Having
children means you're never alone. You always have your buddy with you.
This
can be brilliant.
You rarely
crave human contact because it's available. All the time.
Whether
it be a three-year-old launching themselves at your back and clinging to your
neck like Batman’s cape, or a five-month-old discovering that if they clench
their gums and throw their head back whilst feeding they can stretch your
nipple to three times its original size.
Being constantly
with children also means there is always noise.
It can
be gentle noise. The panty breath of a sleeping baby. Or the ear-bleeding screech
of a toddler who has been denied a fourth Peppa Pig yoghurt. Noise is absolutely
synonymous with small people. And the lack of it can be unnerving.
If I’m
driving and both children have fallen to sleep in the back, I have to reach
round behind me and panickingly feel for two sets of feet because, although I
know that I would never have left either of them on the pavement, there is
always that millisecond of doubt that creeps in.
But the
thing is, from time to time all you want is quiet. And to not be touched. If only
for 10 minutes. And if you can get that, then you become a more tolerant person
the rest of the time.
I regard
myself as a loud person who hugs people for too long. Even on first meeting I
have been known to go in for the bearhug, much to the surprise of the recipient.
So I was mildly shocked to discover that, since children, I sometimes crave
silence and solitude.
In fact I dream of occasionally booking myself into a
hotel for the night on my own.
It doesn’t have to be a posh hotel. A Travelodge
on the outskirts of Scunthorpe would do.
But a space where I can lie completely
still and not be woken at 4am by a three-year-old touching my face with clammy
hands, and shouting ‘Mummy, is it wakey up time yet?’
Given that
this isn’t going to happen anytime soon, I have had to be inventive when
seeking moments to myself.
Today I
took myself to the launderette down the bottom of our road as a treat.
As Ben
fed the children, I took two loads of washing, Heat magazine and a Dairy Milk and
spent half an hour waiting for our clothes to dry in the industrial dryers.
Now,
this doesn’t bring on the kind of zen-like calm you experience after a spa
weekend, but it's just about enough to have a quick power recharge before
going home, ready to be leap on/ squeezed/ prodded/ kneaded.
And on
top of that, everyone now has clean undies.
So I
guess it’s a win all round.
the kids are now in their late teens and twenties but im still going to the launderette for a bit of peace
ReplyDeleteI'm on the lookout for a laundrette with a tv. That would be the dream!
DeleteHa ha, loved the post! I also start panicking if my children go quiet in a car, I usually end up checking if they breeze ;)
ReplyDeleteThe quiet is unnerving and then they start being really noisy again and you wished you hadn't tugged their legs!!
DeleteWhen your blogposts ping through to my inbox, I always know I'm going to have a quiet moment to myself as whatever the kids are doing, I just turn a blind eye and read your post as I know it will bring a smile to my face. I can really relate to needing those moments to yourself - I got my husband to take the kids to church on Sunday just so I could do the hoovering. I felt like a new woman by the end of the morning as I'd nearly manage to vacuum the whole of upstairs.
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