Just a Few Hours

I experienced Mummy Nirvana on Saturday. 

At 8am, I jumped out of bed, did my makeup, got dressed, jumped in the car….and left my kids and husband at home. For 5 hours.

It….was…BLISS!

As mums, I know we’re not really meant to admit that running away is our fantasy, but be honest, occasionally we all have that dream of being single and kid-free. Saturday was the closest I’ll ever come to living that dream, and I’m not ashamed to say that I loved every second of it. 

Here’s the honest to goodness truth: I went out to do the groceries. A few months ago, Husbeast and I did the sums and worked out that if we go to the nearest major shopping town 45 minutes away and make use of Aldi, the green grocers and she bulk butchery, it’s cheaper even with the travel costs than doing our grocery shopping at the local Woolworths, so these days we head there a minimum of once a fortnight. Normally, we all go together on a Sunday, but after two weeks of school holidays I’d had about enough. I needed a few hours on my own, and so Husbeast was on parenting details with no choice.

For those curious, I wrapped it up in the big pretty bow of ‘the Easter Bunny needs to finish shopping and he can’t do it with Boo watching’. Why yes, I am a genius.

I wanted to play my music loud in the car and sing at the top of my lungs. I wanted to buy clothes, and browse Priceline for a few choice makeup items. I wanted to be the one picking Boo’s clothes without her arguing and wanting trashy crap I wasn’t willing to pay for. I wanted so badly not to change a nappy, make a bottle, have an argument or say ‘No, I’ve already said no to that!’ for just a few hours! Is that so wrong?

Apparently so.

I got Mummy shamed for my time away. The disgruntled Aldi guy (why are they so damn sour? The get it better than a LOT of other supermarket workers!) asked why I looked so happy to be grocery shopping. I told him that I was relaxing and having some kid-free time and got told (by the lady behind me) that ‘your children are a blessing, be thankful for them and not for being without them’. It took all my strength to reply with a reserved ‘they’re spending time with their Daddy so Mummy can relax.’

How very dare she? When did being a mother mean I ceased being a person with needs? Why can’t I have, and relish, a few hours away without being made to feel guilty? My kids were safe and looked after, Husbeast was happy to be with them and I needed that time out. It recharged my batteries so I can be a good mother for another few weeks.

What I wanted to say to the lady and her opinion was ‘Go fuck yourself. Until you live my life don’t you judge my choices, how dare you?’ I wanted to detail the assorted school holiday tantrums, the teething, crawling, standing and falling dramas, the ins and outs of separated parenting and my manipulative, slightly unpleasant stepson and make her understand that my job is hard as fuck and I deserve a rest. But I didn’t. Four years ago, as a very young, very single mother, I would have. But now, I know that her archaic opinion doesn’t matter. She’s from a different time, and it’s possibly a very, very long time since she was a stay at home mother. Likely she never had step-drama or chronic illness and me unloading on her isn’t going to open her eyes or mind, it’d just waste my breath and upset me. 

Instead, I took a deep breath, said ‘thankyou’, paid for my groceries and came home to love on my kids and husband. And as I drove home, singing at the top of my lungs, I reminded myself of one thing:

It’s not selfish to take a few hours for yourself. It’s necessary.

It's Tuesday and I'm joining up with Essentially Jess for I Blog On Tuesdays. Pop over and read a few of the other awesome blogs linked there!