Stolen Moments On Sunday Evening

Here we are again “ holed up in the study in a few stolen minutes between other things happening. I very much doubt I’ll finish writing this before I’m called upon to tuck little people into their beds “ or failing that, at least kiss them goodnight. On the one hand, I feel like this weekend “didn’t happen”, but that wouldn’t be entirely true “ it’s just been busy. While talking to some old friends who visited for lunch, we got around to the subject of “free time” (we laughed too), and pretty much came to the same conclusion; if you want to be an active parent in a young family, you can pretty much say goodbye to any idea of an outside interest “ at least until the children are older. It’s taken me years to realise that the people I know who have a young family and a hobby of their own, persue it at the cost of something else. Even thinking it causes me to pause, because you never know somebody’s real story “ but at least based on my own experience, I don’t understand how some people have time for the things they do without it costing them time with their family or children. Perhaps I’m just a little old fashioned in my sense of how time should be spent? Take this weekend for instance; the entire day on Saturday was spent with the children “ running around the playpark, shopping in town, tidying up the house, washing up, washing clothes, playing games, telling off, and laughing at the children’s antics. Today has been spent madly tidying up (in anticipation of the arrival of our friends), then making lunch, clearing the decks after lunch, playing with the children again, tidying up the house again, having dinner together, washing up again, tidying up again, and finally sitting here typing this. It wasn’t that this weekend “didn’t happen” “ more a case of “I didn’t have much time to myself”. Even writing it makes me wonder if it’s a selfish thought to have “ to miss “me” time. I’m guessing all parents of young children go through it from time to time “ while you happily surrender time, food, money and whatever else to them, you eventually become tired. You start to wonder when you’re going to get a day off. Having a day off is another good example. I’ve got a day off work booked this week “ the day off is conditional on me busting my ass in the earlier part of the week to make it possible. Of course nobody will ask how work has gone because we never talk about it in front of the children “ mainly because they wouldn’t understand any of it. Dinner table conversations always revolve around what they did at school. I am never asked what I was doing. How on earth do you tell a small child that you were building an intranet application to assist in the creation and processing of purchase orders? I feel like I need a real day off. One that doesn’t involve the routine, the chores, or being the “me” I seem to have invented.