My husband has never suffered with this condition. For him, one engagement in a month borders on a social whirlwind. When we had been together for about two weeks (and I had already started to mentally write a wedding guest list and name our future children) he mentioned casually that he didn’t like to arrange more than one night out in a week. It was almost a deal breaker. On reflection, one of the main reasons he was keen to have children at all was the ‘get out clause’ they would give him. What better excuse to turn down a night out than “we can’t get a babysitter” or “baby has been unwell”?
Added to this is the fact that I am more knackered than I have ever been in my life. No longer can a full week of ‘busy-ness’ be recovered from with a morning in bed; weekend lay-ins are for wimps according to my offspring. After five days of prising them out of bed for school like winkles from their shells, they leap out of bed on a Saturday and Sunday ready to live life to the full.
I don’t want to paint a false picture here. I genuinely enjoy (almost) all of the events that we attend but sometimes my ‘FOMO’ backfires on itself. Time seems to be shooting past since William and Scarlett arrived. Days, weeks, even months are disappearing never to be recovered. Gradually I am realising that, by filling my diary with a million things to do, I actually AM missing out. Missing out on just being with my children. No plans, no rushing around and no opening/closing times to panic about. At their age, our happiest times are making a tent out of the duvet and laying under it eating bourbons from the packet.
Therefore, I have made the decision that these more relaxed moments are the ones that I will be making sure I am not missing out on. From now on, my diary will be taking second place and I will embrace an empty weekend as an opportunity to just hang out and see how the mood takes us. We might go out, we might stay home, but we won’t be dashing from one place to the next in the fear that we will miss out on something. Because the ‘something’ we don’t want to miss out on is right here.
Is an ever growing pile of toys and games
If you can referee a fight about a felt tip
And still love both the fighters just the same
If you can function on three hours of sleeping
And still be running round the park next day
If you can cook whilst helping out with homework
And listening to all they have to say.
If you can clean a room with just some wet wipes
And understand the cleaning up will never cease
If you can bear to re-box mixed-up jigsaw puzzles
And stay up ‘til you’ve found that final piece
If you can thank them for the ‘dinner’ that they’ve made you
Even though the mess confirms your deepest fears
Or watch the lounge that you’ve just tidied cluttered
And start again to tidy without tears
If you can make a fort with toilet rolls and Pritt stick
And cope with glitter stuck to all your clothes
If you can sit through Kid’s TV without a vodka
(even if you sometimes have a little doze)
If you can keep all entertained on long car journeys
With puzzles, games and shrink wrapped healthy snacks
And stay calm even though you feel like swearing
When World War Three still kicks off in the in the back
Keeping perfectly to every word and rhyme
If you can hear the same lame joke repeated
And laugh enthusiastically each time
If you can listen to your children’s constant moaning
Without going completely ‘round the bend
Yours is the pure love unconditional
And – which is more – you’ll be a mum, my friend.
William: Will you play Clash of Clans with me?
Scarlett: Yes. Then will you dance with me?
William: Yes, afterwards. You can have this sword and I will have the bow and arrow.
Scarlett: OK. Then will you marry me?
William: OK then.