About a week ago, I wrote a desperate message to my husband.

“I want to come home, baby. I miss you–and what on earth am I going to do here for the next six weeks?”

Here’s the deal: My parents work at an international school in Malaysia. I am currently visiting said international school for two whole months while my husband is gone doing Marine Corps training, and I absolutely adore my family so two months with them when they live thousands of miles away and we only get together once a year is an amazing opportunity.

But last week, school started. My mom is an English teacher and my dad works in development, so they have full days. Then my three siblings who are still are home spend all day attending classes on statistics and physics and other joy-filled academic delights.

That leaves me at home. Alone.

Except I’m not actually alone. Being alone is easy because you can sleep all day and slob in front of the TV and make food when you want to and then eat that food in peace. If you want to go to the mall at 2pm, you can do that. Why? Because nap time is optional when you’re an adult. Basically, you can do whatever you want.The funny thing is that I have a toddler. A 15-month-old tornado of energy who likes to suck the earwax off his uncle’s headphones and eat banana peels he found in the trash can and lick the makeup brushes he keeps getting into in my bathroom.

Oh no, I’m hardly alone here.

Instead, I am fully responsible for a tiny human not destroying anything or killing himself in a home that is not even my own. I can’t leave him alone because if he gets into something he’s not supposed to touch it’s not an “oh well” moment, it’s a dude, that was Nanny and Grandpa’s wedding china you just smashed. Oh my goodness, please don’t tell me you broke the antique vase we bought in China ten years ago!

Not so relaxing anymore, is it?

In all seriousness, I’m completely over exaggerating. I’m not really–my son genuinely is insane and there are a lot of valuable and conveniently smash-able items in this house–but my parents are laid-back enough they would probably laugh it off before going upstairs to cry. My son is generally well behaved and has a tendency to only pick the dangerous or hardy objects to play with (I guess the valuable vases and china look boring) so I don’t have to worry too much about him. He really does play well on his own and requires less supervision than you might imagine considering how crazy he is.

 

He’s a cool kid and I like hanging out with him. He’s my favourite tiny human, actually, and I love staying at home making sure he doesn’t mortally wound himself or tear the house to shreds. Even if it’s not in my home.

Still, the day came when everyone packed their backpacks and headed to school, gone until dinner time. My son ran up to the screen door as the van pulled out of the driveway and he looked forlornly out, thinking the exact same thing as me. They left us here. What do we do now? 

When you’re on your own, you do whatever you want. When you have a toddler, you can still do almost anything you want, you just have to drag them along–and the older they get, the harder they become to drag. We’re getting to the age where my son no longer drags very easily and it’s led to us not going anywhere we can’t walk to and spending most of our time at the local cafe or playing with pots on the kitchen floor and hanging out in the upstairs living room, watching The Middle.

That’s toddler mom life, and it’s just for a season.

Every day I wake up with nothing on my agenda and then conveniently, twelve hours later, the sun has gone down and I haven’t done anything except chase around my toddler and drink 8 cups of tea. I might have all the time in the world while I’m here, but it goes by quickly.

This post was intended to be about the freedom I found with all this time but I got a little carried away with my introduction. That post will come next, but now you have a good understanding of where I am in life at the moment.

I still miss my husband and believe it or not, I also miss North Carolina–a phrase I never thought I would utter–but I am ineffably grateful to be here in Malaysia, with my parents and siblings.

 

What on earth am I going to do here for the next six weeks? Truthfully, I don’t really know.

It will probably involve cleaning up a few smashed vases, but this is invaluable time we’re never going to get again, and hopefully my parents remember that if my son ever finds their wedding china. Staying at home with a tornado is about as relaxing as being home when an actual tornado hits, but I’m thankful.

Best part? I don’t have to partake in any of those delightful academic classes because I am long done with that joy.

I think I’d rather stay home with a tornado any day.