Do you have one?
When I was younger I used to love climbing onto the roof of a summers
evening and watching the sun go down behind the hills. I would stay put long after it had gone to
bed and just watch the scenery, the swallows swooping and the cars driving
past. When I got chilly I would climb
down and go inside. I still love long
journeys where I can sit perfectly still and just look out the window. It helps
of course that the Screecher Creatures are strapped into their seats and
physically cannot get near me. Sometimes I need that time to recharge my
batteries and enjoy my own space, both physically and mentally before the
pulling and dragging out of me begins again. Bus and train trips were always
enjoyed too for the sole reason of just being able to “blank out” and let my
thoughts wander. The shower can be another little place of respite. But these days I have a new, a more
sophisticated happy place. It looks magnificent and I am sure it is,
especially as I have let my imagination run amuck and redesigned it to my
liking. I have never physically set foot
in it. Never been past the impressive
front gates. This nirvana does actually
geographically exist; it is not just a fantastic figment of my imagination. It
is a hotel on a sprawling estate on the outskirts that is Kilkenny City. And I go there on a regular basis albeit in
my head. But in my hand I have an overnight bag containing a comfy pajama’s and
a couple of books. Rattling around in the bottom is some night cream, a
toothbrush, toothpaste, a halfway decent ensemble to wear to dinner in the
evenings and fek all else in there. In
this little day dream, I check myself in for a two night stay after having a
look at their room service and pampering options. The only person I intend to speak to is the
lady who will expertly and magically massage my tired and aching feet, and this
will be just to say “thank you so much for that. It was wonderful.” I will retire to bed on the first night at
approximately nine o’clock after a light evening meal, to read one of my
books. When I open my eyes the following
morning, late room service will be outside my door, and not any child of mine
demanding that the telly be turned on, his breakfast be made or his bum
wiped. I plan to enjoy a leisurely
breakfast, one that is not shared with small boys of various ages or
interrupted by a crying baby. Indeed, it
is a breakfast that will not get smeared onto my clothes. I will shower in perfect peace and
quiet. No-one will come crashing through
the door roaring, “what you doing in there, mammy?” Throwing on some clothes without having to
first wrestle them from a child will be lovely and then I might go for a nice
walk around the perfectly manicured grounds.
Or I might not. I might just make
my way into Kilkenny city for a few hours of uninterrupted shopping. By taxi of course. The only time I will be under pressure will
be in the early afternoon, anxious to get back to the hotel for my facial and
manicure. I might (ok, who am I kidding?
I will definitely) allow myself
a couple of minutes to think about my children and then, content in the
knowledge that they are being well looked after and not missing me at all,
swiftly return to my afternoon tea. Absolute bliss. The power of daydreaming. At
this point, reality usually comes crashing down. An older Screecher Creature is sneakily
standing on the leg of the baby’s trousers, pinning him to the floor so he
cannot move. The baby’s screams of
frustration and rage make his big brother break out in an evil little smile. My roars of what I won’t do to the older
fella if he doesn’t leave his little brother alone, join in the noise
levels. I just hope that social services
are not outside my door. The sharp,
almost painful, memory of the realisation that I would do great harm to, or
even kill, anyone who dares hurt this, my precious child, is still crystal
clear in my mind. That day though, it seems, I am the one who wants to kill
him! One day, I will get to my dream
haven. For the moment, however, I will
settle for Mister Husband taking the Awesome Foursome to the pool, the cinema,
the park, their grandparents’ house so I can have the place to myself for an
hour. I will brave out the child who is
the not so careful 3 year old owner of a
feked up Circadian rhythm, try to rest assured in the knowledge that he will
have grown out of it by the time he is 21.
Adding here, I am also living in hope that he will have moved out and
into a place of his own by the time he is 18.
My house on an
average day? A Screecher Creature will be walking around with one of his
daddy's fags stuck behind his ear. As long as he doesn't light up I don't care.
Another Screecher will most likely be drawing on the floor. That god awful bitch
Peppa Pig will be holding the fort on the box and I will be trying to make
sense of the whole thing. Kids rock but jayzus you'd need an extra 5 hours
tacked onto the end of your day just for yourself! Have a nice weekend.
Have it remind you its fathers day on Sunday so he ll partially live your day dream - mum s need at least a mothers day per child. . . At least ha ha
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