Somehow I've managed to find myself on a plane, for work, 3 of the past 4 weeks. I had in mind, when the child came, I would work from home a day or so a week. Rarely travel. How did I find myself working from Europe far more often than I was expecting to work from home?
I'm travelling more often than I was 10 years ago, when I thought I was travelling loads – once week out of every 8 on average. And back then L was fully self-suffcient. And by that I mean I have made commitments by being a parent that she now has to pick up the shortfall for. Back then the only comittments were household chores and pleasant company – something that she could safely do on her own or live without.
My father spent a fair chunk of my very early years working from another city. I just remember him leaving for the week and coming back... on weekends maybe – it's hard to remember. I don't resent him for it, and I didn't resent him for it. I just did not want that for myself.
These things just sneak up on you.
It irks me that somehow I ended up on a path I did not want.
I came home last night after a 3 day trip and the wee one smiled and slowly crawled to me across the floor.
She wasn't doing that when I left.
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