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Listen, everyone struggles when The Mom is away. It matters not if one is in the same country, city or house as she is, when she goes on holiday it’s as if the internet itself has gone walkabout. If one has a question, one has to wait until she gets back to ask. Sure, one could ask the internet, but its answers aren’t as reliable, and plus you can’t expect the internet to answer a question like, ‘How do I make the thing you make when I feel a bit jangly, you know, with the rice?’

The internet does not understand the question. Only The Mom does.

Which is why I suspect The Pig was so terribly excited to see her upon her return. The Pig, like the rest of us, depends on her. Lord save us – knock wood – because when she’s not around, full-time anymore, we are well and truly stuffed.

I tried, during her holiday, to manage this blog to the best of my abilities. But I am not The Mom, thus multitasking is not one of my best skills. I had to remember to go to my office, pack lunch, deal with the freelance work I’m doing, send my novel hither and yon, and remember to change my money, check in for my flight and pack in advance of my flight taking off. This is far, far too much for me.

There was a glitch or two, but as ever, we muddled through. Nobody died, and that’s the first, last and only rule. Which is quite different from the time when I was living at hers and she went away for 72 hours and we lost a canary, nearly lost Crazy D (he was working, chasing tornadoes or destruction in the States) and we nearly lost the entire province in a massive tornado watch.

Even though I wasn’t at home whilst she was away, I was on edge. It’s unnerving when she goes away partly because she doesn’t take a mobile phone or laptop with her. She really does disconnect form the world. And I suppose that’s fine, I suppose I can understand it, conceptually if not pragmatically or personally. We managed to live with it because the friends she was going to visit have all of these things and kept us up to date on the happenings down south.

When I was away in Barcelona this weekend, I took my laptop. And my mobile phone. Because if I didn’t, The Mom would’ve had a conniption fit. Before any of us leaves whatever country we’re living in, she insists upon addresses, contact details, assurance that we’ll be in range of a satellite that will allow us to contact her in case of emergency.

So, when I was away, and updated my Facebook status, The Mom duly commented on it and was reassured that all was well and good, or at least I was all well and good physically and that no one in Barcelona had decided to stage any kind of protest or uprising during my short visit.

 

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