The Bakers Adventures

They say time flies when you’re having fun, but they don’t mention the whirlwind of emotions it leaves in its wake. Dan’s time here was brief, yet so full of laughter, connection, and moments that felt like home. But, because life isn’t a movie where everything ties up with a perfect bow…there were also moments of disconnection.

People romanticise reunions, don’t they? As if they’re all fluffiness and sunshine, a fairy-tale reset where everything slots back into place. But reunions are layered. They hold vulnerability, the deflection of insecurities, and the friction of two people trying to unlearn and relearn each other. Time apart changes you. It’s inevitable. And while living together teaches you these shifts in small, subconscious ways, being apart can make the changes feel stark, almost jarring.

We had our bickers, though nothing heavy. We’ve long since moved past the rows that drain your soul, but even those minor disagreements sting in their own way. They feel like a misrepresentation of how much love we have for each other.. less about us and more about the circumstances. Still, while those moments were rare, it felt important to share this as so much of what we read fabricates reality and I care about presenting this journey as authentically as possible.

What stood out more were the laughs, the familiar chaos our family brings, and the silent moments of peace that only come from truly knowing someone. Soon enough, it felt like he’d never left.

Of course, I’d be lying if I said having him back wasn’t also annoying at times (I promised myself honesty here). Not because I love him any less but because of how his “husband ways” so seamlessly took over again. The things I had confidently managed in his absence were suddenly his domain once more, and I felt a sting of defensiveness. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate me… if anything, his actions were his way of showing love. But for me, it felt like being demoted from a job I’d worked so hard to excel in. It brought up all the old feelings… Was I good enough? Was I appreciated? Was I just filling in until he came back?

The truth, I know, is far simpler. He was showing up, trying to lighten the load, as he always has. But my reflective, sensitive self still wrestled with it. Along with society expectations around women doing it all otherwise we are lazy. He’s never cared about these outdated views. We are equals in our marriage and always have been.. And yet, through all of this, the love between us felt tenfold stronger.

I didn’t blog at all while Dan was home. I’m not entirely sure why. I tried a few times.. typed things out, even.. but never shared them. Maybe it’s because this journaling, this blogging, feels like a conversation I have with Dan when I can’t speak to him directly sometimes. With him here, there was something comforting about having a human who loves all the loveable and unloveable parts of me right there and cares to listen. It felt good to just be with him, to speak my thoughts out loud instead of typing them out into the void.

Now, I sit here writing this in the middle of PlayZone, desperately trying to filter out the unbelievable sounds small humans make when they’re having fun. How any child has this much energy left after the Christmas break is beyond me. Stupidly, I thought everyone else would be as exhausted as we are and that we’d have free rein of the place. Oh, how wrong I was. Every screech pierces my brain, and I wince with every word I type. What should take me 20 minutes to write will likely swallow this whole 90-minute window, as I repeatedly convince myself the cries are coming from one of my children, who’s surely snapped a bone or detached one completely. My mind is wild, spiralling as I frantically scan the sea of chaos, half-expecting to have to put on my first aid hat at any moment.

Saying goodbye this time, though? That hit differently. Harder. When Dan held me as I cried myself to sleep, I let myself fall into a vulnerability I rarely touch these days. But I felt safe. Safe enough to let him see just how much he’s loved and missed and honestly to exhausted to hide it. I didn’t expect to feel that gutted, as if no part of me had braced for the inevitable departure. But, as I said earlier, time flies when you’re having fun, and this must be the price you pay.

In the middle of all this, though, something incredible happened.. I became an Auntie. It feels important to mention this, because my niece, Ivy, is one of the most beautiful, delicate little girls I’ve ever seen. The overwhelming love I felt for her spilled out of my heart and through my eyes the moment I held her for the first time. My brother, my first friend, despite our complicated relationship now has his own baby to love. I used to dress him up as a kid and treat him like my own real-life doll (much to his dismay). We have a bond that is raw and unapologetic. There’s no cryptic, fake engagements. We push each other’s buttons like siblings do, but we also know the darkest corners of each other’s traumas. I’ll always do everything I can to support him ( even when I’m adamant I’m never speaking to him again) and keep him safe, and now that extends to his little family. Ivy is perfect. I feel pride and hope and so many other things I can’t quite articulate yet. I just know this will be the making of him and the healing of so much.

Now, Dan’s in the air, and I’m anxiously waiting for that “landed safe” text. It’s just me and my girl gang now, gearing up for the next stretch. The next battle is school tomorrow, with all its routines and rhythms to balance out the sugar highs, late nights, and over-stimulated chaos of the Christmas season. Routine will be our anchor until we’re one step closer to being together.

As I move into this next season, I’m reminded of the lessons I wrote about on New Year’s Day—about moving slowly, being intentional, and saving my energy for what and who truly matters. There’s an adventure ahead of me, a deliberate pace I want to set for myself. But today, I’m letting myself feel the weight of love and loss, the bittersweet ache of time well spent.

Because isn’t that what love is? The sweetness of connection and the sting of goodbyes, all wrapped up in the messy, beautiful reality of life together – and apart.