‘I actually want the house to myself for at least four days’

Today was the weekend. It went something like this: I woke up because Nora (1) was chattering through the baby monitor something that was somewhere between a cold walrus that lost its mother and the air raid siren test on the first Monday of the month. It was hard and although Nora knows only the words ice cream and horse besides Mum and Dad, it was clear that she wanted to get out of bed. And when Nora is out of bed, it usually doesn’t take long before Casper (3) wants to – or vice versa – which means that today the incessant stream of sound started that only ends when they both turn their eyes in the evening.

Completely normal

And, don’t get me wrong, this is of course a perfectly normal situation because I have perfectly normal children and they just like to make a lot of noise and expect someone to be available all day to meet their requirements and wishes. The basic things then, not that I want to raise a prince and princess. But you can also fill the day nicely with those basic things. Food and drink that first has to be cut into pieces and practical cups and then scrubbed off the floor and wall, clean diapers, brats, angry or sad tears that have to be dried, pressing questions that immediately scream for an answer.

For example, Casper is currently fascinated by the question ‘why do monkeys have no wings’. Nora, on the other hand, has the not so everyday problem that she has two hundred kilos of toys but according to herself can only enjoy herself with eating blue clay, so that is also a project that keeps me busy on a daily basis. But what I’m saying: perfectly normal demands of perfectly normal kids, so I’m not complaining about it, but our house just isn’t quiet for a second. Not one. And so sometimes I get a little touchy when two-part crying makes my ears explode, my husband – of the tidier kind than I – looks in disdain at things that seem innocent to me but in his eyes should have been tidied up by now, always there a child is hanging by my leg and I just don’t want anyone to call on me.

Extroverted introvert

I’ve always had it. When there used to be no girlfriend to play with, I loved retreating to my loft bed with a book. And actually I loved that at a certain point when that girlfriend was there. After a few hours of playing she was usually allowed to return home. I still have. I am an extroverted introvert, I think: I love people and socializing, just as fond of silence. Not that I have the ambition to become a crazy hermit, but I just like being alone sometimes.

But the latter doesn’t happen that often anymore. My husband and I have arranged so that he is more at home with the children than I am and with the help of Grandma we no longer need childcare. That is nice, both for ourselves and the peace in our family, but it means that the children are always at home, an hour to the playground, supermarket or grandpa and grandma excepted. There used to be days when I worked from home and took Casper to daycare in the morning. The heavy feeling I had when I got home (Casper never really liked being taken away and I’m such a sucker who felt a lot of guilt about that) disappeared after my first latte at the kitchen table in an empty and pleasantly quiet house. Man oh man, what a luxury.

Me-time need

Let me include a disclaimer: of course I would never want to miss my family. My kids were more than wanted and if I had known all this in advance, I would have just done it again without a second doubt. That is not the problem. It is more that on a daily basis everyone needs something to stop working, I think. An hour of sports until death almost follows, a daily bottle of wine, an extra round in the car through the neighborhood before the key in the front door goes, every week the children stay out to visit grandma – the variations in the me-time- needs in my area are diverse and numerous.

Silence

So in my case it is silence. Silence in which I really do not sit apathetically on the couch in front of me, but just silence to be able to hear myself think, to not have to react to anything and also to do work things that I normally do not get around to . Come up with new books that I still want to write, study the trends in online content, and even get rid of overdue administration. (Isn’t that me-time? Surely not, but I find it quite relaxing and it really makes me feel better when it’s off my list.)

Of course my children sometimes go out to stay and that is nice, but actually I just want the house to myself for at least four days. Everyone – kids, man – get lost. Only the dog can stay if it shuts up. I don’t want to have to do anything and I want to be in charge of the remote.

Not only

I’m not alone, I know. My husband has it too and loves that I go away once or twice a year for a weekend with friends plus children. Then he has the man cave to himself and, as far as I know, doesn’t do a fagot. Endless reading of the newspaper, falling asleep in the sun on a lounger, that is work. He’s right, he normally does everything in-house.

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‘There is no better sound’

My friend Linda has it too. She quit her well-paid job to spend more time with her family and does not regret it, but from time to time she locks herself in the basement to escape the noise of three children. “Every Saturday I drive to my study, an hour and a half away. Only in the week before an exam do I take the train and use that time to study, all other times I go by car. Sometimes I turn on music, more often I just drive in silence. There is no better sound than when you spend the rest of the week from six in the morning until nine in the evening – my youngest is up early, my oldest does not sleep so early – in the children’s chatter, screaming and crying. Sometimes the noise and the constant appeal fly to me and when my husband comes home I lock myself up in the basement for half an hour. He finds that strange, but he accepts it.

Recently I suggested that he would go to his parents with the kids for a few days, but then he looked at me like I was crazy. Then he said that I could go away for the weekend if I wanted so much rest. But I don’t want that. I just want the house to myself for a weekend. Get up at what time I want, have breakfast at my own kitchen table with a magazine, not a man who cannot sit still for two seconds and therefore wants to go bootcamp together at half past eight. And who also does not get nervous if the breakfast food or the laundry just remains – something that unfortunately bothered my husband quite a bit. Watching netflix all day in my bathrobe on the couch and eating something in the evening that the rest of the family thinks is dirty. Sounds delicious. Not going to happen for the time being. ”

The heaven

It happened recently for me. For the first time in a long time, the house was for me and for me alone, longer than the hour and a half it takes to do the shopping. Husband was away for a weekend, the children were outsourced to grandpa and grandma because I had to work during the day. When I got home in the evening there was no one there and I would not pick up the children until late afternoon the following day. Sounds stupid, but I was really looking forward to this.

It was weird. As I drove over the dyke towards my house, I had visions of how I would drive into the water and not be missed until the next morning at the earliest. At night I was startled by every sound, to realize that it was not necessary because the children were not there, and then to be left in wonder and light stress about where those sounds came from. But in the morning it was heaven.

Wake up to birds instead of a baby monitor chirping ‘mamaaaaaaaa’, go for a run without a pouting toddler by my leg (‘Don’t go, mama’), fix a breakfast in three minutes instead of feeding the whole family of fruit Provide sliced ​​portions, leave things lying around because: no comment anyway, lying on the couch working out two ideas for books, home and away to the Hema in less than twenty minutes and handling some phone calls that I should have made much earlier. At the end of the day, I had checked so many that I zenner was then when I had spent all this time at, I name it, some beauty farm.

Get out

But yes, I have to admit that, at the end of the afternoon I got a bit fussy. Because messing with the dog all day long becomes pathetic at some point. Being alone for a while is wonderful, but I also remembered why I’m glad my life doesn’t look like this anymore. It’s nice to be off, but only when you know it’s going to end. And doing the administration all day is of course also boring. Pretty fast, by the way.

This article has previously appeared in Kek Mama.

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