Do you remember those Saturday mornings, before children, you’d roll over in bed and stare at your partner, wondering if 10am was too early to get up? Because you were so tired from all that sleeping you did last night. No, me neither.
7am is considered a lay-in, and even then a child may have joined us.
These days I look forward to Saturdays because I have my right hand man with me. The children have someone else to beg for crisps/biscuits/milk and we get to spend quality time as a family. Even if that is nipping to Sainsburys to buy sausages and baguettes, and spending the rest of the day eating (my favourite past time).
Saturdays now, aren’t about the leisurely time away from work, the lay-ins, the big breakfast Sundays, and no-responsibility hangovers. Essentially, I’m still doing the same thing at the weekend, as I do all week. Get up, feed everyone, dress everyone, sit for hours wondering where the hell to take them, countdown until Mr F comes home. But for the most part, I do enjoy it.
I try to make the most of our Saturdays now. By that I mean showering in peace, eating breakfast, drinking hot (not lukewarm or cold) tea, speaking to an adult face to face and occasionally I get to organise the freezer, it truly is special.
My shower this Saturday morning took longer than it normally would. I spent about 5 minutes putting each sock on when I got dressed. I found every excuse I could to stay upstairs and be alone. I rarely get to enjoy my own company. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was alone in the day. No child tugging at my leg with a potty full of wee or a baby asking for a cuddle purely to vomit down my shoulder.
For some reason this Saturday I just needed some space. I needed time to myself, I would say in quiet but I could hear the rowdiness downstairs. It was nice to have daddy take the reigns with the children. I just sat upstairs listening to Mr Firstooth ask the toddler to not wipe peanut butter on the walls (did he really let him wander around with peanut butter on toast?), to know I wouldn’t become covered in porridge, I didn’t have to break up any baby vs toddler fights over a sofa cushion and then have the usual conversation that chocolate and fishfingers aren’t breakfast food and if you throw yourself on the floor in a fit of temper I will throw the bloody lot in the bin. I just sat upstairs not giving a shit.
Then he said it,
”What are you doing up there?”
I wanted to say ‘just fuck off, I’m relaxing’, but I felt that was a little extreme and a slightly unjustified answer so I used the guise of ”I’m just cleaning”, which he never questioned when he saw that not one single thing had been cleaned.
I enjoy my two crazy buggers every day, but everyday, all day, is a lot of time to spend with anyone, even your own children. I get lost in the mundane routines of our daily life and I forget that we need a break, I need me time, sometimes I need to be selfish and grab the chance for an hour alone with bit hands and hug it. A happy mum creates happy children afterall.
Today, we’ve not laughed as much as we did, in a long time. The day suffered no tantrums, no tutting or rolling my eyes. From start to finish we laughed and had fun, it was a day as easy as Supermum makes it look. Perhaps we could all do with a little break once in a while, even if it’s just to sit in peace for an hour.
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