There are times that I’d really just like to do a poop by myself.
I’ve been told this won’t change until my youngest is somewhere between 8 and 9. I’m actually at that point now that I suffer separation anxiety if a face doesn’t appear mid-strain. I know this reads a little bit like too much information (or TMI if you’re 21) but honestly, kids give you no space whatsoever.
I’m not really sure this is a popular opinion, but I believe that it’s ok to want space sometimes from your kids… after all it’s not like they didn’t take up every relevant cavity you had prior to being born.
Our kids were away at their Grandparents house for the first week of the school holidays and I loved it. Sure I missed the kids on occasion, but I thought it was really healthy for the husband and I to be by ourselves for a week. We had a romantic and debaucherous time at a hotel in Sydney for a few days and did things that adults should be able to do – without 6 eyes trying to have a gander.
After about five days of doing anything the hell I wanted, I had the strangest sensation; I actually started feeling guilty about not feeling guilty about missing the kids. I’m sure there’s a psychologist reading this going “mmmmmm, and ooooohhhhhh” but parental guilt and in particular mother’s guilt is a strange phenomenon.
I had this guilt wear me down over a few days. It could have just been my perpetual hangover, but I’m pretty sure it was just plain old fashioned ‘pack your bags, we’re going on a guilt trip’. Whenever people asked me
“are you missing the kids?”
I felt like I couldn’t really respond (margarita in hand) with a
“Naaah….not even a little bit”
without feeling like a tremendous a-hole. And that really made me feel bad. Maybe I’m just that crap mum that has no ‘missing your kids gene’ or just a crap mum.
Another few days went by and I was incredibly relieved to start feeling the little maternal pangs of missing my kids. These feelings apparently happen to me between days 7 and day 8.35. So, when people asked me that question – even with a margarita in hand – I could genuinely respond with an
and not feel bad for lying as it was now completely true.
The kids arrived home on day 10 and all was fab in the world.
I’ll love them to death for the next 11 months and three weeks, then I’ll not miss when they go away again…because I’m normal (ish!)
I’m already mixing new cocktails for that week in my mind now.
How long does it take you to miss your kids?