No More Camera Timers

We are just home from a short, but oh, so sweet holiday at the North Coast. It’s where I spent my Summers as a child at my parents’ caravan, albeit while totally taking it for granted. But it’s also where I returned as an adult to learn that I’m an adult who needs ALL the sea air for coping with, well, being an adult. 

It’s where Paddy and I had our first ‘is this a date?’ date on a promenade bench, and it’s where we got engaged on a beach in the midst of an amber weather warning. It’s where we honeymooned after our original honeymoon was cancelled. And as my sleepy eyes caught a glance of the warm sun rising over the sand dunes on that same beach, on our first morning as a married couple, I was instantly ashamed that the North Coast was ever a second choice.

The world is just starting to open up again post-lockdown and while so much is still closed, if the North Coast has opened up, then our whole world has opened up. I’m returning to work part time tomorrow after being furloughed and these few days away were an unexpected gift of grace.

Practically, I’ve never been more ready for a Monday. I’ve made gallons of soup for lunch, I’ve washed my hair, waxed my face (just some real talk for the fellow PCOS sufferers out there), and I’ve given Paddy the detailed low down on Reuben’s snack times; this boy has had two parents for a grand total of a month now and he has already mastered the ol’ ‘mum allows me to have this’ tactic. And I’ve actually set my alarm which, recently, has only been used for taking brownies out of the oven.

 This evening Reuben stalled bedtime by asking if he could brush my hair. I know, right? You can tell he was raised by a woman for 6 years.

I knew what was coming. He talked about Lego and farts and then he talked about tomorrow morning when I’ll leave and he… won’t. Cue my extremely sore heart. I mean, If you haven’t suffered the effects of the virus itself then you’ve suffered the effects of Lockdown. And we’ve had plenty of our own Lockdown Lows. Like that period where Reubs and I didn’t see another soul except the people delivering our groceries. Or the many squabbles of HOME SCHOOL. Or when the WiFi broke and I cried to Shell Energy. Or the rollercoaster of emotions that come with cancelling a wedding. Or the fact I was furloughed because I. Just. Couldn’t. Cope.  

But God’s grace abounded as it always does and it’s been such a gift to be at home with Reubs. We’ve never had this much time together. Even during ‘maternity leave’ I was repeating my A levels. We didn’t know it, but it was exactly what we needed before the transition into being a family of three. As I look through photos of our trip last week and choose which ones have made the cut for the monthly Freeprints order, there’s one photo that encapsulates all that God has done.

It captures Reuben standing in front of me, a strategic move by me to cover my swimsuit. He is enveloped in my arms in our trademark tight-squeeze. His hands are resting on my hands and our thoroughly frozen booties are wishing that we had taken Paddy’s advice to bring the wetsuits. Our shoulders are hunched in defence against the North West winds and my long, lockdown, witch-esque hair is dripping down my blushed skin, while Reuben’s is matted to his forehead at the front, with a little tuft sticking up at the back. 

I love that tuft.

We are freezing but smiling, because long gone are the days of selfies and camera timers. Long gone are the days of splashing around in the sea while pausing to throw a nervous glance back at our belongings on the shore. Gone is the heavy responsibility of it being solely ‘on’ me if the belongings are stolen. Gone are the evenings of driving home from work, collecting Reuben, turning the corner to our street, and secretly hoping that someone else’s car would be there. Secretly hoping that someone had decided to surprise us by popping in at dinner time. No one ever did. Gone are the tugging feelings of envy when I see dads doing dad things, which seem more ‘dad-ish’ while on holiday.

Our chattering, toothy grins are steely in the photo. Fleeting. We would quite like the moment to be over. But our soft, smiling eyes tell the eternal story. We are delighted. We are deeply delighted because we are being delighted in, by the one holding the camera.

When I look at this photo and glimpse Reuben’s lankiness, the tuft of hair bringing him up to my collarbone, I wonder why my arms are wrapped around a GROWN MAN. When did that happen? I thank the Lord that we have another person on our adventures to document the hair tufts, the frozen booties, the tight squeezes, the bribery ‘say cheese for the camera and I’ll get you ice cream’ smiles, the belly laughs and the extremely unphotogenic action shots that I wish weren’t captured forever but some day my sentimental heart will savour them. Paddy will never let us miss a moment again. I’m thankful that for the first time, tomorrow I’ll return to work and leave Reuben with his other parent and I’ll return home later to find that someone has permanently ‘popped in’ at dinner time.

But I’m also thankful for the years of ‘just us’. What a privilege to grow up together. Me, Reubs and that tuft of hair.