All by myself
NS February 4th, 2009
Here’s a fact: When there is someone else around, even for just part of my day, I am an infinitely better mother. My patience levels soar, my affection manifests itself and I feel happier, calmer and more sane all around.
Due to the heavy snowfall that London received a couple days ago, The Noble Husband was forced to work from home both Monday and Tuesday. Just knowing he was upstairs and that I could pop in for a quick chat or ask him to keep an eye on one of the kids while I used the loo or put a load of laundry on made all the difference in my mood. The day flew by instead of dragging on endlessly like it often does when I’m not around any other adults. I can now understand why the 1950s was when we started to see the emergence of the unhappy housewife — it was the beginning of mass movement to the suburbs and isolation for mothers raising children. I truly believe, after logging nearly three years of it, that parenthood is meant to be a shared experience on a much more regular basis than just weekends and evenings.
The irony is, as much as I want company during the day, in the evenings and on weekends I just want to be alone. I dream of uninterrupted baths, laying on the sofa for hours reading a book and going for solitary strolls. Strange, huh?
