For those of you who are new to my blog, firstly welcome – thanks for sharing the love. Secondly I should explain the premise of Freedom Fridays. Being a Stay-At-Home-Mum and a golf widow at the weekends, it was agreed that Friday would be nursery day. Little man gets to hang out with little people his size rather than spending every waking moment with me and I get eight hours of glorious me-time. I’ve made it my Friday mission to share my top three of whatever seems relevant that day. We’ve had everything from book reviews to mum maintenance.
Today, despite my post earlier in the week, I have been struggling to feel the joy. I’ve been trying. I promise. It wasn’t the 5am wake-up call. In fact, lumping the little man in to bed with me (husband is germy so in the spare room) was actually quite snuggly and a nice way to start the day. It wasn’t the solo challenge of trying to get him ready for nursery when he wanted to watch Chase on the case and Rubble on the double, hell – I was still feeling the joy even with the Paw Patrol pups incessantly woofing and blaring sirens. The reason for my grump was simple – hubby had gifted himself the day off to play golf so was not up and out to work at 7:30. How lovely I hear you cry – time together, such a rare and precious thing. No! On a Friday, it is not. Cue petulant stomping of feet and huffing.
I should be grateful I know, but being an Unyoung Mum who spent a decade living alone, I crave time to myself. My top three today are plain and simple: three reasons to love being alone.
- Silence. I do the nursery drop off. I drive home. I put the key in the door. I step inside. I hear – nothing. No-one asking me for anything. No-one grumbling. No-one banging and crashing around. No noise apart from the rumble of the washing machine I put on before leaving and the purring of a cat rubbing against my leg. There is a lot to be said for silence.
- Mess. The only mess that is created is that of mine. I don’t leave a trail of crumbs behind me like Hansel and Gretel when I have toast unlike my husband. I don’t require a fresh pint glass for every glass of water I have and collect them on the side. I don’t traipse leaves in to the kitchen when I go outside to get my golf clubs. I don’t smear porridge across, well, everywhere when I have my breakfast. When I am alone – I rinse bowls, I put things in the dishwasher, I wipe down sides and I put things back in the fridge when I’ve used them. Clean. Nice. And relaxxxxx.
- TV and snacks. I put on what I want, without the need to justify it’s televisual merit. Ru Paul’s drag race is educational from a make-up tutorial perspective (maybe need to lighten up on the contouring there Karen). And yes, I will bust open the christmas shortbread without so much of a twinge of guilt about not sharing as I plough my way through. I might feel a twinge of guilt about the saddle bags I waddle in to Saturday with though. Damn you shortbread and your buttery allure.
Luckily my subtle hints to hubby (“go away,” “this is my time – you get Saturdays and Sundays on the golf course,” “why are you still here?”) had the desired impact. By 10:30, Tiger Woods had left the building. I may have felt a little bit mean, tossing him out on to the streets in the drizzle but I’m all about the preservation of my mental health. Rinsing his porridge bowl, putting away the butter twice and dust-busting the crumbs from my freshly robot-hoovered carpets after his sandwich was enough to send me in to a meltdown in the half an hour he was in my presence between my morning run and his exit. Calm is now restored. The next six hours are mine, all mine! Now get me on i-player and pass me the bronzer!
Do you like time alone? Are you happy in your own company or do you thrive on being social. What are your alone-time must dos? Am I a Queen Bitch for demanding time to myself instead of enjoying alone together? So many questions… Have a fab weekend!