Switch off

I left the twins yesterday morning. Went into their room at 5 am to stroke their sleeping heads, stifled a sob and then left for the airport, all the while thinking about how I was going to miss Evan's throaty chuckles and Jordan's girlish giggle.

On the flight, Packrat intoned many times that I should start catching up on my sleep. And sleep I did, on the second leg, from Narita to LA. Singapore to Narita was impossible. But I kept drifting into semi-consciousness in my sleep and my thoughts would always be about whether I should give the kids water to drink because the cabin air was very dehydrating or whether I should feed them because I couldn't remember the last time I fed them. It really took some effort to remind myself that I wasn't with them.

Then, I asked Packrat whether he missed the twins. And he said no. I looked at him, ready to accuse him of being a bad father and he said he preferred to live in the here and the now. And since the twins weren't here and the point of the holiday was us, we should enjoy us. I asked him how and he said it was time to switch off. To switch from Mommy mode to wife mode.

Problem is, as proven with sex, men are like switches. ON. OFF. There's no in between. Women are different. There's a whole lot of warming up that has to be done. And I think it's going to take a while. My sis-in-law suggested I bring some of their clothes. Just like how we left some of our sleep clothes with the twins so that they would have our scent. Problem is, kids' clothes don't smell like the baby shampoo ads. They smell like sour milk and saliva. So when I opened the bag of tops I brought with me, it was like sniffing yogurt that had gone off. Nope, does nothing to soothe the Mommy and triggers the gag reflex instead.

I'm going to have to find my own binkie, my own way of being close to the twins while being away. But until then, I'm just going to watch their little vignettes on my phone and drive Packrat crazy.

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