We woke on Monday morning with a clear plan of what the day would be. A trip up to Dubbo for eye examines and a picnic lunch at the park.
Then the text message arrived on Luke's phone to confirm his appointment with the surgeon the following day. At the Prince of Wales Hospital. In Sydney. Six hour drive away.
The appointment we thought was on the 15th was actually the 5th. A few puzzled looks at each other and possibly a few profanities followed. What happened next was a crazy woman throwing stuff into bags. Clothes, shoes, toiletries, nappies, bottles, panadol, antihistamines, puffer, toys, cuddlies, pillows and everything else required when travelling with three young children.
I truly did not know how we were going to manage to get ourselves down there in time, and it’s not like you can simple reschedule the appointment. We had made this one 7 weeks ago. Then my mum called and I begun telling her that it couldn’t be done. It was impossible. She told me to just do what had to be done and if I forget anything there are shops there.
Once Luke incredibly manage to organise perfect accommodation I begun to calm a little. I had somehow managed to pack an overnight bag for myself, but of course I threw in a white skirt and 3 pairs of black undies. Toothpaste but no toothbrush and no deodorant. Thankfully our hotel was right across the road from Woollies. Mum was right.
We were on the road by 11am, after an uneventful trip and a pit stop at McDonalds we had arrived and all the boys were tucked up and asleep by 7:30pm.
The next day after his appointment, we were so lucky to have nearly a whole day at the beach. Even though the skies were grey, the breeze cool and the water freezing.
As I watched the boys run, splashed, explored and yell, I sat on the shore, wiggled my toes into the warm sand, held the hand of my best friend and breathed the sea air in deeply.
I was so thankful for this moment and my silver linings.
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