I’ve been going through an infinite number of old family photos lately in which my children are much smaller and the force of memory took my breath away. At the time those were snapped, there were no eye-rolls, little to no after-school activities and therefore a bigger chunk of the afternoon left to spend with them. I could still physically lift them and carry them endlessly around on my hip – sometimes both at the same time. With time, even sleepless nights acquired a patina of nostalgia and longing.
But then these photos pop up.
My kind of superheroes!
Cute right? What you don’t see, however, is who’s behind the camera – a mom on her own for the weekend, suddenly unable to stand up.
It was the weekend my husband left for his school reunion and traveled a 1000 km away. I’d planned fun activities and was looking forward to a few days just me and my cubs. But then as soon as Marko left and I put the children to bed, I popped myself on the sofa and could not get up again for love nor money. I crawled to bed, hoping a good night of sleep would solve it all.
It didn’t.
It was also the weekend of the marathon, a huge social event in Luxembourg, when streets fill with runners, spectators, music and food stands. I had promised we’d go to the centre and join in the festivities; however, I was in excruciating pain so that was no longer an option. I spent a big chunk of my weekend lying on the sofa, applying different creams to my lower back and just generally trying to survive. At one point, I decided that a promise is a promise, therefore dressed both children in their newly acquired superhero costumes – with a last-minute change into an ice queen – then took some photos since they both looked ridiculously cute and finally loaded them both into our double stroller and took them out to see the marathon. Instead of the city centre, I opted for our local park, through which the caravan also passes.The whole ten-minute walk I was leaning on the handle of the stroller in a semi-bent position since strengthening my back was impossible. Once there, I could finally sit down while the cubs feasted on the traditional Mëttwurst and cake for dinner while waiting for the fastest competitors to arrive.
The children had great fun dancing to loud music and joining in with the cheering of the competitors with different props offered by the organiser. Looking at their passionate cheering and sweet smiles, you could not had guessed that along side anybody could be having an absolutely awful time.
So there are a few points to be made here.
First, no matter how lovely and perfect-looking pictures and posts seem to be, you cannot possibly know what goes on behind the scenes.
And secondly, no matter how agonising the moment, this too, shall pass. Toddlers *will* grow up, the pain will dissipate and the husband will eventually be back. All that will remain are lovely pictures and sweet-smiling babies.
