Have flown back into the asylum that is motherhood and after two days basking in the sunlight, that is leg movement free of a cruising infant, I am surprised at how ecstatic I am to be here.
I loved my time away, no I don’t think you understand I LOVED it. I had a bath, I had not one but multiple conversations that were not punctuated with “Careful sweetie, no, stop…stop. BANG! stop hitting him on the head...” and I even got to have a dance that didn’t involve the Wiggles.
In short I got a healthy reminder of who I am as a human. Not a mother, not a wife, just a valuable individual and surprise, surprise, it made me happy! And I’m still happy, despite being exhausted and ever so slightly hung over.
My normal state is borderline miserable with bonus mental health days thrown in to keep the local psychologist busy. And despite her specifically telling me to take time for myself, basically to maintain my sanity, the two hours here and there I was getting only served to frustrate me. A shower, a tidy up, a cup of tea, and just when you've finished checking your email and drafted the first line of the blog post that will change the world, the time would abruptly end with “waaaahhhhh” (and yes the baby would be crying as well).
Having now been given* around 53 hours in a row to myself I feel like a sumo wrestler has been lifted off my shoulders. I actually wanted to spend time with my children today, and my husband got a look in as well [very rare!]. All the while I didn’t nag, or criticise or lash out, I even did chores without a second thought. I was the me that I’d forgotten existed, the me I dreamed about being. Who knew that it was just sitting there, raring to crack a smile as soon as I got a break?
I’ve heard the saying ‘Happy wife, happy life’, I’ve listened to the wise words of so many saying “the best thing for children is a Happy Mummy”, and I’ve lamented my own elusive happiness while berating myself for not being able to just be happy and get on with it.
All I can say is if 2 days can generate this amount of joy in one grumpy mummy, go away, leave the kids with your partner, your parents, a nanny, the dog, whoever but just give yourself a break. I can’t recommend it enough. Don’t talk yourself out of it with fear or martyr complexes; go away. You deserve it, you need it and your family will thank you for it.
I just hope my 2 year old doesn’t start pushing me out the door when he’s had enough,
“Go away Mummy. Go away. And come back happy”
*Honorable mention has to go to my
desperate to be living with a happy person generous husband
who pushed me to take a break, and as a result lost a weekend himself, thank you xxx
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