After nearly four weeks of playing single mum in the UK, albeit with more than a little help from devoted grandparents, I was definitely ready to be a complete family again and so were the girls. Ever since they got back from their sleepover with the other grandparents (it was so successful they've ambitiously requested, and won't get, a five-day stay next time) they've worked themselves into a fever of pining for Daddy.
Their obsession with their father's arrival has been good for their school holiday work, though. The youngest is slowly getting to grips with the days of the week and how many sleeps left until Daddy arrives and the eldest writes cards and letters to her father, sorrowfully lamenting his absence. The night before his homecoming is like Christmas Eve. The kids are completely out of control and impossible to settle, so great is their excitement at Daddy's imminent arrival. However, at six o'clock the following morning, they're out for the count and I can't honestly say it's joy I feel as the alarm yanks me out of sleep. In fact, my first thoughts when I work out why my alarm is ringing at such an unsociable hour (the same time we get up during term time in Abu Dhabi) are more along the lines of, why couldn't he have offered to take the bus and perhaps he won't mind hanging out at the airport for a couple of hours while I catch up on some sleep.
An hour later and this time it's the ringing of my mobile phone that disturbs me as I am negotiating the car park at Terminal 4. He's not only landed, but he's in Starbucks and wants to know if I'd like a coffee. I give him a yes and inform him I'm only a couple of minutes away, subject to being able to successfully find my way into the terminal building in my still bleary-eyed state. Of course he gets my very precise coffee order completely wrong and of course I complain - more than was strictly necessary. All thoughts of a romantic and blissfully harmonious reunion evaporate. We have, as usual, slipped seamlessly into our roles; the hopeless and the nag.
We creep into the house, hoping to surprise the children who are very much awake and at large. I step back to watch the show. This is the moment I love; seeing our children express so naturally their utter, uninhibited joy, as they greet their father. From time to time, thrown in among the often thankless tedium of day-to-day parenting, are the most priceless and extraordinary moments - and this was one of them.
The eldest spots him first and screams, "Daddy!" as she launches herself into his open arms. Another squeal and the youngest jumps down six stairs, falls in a heap and is scooped up by her daddy's spare arm. Mum and Dad exchange a satisfied, teary-eyed look. It's great to be a family again.
