The clouds were dark and heavy with rain. There was a storm brewing as leaves were floating and dancing all around me. I walked as fast I could to get back home. There was a salty scent of rain in the air mixed with excitement, tension and nervousness as it comes with any impending storm.
The day was dreadful, dark and dreary and there was a storm brewing, but I was absolutely happy.
With my laundry plans thrown out of the window, I suddenly had 6 hours to myself. I could not go to the shops to get the ingredients for the cake now and most of my other chores were done so I had SIX hours.
I had….Did I dare say it…The F word?
The one thing most healthy adults dream, fantasise, strive for, die for, can’t live without, work their whole life for…
Did I …did I dare to say it…The F word?
The Eldorado of Adulthood, Black Beard’s Loot, The Littlest Green-est Leprechaun’s Pot of Gold, Jack’s Golden Goose….The mother of all Mother Lodes of Good Things Adult…
Woohoo! Dear Free time, I had not seen or heard from you since I had a short break up when I started College and then we had a nasty break up when I landed my first job. We then had a even nastier break up when my first child was born (The excerpt from the Break up letter below – Full letter will be published at a later time).
Dear Free time,
I am so sorry to have to say this but I have to stop seeing you…. There was so much screaming and shouting of denying or refusing, all from me, I might add. You have only been so gracious, so understanding and so kind to me. I do not deserve you. I never cherished or treasured you till it was too late. I have no choice, I’m so sorry I have to let you go, Free Time. Believe me, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done and it wasn’t you, it was me. …I could not live up to the Perfect Mother Idealhood of Multitasking in Lipstick and High Heels. I was the one with vomit on my pyjamas, my hair all uncombed, face unwashed….. I even wore my breastfeeding bra once to the shower because I was that tired and had not seen you in a while. I must have scared the neighbourhood with my perfect audition of Attack of the Zombie Mummy with my growls of having lived on toast and tea (no time for anything more gourmet), deranged eyes from sleep deprivation, smells from a poopy vomity baby and outfits that just rotated from today’s pyjamas to next day’s pyjamas…. I hope we can still stay friends as I would love to hear your updates… Love you always, Agent Spitback
SIX whole hours of FREE TIME. I was beside myself with excitement, what could a girl do with 6 hours?
There had never been so much excitement in my life since I discovered Salted Caramel.
I quickly did what I would normally do. I googled online, then hopped on Facebook and Twitter to verify. I now present the results of Agent Spitback’s random poll of what Stay At Home Mums/Dads/Adults REALLY do with their “FREE” time :
- Write a scientific study of “Why Cake is actually good for the Female Soul” to be submitted in the “International Journal of Female IlLogical Reasoning”- Agent Spitback
- Watch current or reruns of Dr Phil/Oprah/Dr Oz telling you how everything you are doing is wrong and that you should STOP now, change your life but first have a cry – 10%
- Watch Re-runs of Merlin, Dr Who, Modern Family, Absolutely Fabulous (these are real favourites) or start on Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, Downton Abbey, Orange is the New Black (real life recommendations) – 50%
- Read Trashy Woman Magazines about the possibility of Prince William having a hair transplant or that the American President is the sixteenth cousin nine times removed from Jimmy, the owner of the Pub down the road named “One Eye Too Many” – 13%
- Catching up on Candy Crush or Bejewelled – that level 57!
- Read a book and dreaming that you are 16 again, and falling in love for the first time and oh yeah, saving the world because you are lean, mean and beautiful, and did I say 16 again? – 1%
- Go On Facebook, like and comment on ALL Family and Friends’ posts because you have not had time since 2005 – 39%
- Go on Twitter and Tweet “This is my toe”; “This is my finger”, and “I want some Cake now” just because you can – 40%
- Call a friend to discuss the latest sale at the Supermarket, our way of letting that friend who has just been through a hellish patch, know that we are here for her, always, even though our conversation is about reduced beef strips – 78%
- Eat Twisties/chocolate/cake/ice cream without shame , no SHARING- best flavour ever– 69%
- Hide Twisties/chocolate/cake/ice cream without guilt- 100%
- Delicious Nap-18%
- Long hot shower with no interruptions – 25%
- Dye grey roots – 80%
- Fantasizing about having a massage- 99%
- Looking for a Pink Unicorn or Fairies – Agent Spitback
- Waiting in the Post Office – 35%
- Waiting in line at the Supermarket – 70%
- Crafting and Creating something for school related event, like sewing 2074 sequins on a costume– 99.9% because the Agent is craftily challenged.
