August

It’s been an embarrassing lapse in the blogging, but not due to embarrassing reasons.

Sometimes, living takes over. I have decided to forgive myself if my accounts and archiving of Dobbesian adventures are a little time-warped. After all, I was there with you, Dobbes, in all your ooh-ing, aah-ing and ah-chooing.

But still, I have made a commitment to write to you and keep writing, so here is the latest.

August 2009 has been a month of illness and attachment for you. I am not sure why you are so prone to catching fevers and colds. No doubt your immunity-challenged Daddy has been picking up various bugs from his daily duties in camp and passing it on to you (and sometimes me) but you have been particularly susceptible to then contracting them from him lately.

Also, I can’t quite decide whether it is amusing or aggravating that you would appear so weak and ill in the mornings just before I go to work, but the minute I decide to take the day off and bring you to the doctors, you would appear all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again.

Seems a little suspicious to me…

But if you are up to tricks of dramatic deception for us to gain time together, I can’t say I blame you. It is in your blood. At least I know that you crave me being near you and our time together is precious to you too.

***
Mobbes and I have been taking time off once in a while to go on “dates” again. It’s easier to get away with the car at our disposal. But when I say a while, I really mean a while: not more than three hours and most of the time just one or two.

It started with mundane things like picking up groceries or buying furniture for the new house but lately it has been some parties and events that I’ve been invited to. We caught a movie the other time too, after having a pancake supper at a new café.

Every time we go out with just the two of us, Mobbes and I start out happy but end up missing you and rushing home. It’s not just me, it’s your Daddy too. Sometimes he’s the one to say it first.

Although I do admit it is nice to wear something that does not necessarily button in front (for breastfeeding) sometimes and carry a tiny purse instead of a huge bag of supplies, there is just something about having you with us that is preferable.

Maybe it’s about feeling complete.

I don’t know if this feeling will last forever or if it is just because you’re so tiny now and obviously need us around.

But don’t get me wrong: it feels good to want to be with you.

You are what I look forward to when I come home. You are home.