It occurred to me today that I seem to be harbouring a somewhat psychotic desire for time out. I worked that the only time I’ve had more than an hour away from the kids in the last few years is either while unconscious or while in labour, just when I finally relax somebody hands me a kid. Ge’ez… ah only kidding… really I am.
Now I mentioned this to the husband recently. I asked him if he ever felt the need to get away from the house. An absolutely loaded question, but you see I was setting the scene for me to ask/demand/beg for some time out. This is because I know he isn’t going to say no, as he does get time out be it for work (which some may say isn’t time out, yeah right it isn’t!) or when he goes shooting and whatever. He gets to go to these things without children and have adult conversations. That is one of the big things I miss about working, the phrase “have you got a poopy bottom” doesn’t have to enter my vernacular for a day. Anyway he says and I quote “I don’t know about you but I enjoy spending time with all these little people”, and gives me a look that said “I know where this is going, let’s just hope that statement puts breaks on the train wreck conversation I know is to follow”. Sorry that train has left the station a long time ago.
While I agree with him, yeah sure I love the kids lot’s and lot’s and whatever. I tried to impress upon him how my efforts to have some time alone, have been thwarted each time I organise something. Usually by him, but I didn’t mention that. I am starting to feel like I have not been able to have any time to recover from injuries, giving birth, having surgery and running our children around for their appointments, and this is just the last three months!
He doesn’t get it. I’m going to have resort to desperate measures I think. Going to have to run away, just for a day, somewhere expensive.
The problem I have is the more time goes on that I don’t get a moment alone the more angry I get about it, and this in itself cannot be a good thing. I am getting a tad resentful. This has to be rectified and soon, not sure how though. It doesn’t help that this tin pot town of ours has nothing in it to do, nor does anywhere for a few hours drive around it, and I am not a gun nut. I actually had an opportunity to have some time to myself last Sunday (which husband soon fucked up by being late home as usual) but what was the point, the only place I could go was the supermarket. *sigh*
I can’t even get one leg shaved without someone wandering in or hearing the sounds of something breaking somewhere in the house. I have a cold right now, and am feeling a bit woe is me, so I needed to have a poor me rant. I want someone to make me soup and bring fresh tissues.
Must enter into more ‘discussions’ with the Husband about this when not snotty and feverish. So if this entry makes no sense, it’s because I am slightly stoned on cold tablets.