Tempus Fugit

I’m sure there used to be more time in each day.

After wrestling the children to sleep, cooking dinner and eating it, there seems to be just enough time to put a load of washing on, load the dishwasher and tidy up the toys before bed. Sometimes I lie in bed, mentally listing all the hobbies I’d like to have time for. I remember how I used to do a yoga class on a Saturday morning, have breakfast in bed with the Sunday papers and spend long, lazy hours reading books. In the summer, I used to paint my toenails to coordinate with my outfit.

A few weeks ago the kids went to stay with their grandparents for two nights so we could prepare for Squeak’s birthday party. Stanchion and I couldn’t believe how much we could get done in just one day. We had time to tidy, clean and decorate the house, make food for guests and cut my To Do list in half. Life would be much less hectic if we didn’t have kids. And quieter. And just generally easier…

But instead of breathing deeply through downward facing dog, I spend my Saturday mornings splashing about in a swimming pool with Squeak and watching Quibble gain the confidence to jump in on his own. The last newspaper in our house was used to protect the table while Quibble stuck glitter onto his dinosaur picture. And I do still spend hours reading, it’s just that the books are bigger, with fewer words and more pictures.

If I’m honest, I love it. I wish I could pause it sometimes and have a little time out, but this won’t last long and I don’t want to waste it. Every year Quibble and Squeak will need me a little bit less as they grow that bit more self-sufficient and I will get time for hobbies again, slowly but surely. When look back on this summer, I know I won’t remember what colour my toenails were (or care that they weren’t even painted). But I hope I’ll remember how Squeak learnt to say ‘Mama’, how Quibble learnt the letters in his name and how much my kids made me smile.