Just Me, Myself and I

(this could get unexpectedly soppy towards the end, be warned)
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Me, myself and Piccadilly

I have taken a leap of faith and travelled to London all by myself. I was looking forward to this trip for a while now, but when it got really close, I got scared. A good thing that flights and hotel was booked, so I couldn’t pull out! The week so far at home, without the father of the children (aka my husband, aka TMD) who has buggered off to Denmark (see last post), was bloody exhausting. First Mimi #2 got a fever, then she got better and Mimi #1 followed suit. As always. As soon as autumn has made a proper appearance the whole sickness-trade is back in business big time. And let me assure you that Mimi #1 is not of the quietly suffering Kind when she is ill. She wants to be really close to you physically, and exclusively, which is quite a problem if you’re only one parent for two kids. Hence a lot of wailing.

Yes, I am already missing my children. But.

Which makes me wonder how it is possible that whenever your children are with you, they annoy the crap out of you, but as soon as you’re without them, you miss them so much? It’s not just missing in a general sense, it is an almost physical pain, proper withdrawal syndroms. It must be -as ever- the hormones. (that’s just my theory, no scientific research behind this!!)
I took holidays this week, since I knew it would be too stressful if I’m on my own with the girls and working my usual shift. A wise decision initially. Unfortunately, as always, there was some stuff at work which absolutely had to be done this week. Fortunately, as always, my family supported and we had both Grandmas over helping out. But still, being the one responsible parent 24/7 is exhausting, especially when children are sick. I find myself even more in awe of single parents (or those mothers with a permanently absent husband). They are the true heroes in this parenting game!

And now I’m off

 

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Trafalgar Square by night – btw. I really need a new phone…

 

So I too have now buggered off for two days, to London. And still I am fighting hard to keep my bad conscience at bay. Because, as my Mum (thanks Mum, for looking after the Mimis, yet again!!) wisely put it, you don’t help anybody with a bad conscience, you just make yourself miserable. I really envy my husband, or any parent actually who is able to just leave the kids at home in good (!!!) care, and though missing them, not make themselves feel bad about it. Because even though I call myself emancipated, and proud working Mum etc., I constantly feel pulled between the different needs. The needs of my children, the needs of the job, the husband and last but not least, myself. And that’s just the honest, ugly truth, sorry. Super-working Mum has just died a sudden death.

The guilt issue

 

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Nope, for a change this isn’t about guilt in relation with chocolate, though it is a very familiar subject too.

 

 I am now, for the second time in 2 years going away on my own for two nights. There’s no reason for that other than wanting to see an exhibition at the Tate Modern. And probably, in a dark corner of my mind I suspected that after one week of single-parent-experience I would need a break. And so I do. Since my husband always is the very first person encouraging me to go and do something for myself I just booked. He’s honestly great like that (also in those instances when it means that he has to look after the kids). Greater than I could have ever imagined. I do not recall one single occasion when he gave me the feeling that, really, I should be staying at home. And since I do always, always have a guilt problem (also known as the killer question: “am I spending enough time with the kids”), this probably just about saves me, as in ME. Because if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably not even remotely know myself anymore. Because I would never actually permit myself to not be with my children when I’m not working.

I wonder if it just me

Such is the pressure I give myself, and which probably, but not only, is put upon mothers from society. And for me it takes active willpower and encouragement to at least try to free myself from this pressure. If it wasn’t for this encouragement, one day I would probably just about not know my name anymore, since I hadn’t been able to do things I used to love and actually still love but forgot about. See, the great thing is, TMD has known me for a while before the Mimis (the so-called pre-Mimi-era) and he probably fell in love with that person first of all. So he wants to be with that person, not only with the actual Twomimimom I am now most of the time. And that’s the thing I am most thankful for, since even when I am in danger of losing myself, there’s somebody right next to me who reminds me of who I am. Thank you TMD. And for f… sake stop crashing your planes into the danish vegetation!!!!!

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