Solitaire – Learning to be by yourself

I turn the key in the lock and let myself back into the house. It feels eerily quiet. On the table is a half-eaten Weetabix cementing itself to the bowl with steely determination. Spatters of milk surround the place setting and on the chair pulled away from the table is slung a hat that I eventually gave up on trying to enforce in exchange for hood-pulled-up on the walk to school. In the winter gloom, with the light still switched off, all the bright neon colours of pens and games and clothes look washed out, as if I am looking at them through tinted windows.

The clock reads two minutes to nine and the day stretches out before me. Six hours of uninterrupted time I have all to myself before I return to the school gates and collect my charge. I pour what is left of the cold coffee into my cup and sit down amid the milk splatters.  What do I do now?

Of course there is the obvious to do list of household chores and errands.  And if this were a different day I would be racing towards a work deadline and six hours would not seem like enough.

Culture vultures (Nursery Whines)

But just after a few weeks of school holidays have come to an end, I suddenly feel bereft.  The incentive of planning entertainment and activities; of having to take on aliases in games I was unsure what direction we’re heading; of feeling obliged to provide adequate sustenance; has been lifted and I am free. And now I am beginning to wonder if it was really the burden I complained it was.  My director has exited and I am left frozen in the centre of an empty stage waiting for my cue.

I reach for my phone and there may be a few messages to reply to or a bit of admin to do. But then I just get lost in a void of scrolling through other people doing something with their time. Or taking pictures of it, at least. And I am left feeling hollow. I must cut the chord.

Peace and quiet is precious when you are a parent (Nursery Whines)

And so I have had to relearn how to be by myself again.  All those times I have longed to sit and read a whole chapter of my book without a call for assistance.  To listen to music and just sing along with out having to explain who The Spice Girls are or change Joni Mitchell to something Disney. To do the crossword or paint my toenails, have a long soak in the bath or just sit upon my porcelain throne as long as I like.

“If you’re feeling lonely while I am at school Mummy, why don’t you go jogging? You might have some new friends.”

I do don some leggings and go for a run around the park. I can’t help grinning as I move at my own speed, plugged into the sound of Freddie Mercury warbling “Don’t stop me now” as I accelerate into a corner and quickly resist the urge to do a little head-bang behind a tree.

I go to yoga. I sort my underwear drawer. I meditate. I go to the cinema and cry on my own in the dark. I browse shops and try on clothes I have no intention of buying.  I do my tax return. I eat brunch in a cafe and read a book. I dust cobwebs that are more than likely a year old. And other cobwebs that have been building up for more than four years and hidden behind them I find who I was.

What I get up to when you’re not around…. (Nursery Whines)

I am all alone but I am by no means lonely. I am being by myself. I am being.

And when I walk home in the afternoon hand-in-hand with my companion I ask what happened at school today and get a stupid answer back. So I tell her all the things that I did instead. With my day.

What do you like to do with your free time when your kids aren’t around?