The Week We Passed the Child Around Like a Potato Sack

 

It was Saturday evening, and I realised the countdown had officially started.

My partner was finally coming home.

Soon, I would be able to count the days left on one hand.

Sunday morning immediately reminded me not to get too excited about things, because my little one greeted me with a runny nose and a cough.

Wonderful.

I could already picture the week ahead.

The week from hell.

We are extremely busy at work right now. On top of that, I continue teaching English classes almost every morning and almost every evening.

And I absolutely cannot take him with me.

He is currently in the phase where he asks approximately 10,984,583 questions per second, and as much as I love him, it drives me completely insane.

So yes.

My child was passed around like a potato sack for the entire week.

Me. His grandmother. Back to me. Back to his grandparents.

Whoever was available became the responsible adult.

I had so many things on my mind that every single day somehow felt like an entire week.

The funny thing is that my little boy was having the time of his life.

Sometimes the weekends and weeks that look completely chaotic from the outside are the ones that quietly give us exactly what we needed.

He was incredibly happy to spend so much time with his grandparents, and knowing that he was happy made everything much easier.

It also meant that, for a few hours at a time, I could actually sit down and do my work properly without hearing:

“Muuuum?”

every thirty seconds.

Cooking and cleaning, however, were officially cancelled.

I refused.

They were simply off the table.

I was in complete survival mode, and feeding everyone something edible felt ambitious enough.

I have written before about what it feels like when your battery is almost empty and life somehow keeps asking for more.

But Thursday was different.

Thursday was operation Daddy Is Coming Home.

With the enthusiastic and slightly questionable help of my little boy, we cleaned the whole house.

I ordered a small cake to welcome Veni home and bought a bottle of champagne.

I even went looking for decorations, but I couldn’t find anything I liked, so I gave up on that part.

Normally, I would have loved to make the cake myself.

But this time I simply didn’t have the time or the energy.

And you know what?

That was okay.

The cake did not need to be homemade.

The house did not need to look perfect.

We just wanted him home.

Friday evening finally came.

Veni walked through the door and loved the surprise.

And our little boy?

He was over the moon.

He immediately started showing his dad every new toy he had received, every little thing he had made, and probably several things that had absolutely nothing to do with the three weeks he had been away.

There was so much excitement packed into one tiny person.

And suddenly, after weeks of schedules, work, classes, grandparents, grocery runs and passing our child around like a very talkative potato sack…

we were all home.

Together.

My family.

I think you notice the feeling of home differently after you have spent some time missing the people who make it feel that way.

Sometimes the happiest ending to a chaotic few weeks is not a lesson, a breakthrough or finally getting your life perfectly organised.

Sometimes it is a cake on the table, a bottle of champagne in the fridge, a little boy talking far too loudly…

and hearing the front door open.

He was home.

And for the first time in weeks, so were we.

 

Maybe Your Story Belongs Here Too

Family life does not always look organised.

Sometimes it looks like calendars, grandparents, rushed handovers, forgotten chores and a child being passed from one loving pair of hands to another while everyone tries to make the week work.

If you have ever had one of those chaotic family weeks — the kind that somehow ends with everyone exhausted but grateful — I would love to hear about it.

Your story does not have to be perfect.

Real life rarely is. 🤍

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