Well, I’m back from my three nights away from my little bee …
I feel refreshed.
I didn’t expect to say this … I honestly thought that maybe I’d get through Night 1, and then Nights 2 and 3 would be unbearable and unbearabl-er, as I struggled under the weight of Mummy-Guilt at not being there for her and the raw pain of her absence.
The first night I slept like a baby (I hate that stupid simile. I slept like a … like a non-breeder, dammit!) The second and third nights I slept even better. I woke up in the mornings and looked at my face in the mirror, and I looked … healthy. No dark circles, no wan resignation writ large on my face – the person who looked back at me was not a mummy; she was a person. It was weird.
But it was also completely normal – I slipped so easily back into the rhythm of the night being for sleeping and the day being for sitting around sipping coffee and talking about books that it was as if these past 22 months had never been. I thought of my family often, but it was with fondness, not pain.
All this sounds far too rosy, doesn’t it? It’s perhaps a little worrying.
Should I not have had a child?
Should I have sown my wild oats for a few more years?
No, of course not. The moment when Maja and I saw each other in the airport carpark last night was the best moment of the whole holiday … I don’t know who was more deliriously happier about it, she or I.
The whole trip felt good – it felt deserved; it felt validating; it even felt a little bit like therapy. It was definitely a holiday – and a lesson that we should be allowed to take time out from this mummyhood business. That it is justified.
Right then, back to the grindstone. I have some dark circles, fine lines and adult acne to restore to my visage. Sigh.