Having survived my identity interview,without being arrested or deported, I was ready for a long lazy weekend, to try not to think about whether I had passed or not. Friday I decided to go to town,to get supplies for the weekend,so we wouldn't be forced to tackle Saturday shoppers. I had walked the dogs and it was still quite early so I thought I might have a bath whilst everyone else was getting they're breakfast and the bathroom was free for a while. The doorbell went while I was in the bath and I lay there listening to the dogs barking wondering when one of my three children,who I knew were all awake,would answer the door. I heard the door open and close,after I called out in not so lady like fashion,for someone to please answer the door.
When I got downstairs,I found an item not delivered card on the table, for a recorded delivery. This meant nobody had answered the door in time. The package would be unobtainable on a van,for the rest of the day. Worried that it may be notification about my passport, I went online to try to arrange a redelivery. They would not be able to get it to me until Monday or Tuesday. I didn't know if my stress levels would allow the relaxing weekend hoped for if I was anxious about this. So I decided to call the delivery office, to see if I could pick up the package from the main post office later, as it said on the card.They couldn't guarantee that if I travelled an hour on the bus to the post office that the package would actually be there, it could mean two hours travel for nothing. Curiosity was killing me, I had to know if it was about my passport. I told the guy on the phone that the reason I had not got to the door in time was because I had arthritis in my hip ( this is actually true). That the driver was gone before I could get there and I was worried that the package contained travel documents, for a flight I was on the next day. Yes, I know, I was weak. However the lovely guy at the post office promised to track down the package and make sure it was delivered the next morning. Lots of profuse thankyous and I was free to go shopping.
I told RC what I had done on the phone and he said,between laughs, that I was a very bad person. When RC got in from work that evening,he found a package addressed to me,in the porch. It was from the passport office, but I couldn't bear to open it and carried on getting tea ready. Later I did open it and found my new passport. It had only been two days since my interview, not 7-10 days I had been told to wait, just to hear about it. We were full of praise for the post office, getting it here so quick. The next morning the real package arrived, certificates for my daughter from college, when we looked at the passport envelope it showed it had come by courier not post office.
Feeling rather sheepish but very happy to have a passport, I went to the travel agents with RC Saturday morning and booked our honeymoon. I am a bit shell shocked. I am going to Malta! I went into the clothing store next door straight after and bought a couple of things for the trip, to make it a little more real. I have terrible butterflies now whenever I think of it. My OCD will come to the forefront now as I obsess over every detail to make our trip and the kids stay at home run as smooth as possible.
Bad mother guilt is already making me nervous. We have never left these kids with anyone before,apart from when I was giving birth, when my parents or sister watched them for a couple of hours. Arthur keeps telling me how he doesn't even live at home anymore and is more than capable of coping. RC's mum comes in every day and his little brother is five minutes away if needed, Ira keeps telling me how his friend's parents do this all the time and he thinks we should go. Cicely sees it as an opportunity to see what running a house is like, as the thought of growing up and moving out scares her a bit. The thought of never moving out scares her more!
So roll on summer. RC is very excited about our holiday and has a long list of sightseeing trips already compiled. Sunday was a much more relaxing day, especially for RC who didn't appear until late morning and spent the day in PJ's writing the great Maltese Zombie horror. Whilst I,having finished the house work and in between dog walks, watched numerous episodes of Trueblood. I'm not sure RC is very impressed with my dvds, he kept peering over the top of his laptop as we sat on the sofa together and enjoyed some of the blacker humour but mostly was absorbed in turning Malta into slaughter central. What a strange couple we are.