So today I was a Bad Mummy. I’ve had a crazy week of my usual pretence at full time mummy while ‘moonlighting’ as an almost full time worker. By this I mean that I’m with my children most of the time and work most evenings and the milisecond they are at school or playgroup I’m multi-tasking like you wouldn’t believe. Several things suffer in this apparent have-it-all world of mine: the state of my house, my long suffering husband and occasionally my sanity.
I’ve been running around with books on the Christmas circuit and fitting in the odd Tatty Bumpkin party, class, franchise development plan and I’m as battered as a piece of mid-Atlantic cod. Today my children woke before 6 (bearing in mind they wake way beyond 7 most school days so we’re zipping around trying to get ready so to wake early on the only days we don’t have to feels like some sort of sick joke!). Suffice it to say the day didn’t start well, much less so ending well. I was horrible, irritable, over-tired, pre-menstual, unreasonable, uncreative and inconsitent. Not that I’m being hard on myself.
So as soon as they were in the proverbial land of nod, I bolted. When everything seems to be caving in on me and I’m so tired that things no longer make sense I go to my bolt hole, the cinema. Note that this isn’t a fun thing, I don’t go with friends, I just go, pick whatever is on next when I arrive (invariably just the thing I need at the time, last time it was Hairspray, this time it was the Jane Austen Book Club), it doesn’t matter. What matters is the popcorn, the dark room, the lack of need to interact. With anyone. And when I come back I feel a bit more like me. Oh and I take chocolate.
What’s your safety valve?