Time Out

I've loved having my kids off these holidays.  Normally, with only 10 days to go, I've lost it a bit, and anticipating this happening again, I said to the Husband that I wouldn't mind a couple of hours on my own this weekend, just to give me a little bit more juice to keep the energy and tolerance levels up a smidge more.  At 7.30 tonight, I realised I'd forgotten to get my time out, so took myself off to the beach for a little "me" time hoping like hell, the dishwasher would be emptied (it wasn't), the crap picked up off the floor (nope) and boys would be happily in bed (none of them were although two were in their pj's) so I could sit and watch something mindless on TV (which was futile considering there is both tennis and cricket on tonight) once I got home.

Do you find yourself going a little crazy, a little more snippy sometimes, a little ummm, what's the right word...bored with picking up wet towels off the floor, cutting up watermelon by week 5 of the 7 week holidays.  I love my kids being home, love it, love making not making lunches, love reading in bed, love not having to do the normal after school madness, love the holidays but I always feel a little vacant by now, like I'm a vessel.  And during times like this, the internal dialogue that seems to be with me during my waking hours, quietens, to the point where now, it's almost silent.  And even though I've had a full schedule of stories on during the holidays, I've needed a break from that voice that fills me with ideas and ramblings.  Sometimes it can be a little earnest and well meaning, and sometimes I just need to not have to listen to it so I get a little break from myself.

So tonight I'm sitting at the beach in a gentle drizzle, eating a bag of teeth lollies, watching the last of the surfers in the water, and I'm feeling all peaceful and chilled.  Or at least I was until the sealice that I got on my ocean swim yesterday that are covering a part of my anatomy that rhymes with jubes and doesn't begin with "p" started itching the bejesus out of me (and it's not cool wildly itching that part of your body in public), I hear the voices start back up, a couple of ideas, a flicker of a thought.  Then I get it.  Sometimes I just need to be alone.  Not running, not hanging out washing, not doing groceries, but just alone in my head, by myself.  It's where my thoughts are interesting and I get all analytical and thoughtful.  When i'm not alone, they don't come, and then I'm the lunch maker, the towel hanger-upper and my thoughts retreat until I'm back in my silent house, just me on my own.

I often say to The Husband that he only gets the dregs of me by the time he gets home and that if he was home at 2pm on a weekday when I'm writing, he'd find an infinitely more interesting person than the one with the furrowed brow who meets him at 7.30pm each night.  Well that 2pm me isn't even home at the moment, but it only takes half an hour on my own to know she's not far away and I'm ready for her to be back.

Do you like being on your own too?

These were gone 2 minutes after I took this photo