MOTHER GUILT? NADA. ZIP. ZILCH

Hair iron

My recent decision to leave my family to their own devices for a fortnight and travel overseas raised more concerns from others, than myself.

“How can you do that?” one acquaintance asked… “Won’t you worry?”

 width=So of course I started to worry about why I wasn’t worried.

This was not a foreign thing for me to do. I have travelled regularly by myself on many occasions. The difference being, in the past I would stress out and rush around, preparing schedules and meals, making sure that all the washing was done and everyone had enough socks and undies to survive my absence. But the thing was, I was not sure if anyone in my family even noticed the effort that I went to. And I was not sure whether it even mattered.

So this time, I just packed my bag, kissed some faces goodbye and jumped in the cab.

I did this knowing full well that there was only one tin of cat food left, and no toilet paper.

In that taxi ride to the airport, I quickly worked out why I was not concerned about my family’s welfare. It was because they would survive without me. I knew it and they were about to find out.

The texts started coming to me while I sipped on a flute of pre-flight champagne.

“Where is Harry’s mouth guard for Rugby?”

“What day is the kids news day? What do they have to do for news?”

I flicked off my phone. It felt great. I had said my goodbyes and I was looking forward, not backwards. I knew that they would be OK and could figure it all out for themselves. This, coming from years and years of me literally and figuratively spoon-feeding my family so much that there was now a sense of expectation “Your mother will fix it…” “Have you seen my tennis racquet?” And the ever annoying “Can you grab me some toilet paper….”

Boys, welcome to the world of sorting out the toilet paper situation before you take a seat.

While I was travelling, I took great joy in the small things. Like eating when I was hungry, and not hearing those dreaded words… “What’s for Dinner?” Quite often I would wake up, go to get up and realise I didn’t have to. I would reach for my book and settle back under the covers for a while, perhaps dozing back off, if I so desired. I took a break from my work commitments and did not feel guilty. I was uncontactable by phone. UNCONTACTABLE! No contact. None.

  Page 1 of 2  next >>

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on google
Google+
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on linkedin
LinkedIn