’t understand the idea of letting Mommy or Daddy sleep in. Today, I’ll admit, that wasn’t something we would fault you for, since we all had to be up early. Grandpa wanted us on the road by 7:00. That meant getting up, dressed, fed, packed, and loaded.
And as Mommy and I have noticed, neither you nor your sister, Monkey, really understand the idea of “quickly”.
Well, kids, today was a slow start to our cross-prairie adventure. The morning was otherwise ordinary, rising and having breakfast and dressing. But then I climbed into the car and took Asia away to her hotel for the next week. I know this caused a little concern for you, Monkey, because you were worried about her.
Grandpa and Granny arrived after lunch. We loaded up the minivan (which had a fair amount more cargo space than Mommy and I thought there might have been), loaded up you kids, and hit the road for a town called Medicine Hat.
The beginning of our first great family road trip.
I sit here at my kitchen table, rubbing the weariness from my eyes. Not the things you’d normally hear from me, mind you — I haven’t been working too hard as of late (as you know, my big project is done). No, this is from something much better — spending time with my family, and notably you, Monkey.
The last four days have been a lot of fun. Maybe even too much fun. Both of us are pretty pooped. You went to bed and for the first time in a long while, there wasn’t hours of chatter from your room. I think you pretty much passed out. I won’t be too far behind you, I think, but I do wish to describe the fun that we’ve shared.
‘Cuz, frankly, I’m not sure how the heck I survived it all…
Well, Monkey, you gave us perhaps the greatest scare of Mommy’s and my parenthood today. Sure, we’ve seen you really sick with a couple of nasty colds, you’ve cut yourself in a couple of nasty falls, and definitely given us some worries during our return flight to Canada so many months ago now.
But today … today was a new echelon in fear. Today Mommy and I joined the ranks of millions of other parents who have had that moment where they doubt all the confidence and belief they have built up over years of careful watch and control over their child’s life. They see it crash down in a single moment, utterly ruined when they come to the horrific realisation that they don’t know where their child is.
Today, Monkey, you disappeared.
Hey kids, I know it’s been far too long since my last letter. Sadly, it’s that worst excuse of poor excuses: I’ve been working a lot. Back in January, I started with a new company, the Evans Hunt Group. The project has been a tough one (I’ll tell you all about it when it’s ready for public consumption), but it’ll be rewarding for a number of reasons (not the least of which is how much more I know about things in Calgary that you’ll both like).
I’m working with friends, people I’ve known for years — they’re people I also trust implicitly, so I have no reservations about working long hours. The downside, of course, is that I’ve seen less of you two. That’s probably what’s been hardest on me. Especially since Monkey probably feels a little neglected with all the time Mommy needs to spend with Choo Choo. It’s also why, despite the workload, I simply had to take some time to be with you and Mommy, and do something fun.
So went to see dinosaurs in Drumheller.
Maybe I should actually have titled this: “Monkey’s last Easter where she gets all the eggs for herself”, but that just seems a little long. But it’s true, Monkey — next year, even if Choo Choo isn’t walking easily on her own, you’re going to have to share with her, even if just a little. That’s going to be a big note over the coming years — sharing. You’ve had everything to yourself for a long time, and you don’t exactly like giving things up.
(That’s okay, though. It’s not easy to do. Nana’s got a couple of pictures of me doing the “No, it’s MINE!” thing, too.)
So maybe as a last hurrah, or as a first foray into planning bigger and better things, Mommy organised (and mostly handled) the Easter egg hunt this year. Last year, we stayed in Santa Ana as Mommy wasn’t feeling well, and Holy Week in Costa Rica doesn’t involve rabbits hiding chocolate eggs. I think we wanted to make up for that.
Hey Monkey! You’ve been a big sister now for over two weeks. It was a period of time in which Mommy and I were worried about how you’d treat your little sister, Choo Choo. There’s always that fear that you’d hurt her (presumably accidentally — I don’t want to suggest any malevolence on your part), or that you’d resent her coming into our family. I mean, let’s be honest, you’ve had the run of the show for a long time now.
But I guess this is also a sign of your maturity. It seems strange to call a 2.5 year old “mature”, but I can’t think of a better word to really describe you. We’ve seen the “Terrible Twos” from you, but no more than I’d think to be average. And, truthfully, I’ve seen far less since Choo Choo arrived.
You’ve grown up, my daughter.
Well, kiddo, you made it. Despite all the worries about antibodies running amok and the placenta suddenly appearing in the wrong place, you made it into the station, so to speak, even if you were a behind schedule. (I should note that the lateness was not due to any fault of your part. You, like Mommy and I, were merely along for the ride.)
This morning started almost like any other, with the family rising from bed around 7:00. Except, of course, that neither Mommy or I had slept during the night (Mommy less so), Mommy was not allowed to eat any breakfast (as she was going in for surgery), and Grandpa was preparing to spend the day with Monkey.
And, of course, we were all looking forward to meeting you.
It almost seems hard to believe, but we’re down to two weeks until you finally arrive, Choo Choo. Two weeks — well, pretty much right now — I hope to be holding you in my arms, holding you tight and letting you know that the rather unpleasant experience you’d just gone through will only be in your past.
These two weeks will be both interminably long, and over instantly. There’s just so much to do before you come home with us, and I can’t wait until you’re there. You’ll be welcomed immediately by your sister, The Monkey, by Asia the cat, and your Grandpa, who’s eagerly awaiting his next grandchild. Your second cousin — currently only known as “Baby T†— might be here by then.
Only time will tell.