I’d love it if just for one day I could be in the house by myself, without the constant anticipation of ”they’ll be back soon”. I could clean everything, finish jobs I’ve been putting off and organise the drawers, without everything being removed or thrown after I’d done so.
The tv would be all mine. I wouldn’t have to watch marathon episodes on Nick Jr, pretending to enjoy the toddlers running commentary. I could watch anything.
I wouldn’t have to watch everything the children are doing or constantly say ”no pushing, don’t do that, put that down”. I could sit down in complete silence and enjoy every moment of it. I wouldn’t hear the chorus of a whinging baby or a tearful toddler, or the constant demands from both.
I could be my own person for the day, in the comfort of my own home. There’d be no baby hanging off my leg or attached to my hip. I’d have no frantic rush around to get everyone dressed, fed and cleaned, forgetting to even brush my hair. There’d be no putting a child on the toilet every half an hour, without even going myself, at all, all day.
I’d have no wake up call in the morning and I could get myself showered and dressed before heading downstairs. Instead of thinking ‘sod it all’ and carrying the children downstairs in a baggy top and knickers.
I wouldn’t have to share ANY of my food. I could make myself breakfast, which is the same as what the children eat, and I’d get to finish it. I wouldn’t have a toddler saying they don’t like theirs, but want mine, even though it’s THE SAME SHITTING THING. I wouldn’t have to hide when I tuck into a bag of Minstrels after preaching to the toddler that they’re very bad and naughty. But they’re not, they’re oh so good.
At bedtime I could just go to bed. It’d be that easy. Instead of wrestling children into their pyjamas, saying ‘SIT DOWN’ repeatedly when they’re in the bath and then always having one awake late at night, convincing and begging them to please go to sleep.
I wouldn’t be on the verge of tears at various points throughout the day, because the baby just dropped her spoon but before that she hit her brother, threw up down my top, emptied the cereal across the floor, learnt to climb the chair and smash a vase, refused to nap, wanted to be carried at all times and then just cried, for no known reason. I’d feel pretty peaceful if I were alone in the house, watching the world go by through the blinds.
Some of these things I do enjoy, especially waking up to chatty children and their tv isn’t so bad. I don’t think I’ll ever have a day alone in the house and when I do, I’d have forgotten all the bad days and I’ll be wishing the time back. ‘Cherish every moment’ isn’t possible. But being grateful for their company and their time is.
Just one day would be quite nice though.