I spend my whole life telling mums to go out and take time for themselves.
So practicing what I preached, I did just that and went to have a drink with my mate at her house after school last week.
I had the kids with me, they played Lord of the Flies and went feral with my mates’ kid while she and I chatted and laughed and had a great time. F*ck dinner, I thought, f*ck the house work, f*ck it all – I’m having “me time”.
So I messaged Denim that I wouldn’t be home in time to make dinner and he would have to.
I arrived home at around 7pm and of course the house was a mess. Denim had put the roast on and used every dish in the kitchen to figure it out.
I told him he could clean as well, because he needs to learn how to clean as you go so you’re not washing dishes until 9pm.
He and I had an argument over housework – I could tell he would do a shit job of the dishes and roast lamb needs elbow grease – so I stormed into bed telling him he could put Raja to bed, both of us too pissed off to do the next days’ school lunches.
Raja likes to sleep in the double bed, not his cot, but I don’t fall for that because he won’t sleep through unless he’s in the cot. Of course Denim does. So Raja goes to sleep in the double bed.
I’m woken up at 2am to him screaming for me, because nobody else will do. I go to him and try to sleep with him but he literally smells me still to this day and wants milk or something, god knows what, but he tosses and turns all night next to me.
Finally I fall asleep only to be woken up 30 minutes later by Billie-Violet yelling that it’s 8:30am!!!!!
I race around trying to get their f***ing lunches done – that’s 10 sandwiches because they have all decided they want two sandwiches with the crusts cut off – and even though I say “no more, you can have one sandwich and eat the bloody crust!” I can’t bring myself to not do it…every f***ing day.
School tops out of the wash and into the dryer, the five-year-olds look down and mumble they can’t find their shoes.
“Of course you can’t.”
Finally, 30 minutes late for school I do the walk of shame to get a bite from the office and take them all in.
I get back, Denim is folding washing and think f*ck it, I don’t want to stay mad. So I make Denz an olive branch coffee. He accepts it, despite the fact that the mug has droplets of oil from the poorly washed dishes the night before.
It would have been so easy for me to say “f*ck it”, it’s just too hard, taking me time makes the wheels fall off.”
But my mate messaged me about how good it was to catch up and let our kids play-fight (bash each other) in the backyard without worrying about racing off so soon.
And it was worth it…and I’ll keep doing it.
It’s what life’s about. Who gives a shit if the kids are late and the dishes are f*cked, this is life.
But I want you to know I understand. I understand why you might read my words about going out, doing something for yourself and think, “it’s all too hard”.
Because it is f***ing hard, especially when it feels like your whole life is a game of catch up.
The kids won’t remember getting to school late or a hectic morning. But they will remember playing Lord of the Flies with their friends to the soundtrack of mum’s laughter all afternoon.
This post originally appeared on Constance Hall’s Facebook page and has been republished here with full permission.
Feature image: Supplied/Constance Hall.
