This weekend, I took a mummymoon. Not a babymoon or a honeymoon, but a mummymoon…
A mummymoon is a mummy holiday when a mumma of the house is tired, exhausted rundown overworked and under paid. It’s when she cannot sing old McDonald happily one more time, and if she has to watch Paw Patrol or any dinkie donk wiggly wonks – she might lose her pinky ponk. It’s when she daydreams about running away, and everything her husband does annoys her and the only alone time she has is when she sits on the toilet pretending to poop when it’s only a pee.
But most of all, it’s to celebrate her awesomeness and unconditional love and giving every day of her life.
I NEEDED this. I needed
this like the deserts need the rain. So I took a mummymoon and I went away with a friend for a night. I drove with the music loud and sang girly anthems and gangsta rap, making sure I sang the f word real loud. I drove through McDonald’s and ordered nuggets and didn’t have to share one. I DONT EVEN EAT NUGGETS! I arrived, and only had one small bag to lug around, no boat sized pram, 15 bags and two screaming babies.
I drank hot uninterrupted coffee. I had cake, cake all to myself. A full night sleep and a sleep in. Enjoyed the sites without having to chase anybody, and scream “it’s not funny, come back!” I relaxed and I mean really relaxed.
Oddly, as much as I needed a break,my mummy moon wasn’t an easily welcomed idea. I know that it’s not tradition for mothers to go on holiday, see It doesn’t even come out of the mouth as easy as a man saying I’m going on fishing trip with the boys, now does it. Well, This was my fishing trip and I caught some Z’s.
My husband was fine with my mummymoon. In fact he kinda insisted when he saw me sitting on the floor silently staring at the ground, humming quietly. Other people? Not so much. I told them about my mummy moon… and they were shocked. I offended so many people, you’d think my mummymoon was a 6 month trip to Europe. It was for one night. ONE. NIGHT. Less than 24 hours. An hour and a half away. People thought of my husband as a poor desperate babysitter, filling in for my duties. I could read their thoughts through their eyes…how could I leave him?? Friends and family were all offering to pitch in and help with the kids, people I barely know too.. “Do you want me to cook for hubby? Tell him I can come over and help” I was even asked, “are you going to leave him a list to help him out?” Like he was incapable of caring for his own children. He might not do it like me, sure, but he can do it.
I found it funny though that when a mum is home alone, and looking after the kids day in or day out, or if her husband goes away, no one offers to cook for her? No one comes and takes the kids because it might be a little hard on her. No one rushes to her aid like she’s a helpless little lamb. We are often forgotten.
I didn’t leave him a list. Instead I enjoyed and took time out for me. I didn’t even stress about them. I didn’t realise how much I needed it until I went and got a massage.
Every rub that lady gave my tired aching body, felt like little catholic approved orgasms. I was in heaven… but a part of me wanted to apologise for my body, my dry feet, my flakey psoriasis… that non deserving feeling you often feel…
but I didn’t.
I didn’t because shit… this is me and I NEED this. I deserve this. And for once, I didn’t need to be polite.
The lady massaging me asked what kind of work do I do, and I’m not sure why, but I said “oh, I’m just a mum” the four words I always beg mothers not to say.
I guess I said it because that’s how I have been feeling. That I’m just a mum. While being a mum is wonderful, it’s not all I am.
This trip made me realise life isn’t over. And not in the sense that having children ends your life, but in the sense that my life of independence is not over. That as a parent, you can have needs and wants. Of having time as a person, as having little hobbies or having special time to yourself. It’s not something that should be thought of as selfish, or unnecessary. It was very necessary should I need to stop feeling like “just a”… anything.
I was burned out, and now I know to never let myself get to that point without doing something special for myself. Maybe a getaway is something I or you can’t do often or at all, but for once, just once, instead of buying a million outfits for your kids (because they dress better than us, let’s face it) go get a quick 20 minute massage for 20 bucks.
Something I didn’t mention is I drove here on the way was a small road through the mountains.It was beautiful and breathtaking but very curvy and winding and narrow. A road like that would have given me anxiety. But having kids has made me fearless. They’ve given me a new strength in life. If I can battle bedtime with a headstrong toddler, a winding road is a piece of cake.
My life isn’t over as me, no, my life is also something different now. It’s a combination of a new beautiful, and mixed with my old reckless life.
I needed to recentre myself, and I did. However, It’s amazing how long 24 hours can feel once you realise how much you actually miss your children. I felt like me again and like I was ready to go back to being a mummy. Sure, I bragged about it only being 24 hours, but after the 12th hour, I started to feel a little sad. I kinda missed the sound of my son singing “daddy finger daddy finger, where are you?” Over and over at 12am. I missed my cheeky little girls toothy grin. I kinda missed being asked questions repeatedly, having an audience when I poop…and I kinda missed sharing my cake with someone. Actually I really missed it. A lot.
I came back refreshed and raced through the door, I even remembered how much I loved my husband and kissed him over and over,feeling a little teary.
I felt like me again, and I felt ready to go back to doing it all. Do I feel selfish or any remorse? Nup… I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I encourage all women to have mummymoons. We deserve it. We bloody deserve it.
Wow, if one night away kid and husband free can make me a better mum and wife… imagine what a week in Vegas could do… ey ey ey ?
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