THIS past week I have been trying to distract myself from the obvious.
My children are in Bali and I’m not.
The girls jetsetted off on their first overseas trip last week with their father, stepmum and little sister.
Right now, they’re most likely on their 120th ride at Waterbom Park or living it up at the beach in 30C weather.
While I am freezing my heinie off in negative-degree downtown twin towns — minus the charm of snow.
I am wearing three layers to bed and I’m still cold.
Although I love winter — mainly because of the hats, coats and boots — I would much rather have a Mai Tai in my hand basking in the sun right about now.
Am I slightly jealous? Maybe. Do I wish I was there? Hell, yes.
But mainly because I miss them like crazy. It’s already been an agonisingly long seven days and I have to endure another seven without them.
It’s the longest time I have been away from my girls and I am starting to feel a bit lonesome.
Don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoy much-needed me time every now and then, because my girls are exhausting.
They drive me crazy most days and you can often find me locked in the car screaming ‘‘serenity now!’’.
They can push me to the absolute limit, where by the end of the day I am either curled up and rocking myself in the corner of the room or downing my fourth glass of wine just for a bit of relief.
They literally suck all the life out of me. But they also put it back in again.
Just when I think they could be the next devil incarnate, they surprise me with the sweetest things.
Or have me crying in fits of laughter.
Before they left, they were busy at their little craft table, drawing me goodbye pictures when Ayla said she needed my phone ‘‘because I have to look at the internet’’.
Reluctantly I gave it to her, telling her to be careful what she typed in Google. Turns out I didn’t have anything to worry about.
She typed in ‘love poems’ as they wanted to write some for me.
Ayla’s was a poem about the bond between a mother and daughter — yep, I literally had to hold back tears.
But then I burst out in laughter as I read Maya’s.
Blissfully unaware, she had written me a lover’s poem.
Which has become a perfect pick-me-up when I am missing them.