Sunday 10 February 2013

This too shall pass (I hope)

The terrible twos graphic featuring a giraffe
As it's that time on a Sunday evening when the looming spectre of Monday morning is only held off by the hope of a good night's sleep I have been pondering. I left school over twenty years ago and I left my job over a year ago so why would Monday hold any dread for me ?

Other than the logistics of getting the boy to nursery and ensuring I'm home to receive a delivery at almost the same time it's hardly the most trying of starts to the week. I also do my radio show on a Monday so apart from a little bit of a panic about my guest finding the studio I tend to look forward to it. By the time I pick up the boy from nursery and then Hubbie from the station we've all got stories to share about our day.

So why is it that by the time Hubbie is home - having commuted for a few hours and suffered a full working day - I hide in the kitchen with a cuppa and Radio 4 and let him deal with the boy ? After all I don't have colleagues to drive me crazy, or the travel delays to wind me up or even a toddler at home on certain days ?

Well my theory is that it is precisely because I don't have colleagues or a commute or delays that I have lost all sense of perspective. My day is punctuated with breaks for hot drinks and planning my needs around my son's. I no longer have a role at work or a salary to spend or even adult company to discuss office politics with. All those necessary components to keep my sanity and identity intact.

Later in the week I mostly escape to the kitchen at 6.30pm because it's been one of those days - again. The ones where I have bruises from being kicked changing nappies, a headache from being head butted in the chin, a ringing in my ears from being slapped across the side of the face and backache from wrestling to get the boy to sit in his car seat. To top it all off I usually also have a sore throat from saying "Stop !" and "No !" so often.

Try as I might not to I do mutter swear words under my breath or in the next room, but his supersonic hearing will catch me out eventually and he will cause a sharp intake of breath at a bus stop or in front of his grandparents one day and I will have to hide from them too.

So the phrase 'this too shall pass' is my mantra to get me through my son's terrible twos and my muddled middle age.

In the meantime any tips would be much appreciated.

1 comment:

  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.