Friday, 5 July 2013

If mothers are saints, single mothers must be...

I've come to the conclusion that I would make a terrible single mother.

How do I know this? Well, I've been sans husband for five days this week and feel like I've just run 10 marathons without a drinks stop. He was overseas on a work trip, keeping in touch via text and Skype, but his physical absence has been severely felt in our household.

This is kind of hard for me to admit, but you'll see what I mean when you hear about my week (which I tell at the risk of offending feminists globally)...

Day 1: I busy myself by tidying the house with the smug satisfaction that it will actually stay clean for the whole week without him here to mess it up. I start to miss him as soon as the vacuum is switched off, and can't believe I have so many days to go until he's home. At 8pm I realise it's rubbish night and there is no adult male in the house to do the dirty work, so I dutifully wheel the bin down the drive in the dark and freezing cold - no one else has their bins out though... is rubbish night still Sunday?! I have no clue and decide to leave it there as can't be bothered pushing a full bin back up the drive.

Day 2: Wake up feeling exhausted and remember too quickly that I won't be getting a break anytime soon given I'm partnerless for a few more days. This doesn't fill me with joy. I get the little guy out of his cot - thank goodness for his cheery face and soft cuddle! Given his Daddy isn't there to listen, I tell him instead about how sore my back is and how I could barely sleep thanks to his little sister kicking me all night. He stares at me blankly from his highchair, and possibly rolls his eyes.

Day 3: Decide to forgo my little toddler's bath and just give his face and hands a good wash instead. Could barely bend to lift his slippery self out of the bath tub last night and don't think I can risk putting my back out for a second night in a row. He doesn't really need a bath anyway, does he?! I'm sure he was telling me earlier in the day he hates them... let's just go with that, and wait till his Daddy's home.

Day 4: Despite packing our week full of play dates and activities, the lack of evening conversation is starting to catch up with me and I find myself rambling on to complete strangers about anything and everything in a bid to reach my weekly word quota. The pouch of soup I have for dinner tastes like crap, and I start to wonder why I make an effort with dinner when he's here but can't be bothered when he's not. My pledge to not eat any more cakes or slices goes out the window as I tip the soup down the sink and feast on a muffin from the pantry instead.

Day 5: Toddler nightmares throughout the night and midnight cuddles with little tears pooling on my shoulders, resulted in a double dose of exhaustion today and I struggle through the day in a haze akin to having a newborn in the house (good training I guess). Thank god he's back tonight.

So if mothers are saints, single mothers must be goddesses of the world that deserve a diamond-encrusted medal. I've had a glimpse into your world, and I take my hat off to you ladies.

Exhausted on Day 4, I sit down to finish reading the paper then hear "activity" in the kitchen drawers - a spicy disaster was avoided just in time!

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