Recently I escaped family life to go on an overnight trip to Blenheim with friends. I resisted leaving a long list of instructions for my hubby knowing he is more than capable of looking after our almost two and a half year old. Besides, she's old enough to gesture towards the pantry when she's hungry and it's obviously time to change her nappy when it's dragging on the floor.
I booked a room of my own at a lodge. I was particularly looking forward to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Since we have been blessed with a non-sleeper, it feels like a life-time ago when I last got the eight hours of sleep recommended for an adult to function.
“You can tell you're a Mum” said one of my friends sitting next to me at dinner as she pointed to my empty plate, finished a good five minutes before everyone else. Little did she know that I have been a food-inhaler most of my life. I cannot blame parenthood for the way I throw food down my throat. But, she had a valid point. Our 5pm tea times are typically so focused on getting food into our toddler, that I often forget to chew.
Dining out, I relished concentrating on my meal alone instead of constantly worrying about what goes into my two year-olds mouth. Sipping a beer with my pub grub was a luxury as there is typically no place for alcohol with our early evening child-friendly meals. Adult conversation just made me feel like, well, an adult. There was no reciting and doing actions from The Wiggles, clapping whenever several mouthfuls got swallowed or counting out pieces of vegetables to get our girl to eat. It was tempting to clap when my friends finished their meals, but I managed to restrain myself.
When I first got back to my room at the lodge after dinner, I wondered what I might do for the rest of the evening. Long shower? Watch TV from bed? Read a trashy woman's mag?
In an effort to pack in as much as I could in my night away, I ended up doing all of the above.
Lights out at 11pm, I looked forward to eight hours of uninterrupted, blissful sleep.
I woke up cold at 3am and thoughts started up about my daughter being awake and my husband struggling to get her back to sleep back in Nelson. Eventually I coaxed the thoughts out of my brain, and I drifted off to sleep again.
When I awoke just a few hours later at 6am, I switched on the electric blanket and desperately tried to will myself back to sleep.
At 7.30am, I awoke somewhat disappointed that I didn't sleep like a log. Clearly I have lost the ability to sleep through the night.
Twenty-six and a half hours later I returned home. By then I was missing my girl and anticipated a joyful reunion. When I walked through the door she gave me a token glance and then carried on playing blocks with her daddy. Seems I wasn't as missed as I thought I would be. Fine by me, as I'm already planning my next night away.
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