Breathing on my own.

When I took the kids back to my folk's place in the new year,

my parents were very keen to have the children visit by themselves.

Yes, all three, easily bored, demanding and hyperactive children visit by themselves.

There was a suggestion of me flying over, leaving them for a week and flying back home 

but I recognise the limitations of both the grandparents and the grandchildren

and felt that it was in the best interests of healthy relationships for all concerned

if I wasn't that far away and if I wasn't gone that long.

So I took myself off to Hobart for two days.

Two days.

All to myself.

No kids.

No commitments.

Not even a hubby to please.

And oh, it was soooooo good.

Being a mother,

I feel a certain obligation to announce that I miss my children.
Do you know what I mean?

But in the short term it really is a general absence makes the heart  grow fonder kind of thing.

Apart from being displaced at knowing that I couldn't actually get back to them,

did I spend two days wondering what they were doing at any given moment,

keen to get back to them

or wishing that I was there to tuck them in?

In all honesty, I didn't.

I have to be honest and admit that, 

...while I love my kids more than anything on this earth,

while I will defend and protect my children ferociously ,

while I would die to save them,
the whole mother's pledge of honour...

 I sort of thrive when I am apart from them.

I spent 2 completely self-absorbed days.

I shopped.

I wandered.

I sat in cafes and knitted and watched people.

I sat in my undies in the heat in my hotel room

sitting up late watching movies and drinking iced coffee for dinner.

I wrote blogs posts in my head and started sketching.

I read.

My world, standing on busy city streets, was suddenly a quieter place

without demands of life and family

and it cleared my head.

I swear that I could almost feel my creativitiy returning.

Something else happened that I wasn't expecting.
I felt really nostalgic about my childhood.

I spent of lot of time in Hobart as a young child

as my working parents sent my brother and I off to nan and pop's for the holidays.

My nan is gone now,

 my pop is drifting away

and it is dozens of years and two houses ago since they lived in this city.

But I remember how much I loved it then

and still love it.

It has history. 

Beauty. 

And, for me, many memories.

We used to ride the ferries when they were working boats

but now the couple left are taken out as tourist attractions

We'd stroll around Salamanca Market,

which is still big...in size, quality and personality.

We used to wander around the docks after the Sydney to Hobart yachts arrived,

though back then it took a lot longer for the boats to get to the finish line.

These are the strong memories,
so many others faded and gone
now that I can no longer have a conversation with my nan and pop
and have them remind me of some experience we shared that I have forgotten.

All memories of times not shared with my mum or dad
which seems fitting in the context of this post.

I guess I have a guilt thing happening

that I can actually be away from my offspring and be doing a happy dance.

I feel like it is not what I am meant to feel.
I imagine it is similar to what some women feel when, for whatever reason,
they had a C section or bottle-fed their baby.

But my kids are with me in my heart and mind

and I wouldn't have it any other way.

It would seem that I am just a person who needs to breath on my own for a while.