There’s a soft urgency in parenting.
As joyous as the days can be, there’s always something lurking beneath the surface, stimulating your sympathetic nervous system. Maybe it's a potential tantrum or a blow-out nappy at an inopportune time. Maybe it’s the precarious lunch order you risk leaving uneaten at the table thanks to a surprise meltdown over a spilt babycino. It’s all part of the ride, but it does take a toll.
For me, the past two years have brought with them a beautiful new baby boy, but also a long, uphill battle to regain some semblance of good health, thanks to two autoimmune diseases. So, like a lot of us mums out there, I’m one worn out woman.
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That’s why when my husband had finished uttering the words, "You should go away for a weekend without us", I already had three separate search tabs open on my computer comparing prices of accommodation.
But excitement wasn’t my first reaction. No, it was my good ol' friend guilt that popped up straight away to kindly explain how undeserving of this break I really was. I can’t just leave my child! Mothers don’t do that, my brain helpfully pointed out. (My brain can be a real jerk, let me tell you.)