I am what the older generation would call “old mother” – I was 33 when my son was born. People often think that getting children later in life is better, you are more mature, sick and tired of going around the bars and long for spending evenings at home. Well, sort of. In other words, you are READY. But what no one tells the wish-to-be parents is that from the moment your bundle of joy utters her first cry you will be deprived of the most everyday thing: privacy and time for yourself. Yes, undisturbed nocturnal sleep is also on the list. Ah, sleep… the whole point of my writing this post is my own one-night insomnia. This night of all nights, when my boy is safely tucked in bed by his grandmother. Go to sleep! But it’s TOO QUIET. Even the cat is not making her pointless noises she has perfected over the years. So often, being a SAHM, I long for the moments when my boy will be dispatched to his grandmother (he doesn’t go to the kindergarten, yet) and I can try to squeeze one thousand and one tasks like thorough spring cleaning whatever the season plus basement reorganization in one day. And take a stress-free shower. And read a newspaper. And do things that are far too private to mention that publicly but which every toddler mom will kill for to do alone. And what happens? The moment I kiss him goodbye I miss him, so terribly as if he were miles away. I go to his room to hug his pillow when I make his bed, breathing his sweet little boy scent. When I go out, I feel suddenly so empty-handed without the pram. I almost envy the women who sport one!
These rare times I get for myself are indeed very productive, whatever I choose to do then. But it’s oh so bittersweet.
Tomorrow I will go downtown, with my handbag hanging on my arm instead of the pram for a change. But I will look forward to Sunday, when I will hear the door lock click and a cheery little voice shout “Hallo!” (his favourite word right now). I will look forward to the day my normal life starts again.