I got home from walking the dogs this morning and did something extraordinary – I baked a cake. Yes. A cake. First thing this morning, because I saw a recipe on the net and decided I had the time. Yes, the time.
As I folded the chocolate chips into the batter, it occurred to me what I was doing. I stopped for a moment; truly stopped and considered what I was doing. Was I on a hormonal high? Had I hit my head unwittingly during my walk? Why exactly was I making this cake apart from the fact I could? Was it asked for? No, there was no reason apart from the fact I felt like it. It was easy to do.
Would I have considered doing this last year? Hell no. It wouldn’t have even entered my mind. Everything last year – especially towards the end of last year – was an effort. Being a wife, mother and me was an effort. A real effort. Some days I would roll over and go, ‘Christ, another day, really?’. It felt so mundane. It was horrible. I know it was a choice and I did my best but I was tired of being a mother – I say that because I can and it’s allowed. I am human and no one suffered in the making of this story. Well, maybe a little – but I swear it was for their own good.
Yes, I can hear the gasp and that’s okay. I have learnt to walk the walk and talk the talk. I’m okay if my honesty offends you. Truly. So I will now contradict myself as I feel the need to explain, not only because it’s part of the story, but because I don’t want you to judge me without knowing the whole story.