I had been a nightmare to my husband. He honestly could not say or do a thing right because it immediately pushed all the defense buttons releasing a small, but vicious tiger with very sharp claws that leapt up and swatted him.
I felt like things were really reaching breaking point over the weekend and I just wanted a quiet place to cry, think and wallow a bit in my own emotional exhaustion. I started having fantasies of kind, gentle people dressed in white taking me away to a place where no one needs to be fed, bathed, smiled at or talked to, and all that is required of me is to lie really still while being massaged and fed chocolate and red wine. I honestly for a moment thought really hard about pulling this one off. But nothing came to mind and, reality check, I am a mother. I am needed. Four short years ago I could have disapeared into the Amazon with a backpack and camera for a year and no one would have been affected in the slightest. Now to pull off a 24 hour sabbatical from one's life is like organising the production of Ben Hur. Ofcourse it's possible, but the logistics and organisation that would go into spontaneously leaving the girls and animals with Charles would far outway the few short hours of peace. Or maybe I'm a complete control freak and everyone would be absolutely fine and not even notice my absence. Probably.
On Sunday, however, the sun shone and the gods smiled upon us. We took the girls for a hike along one of my favourite wild beaches, had a picnic, laughed, sang and danced. All was well as my feelings of desperation floated out to sea.
The moral of the story: life would be pretty bleak once the chocolate and wine are all finished and I have no one's demands to cater to...or to go to the beach with.
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