Sleepless in London

So. Two nights at the Metropolitan in London.
A few coaching sessions.
A bit of training in solution focused coaching.

But most of all - it is the light at the end of the tunnel.

Don't get me wrong. I love the tunnel. It is magnificent job challenges that make me grow as a human being and as a consultant. It rakes home money like it's going out of style.

But it is tough and demanding. And it has a beginning and an end.

During the last month I have worked on four continents. I came home from Vietnam two weeks ago, repacked the bags and left for Dusseldorf and then Stockholm, and then Palestine/Jerusalem, and now London.

I am having a lot of fun, and the work is extremely rewarding.

But the tunnel is there. It is taking it's toll. And I see the end of it now.

9-5 tomorrow. Then I eject. I will take a taxi to Heathrow, check in my über-unbreakable bags and sit down at the seafood bar. I will call my wife, tell her that she is the love of my life and that I will be home around midnight.

This is the last roadrunning for a while. The next hardcore assignment is not until the end of January. And even then it is only to Düsseldorf. I think I have sneaked out of a job in Maputo, Africa, in January. It really fucked up my planning.
Until Düsseldorf I am at home, with the occational stint in Stockholm. And trust me - when I am home I am h.o.m.e. I NEVER call to say I'll be home late, or that "you should have dinner without me". I leave the kids at kindergarten, I pick them up around 4. I am at home with them and kiss them goodnight.

On Saturday morning I will watch cartoons with my son when he wakes up. He speaks about our "cozy mornings" when we build a nest in the couch and just lie there, half asleep, in front of the telly, waiting for the morning lights to wake us up fully. The trick is not to wait until he is completely awake, but to carry him gently downstairs after his first morning sounds... I usually whisper to him "shh... you don't have to wake up, I can carry you down to the couch and you can keep sleeping there. Ok?"

I long for that.

I long for putting away the big aluminum bags that haul my heavy workshop material. I long for putting away the High Performance Resin Cases that carry my essentials on roofs of jeeps through monsoons and brutal snow when I work in Afrika or Russia or wherever.

I just want to wake up in the morning, focus on the challenge of getting the kids properly dressed, and then sitting in my office in Malmö and think about whom to eat lunch with.

That is quality of life for me. That is the end of the roadrunning of 2009.

Seven laps around the world this year, in sheer milage.
Seven.

I am so tired now. The past month has been an orgy in timezones. This is my first time at the Metropolitan in London. I like the hotel, but since it is my first time I didn't recall the room when I woke up.

So I woke up this morning and couldn't figure out which country I was in. I remember looking up at the ceiling saying to myself: Where am I? *blank* Come on! Which country?! *blank* Ok. Which continent? Asia? No - think think think, damnit! Western - look at the couch. Look at my bags. Where am I and what is my assignment?????

And then it clicked. London.

And I got happy, because I knew it is my last trip before coming home for good this season.

And I got sad, because I thought "how fucked up am I when it takes me more than 10 seconds to even figure out which bloody continent I am on, and which country I am in?!"

I love my job.
I love the places it takes me.

It's not that.

I just love my wife, and my family, and my home a whole lot more.

So tomorrow night I will come home, put the bags in the study at home, brush my teeth, undress and sneak up to the bedroom, curl up next to my wife and tell her that I am home and that I love her.

Then I will sleep for a few hours, and at the first sound of the kids I will carry them downstairs quietly, put them on and between the pillows in the couch, wrap them up in our warm, grey fleece blankets and lie next to them.

And I will whisper to them, but mostly to myself, that "shhh....daddy is home, go back to sleep, all is good". Probably with mushy tears welling in my eyes, because all the longing and aching I suppress when I am away will be itching just under my skin.

No more "sleepless in whereverthefuck" for two solid months. No more Skype sessions where I fake enthusiasm in front of two lovely kids eating dinner for 30 minutes, log off and then pinch my skin to snap out of the longing for home.

Daddy is home.

I don't know if you know how much those three words mean to me.

I love my work, and I love the impact I have on the people and organizations I have the privilege to work with. I love being able to provide a good living and security for my family.

But it all boils down to those three words at the end of a long period of back to back business trips.

Daddy is home.

Magic to my ears.