Camping: The life hack to family therapy
With a month passed since my official return to work I can safely refer to myself as a working mum again. But, while the 9-5 stuff came flooding back the second I stepped into the office, every Friday evening I find myself flinging my life sucking lanyard across the room and wailing “was it always this hard!” to the mountain of laundry eagerly awaiting my return.
In truth no, being a full-time working mum didn’t seem hard at the time, but I suppose a year out in the real world would dramatically change anyone’s outlook on life. And, while I adore my job, I find myself yearning for the other stuff too. I want the hours at the gym back and I need another day out at the museum! *sobs hysterically*. When will I ever find the time for life (I think that's what all the kids are calling it?) my wonderful free life, now that I’m a work drone once more.
Life doesn’t fit into the sleepwalking hours, you know that mentally exhausted stupor after work and before bed where I am simultaneously expected to cook, clean and catch up with my family. Doctors, dentists and schools aren’t open weekends so I can’t catch up on life there either. By the time the weekend does roll in there’s hardly a spare minute to do any of the fun stuff and the steady treacle of weekday tasks have flooded over into my free time like a burst pipe. Of course sacrifices have had to be made, I’ve sacrificed sleep for laundry, friends for sleep, bath time for time with my husband (hello date night with swampy) and have wanted to scream at the injustice of it all!
Something had to give and it did, my husband gave me the best gift of all. Time. Time away in a tent of all places! No flashing phone or monsoon of tasks threatening to sweep me away. Just hours with the people I love - working as a team to assemble our pop up holiday home without it blowing away! - and it was just what I needed.
In the mad dash back to work, making sure childcare was organised, lunches packed and uniforms ironed, I hadn’t given a second thought to how I would feel or the all-consuming guilt that would accompany the time away from my babies. Somewhere in the wilderness, between cooking outdoors and playing chess under torchlight, I re-connect with my guys. I now realise that it’s the quality, and what I do with my time that counts, not how much of it I have to spare. Now that’s what I call a breakthrough!
In the mad dash back to work, making sure childcare was organised, lunches packed and uniforms ironed, I hadn’t given a second thought to how I would feel or the all-consuming guilt that would accompany the time away from my babies. Somewhere in the wilderness, between cooking outdoors and playing chess under torchlight, I re-connect with my guys. I now realise that it’s the quality, and what I do with my time that counts, not how much of it I have to spare. Now that’s what I call a breakthrough!
If you liked this, you might also like:
Comments
Post a Comment