- Do actual household chores like cooking, cleaning, laundry, errands even though this should constitute a criminal offence– 91%
“Honey, where’s my tie?” a voice hollered.
Rats, I forgot that Sean was still at home as my thoughts dissipated.
I opened the bedroom door, and there was my confounded husband, kneeling in his long black pants and unbuttoned white crisp shirt, on the floor, tossing everything aside, ripping our shared wardrobe apart, rummaging through everything as he looked for his stupid tie which was hanging right in front of him, as always. He was throwing out his shorts, his t-shirts, and underwear everywhere.
There goes my 6 hours as I looked at the mess he was creating! I then did what any self-respecting wife would do.
I grabbed his tie off the rack and I marched up towards him.
I put his tie over his neck and pulled him towards me. Sean flashed a quick smile, the same boyish dorky smile when I first met him on the steps of school. That same smile my son now had.
He then went back to rummaging through the wardrobe, muttering more irritating nonsense about how this was not the tie he was talking about. He was asking for a tie which has not been seen since the Days of Deep Purple…which I had conveniently forgotten to tell him that I had tossed into the Salvos Charity bin (The Salvation Army Charity Bin).
There was only one thing to do to stop his madness about this tie.
I knelt down and I slid my hand on his broad shoulders.
The same shoulders I cried on when I failed my University paper. The shoulders I cried on when my beloved grandfather passed away. The shoulders that carried me when one of our children was at hospital or when one of them had a falling out with a friend. The shoulders that carried me when I had a falling out with a friend, a bad day or when I felt no one understood me and the whole world was against me.
I slowly turned him round and stared straight into his brown eyes. The warm brown eyes that believed in me when no one else did. The brown eyes that cried when his mother died. The brown eyes that laughed and danced of soccer, rock guitar, Iron Maiden, Ozzy Osborne, of boyish fun when I gave him our first-born son to cradle. The same brown eyes that teared when I gave him our second born two years later, this time, blazing of that a overprotective father, of cuddles, of kisses, of dances, of walking down the aisle, of spears and arrows, of only a father would of his newborn girl.
I gently traced the lines of his mouth. The mouth that said “I do”. The mouth that said “I love you”. The mouth that said “For Always”. The mouth that said “I wish I could”. The mouth that said “I’m sorry.” The mouth that said “I’m here.”
I cradled his face in my hands. The face I woke up to every morning. The face that crinkled with laughter when I whined about my adventures. The face that cried with mine when our children were hurt. The face that loved and protected us three from the perils of the world, from the storm that was raging on now.
As I pulled him closer to me, I felt his warm lips pressed to mine. I tasted the familiar salty velvety caramelly taste that only he could evoke.
All of a sudden, we were back again on our first date. We were watching a movie supposedly in the awkward darkness but we were really watching each other. He had felt for my hand and I let him. That afternoon, we laughed, we talked, and it felt as if I had known him forever.
At my front door, he had leaned in, hesitant. I tilted my head and let him kiss me. For that brief minute, it felt like the world had stopped turning, the world had stopped living, and everyone had all melted into the background. It was just him and I, becoming one, as our love fused our souls. It felt like I had known him forever, his scent of Lynx and boyish musky sweat all mixed up, all wildly intoxicating, a smell that was wholly him.
As we kissed now, it suddenly felt like the kiss of yester-year, of before children, of a time when it was just him and I.
A time when we could talk at leisure, where we could take the time to listen to corny jokes and laugh, a time when we talked into the early hours of the morning about philosophy, music, art, books, history, or anything not related to a pee, poo or booboo, a time when we took long walks without worrying about meal times and poopy diapers, a time of spontaneous weekends without packing any diapers, of leisurely sleep ins when the sun woke us, not the screams, of having conversations without having to spell “T-O-Y” or “B-A-T-H’, of hand holding, of secret smiles you gave each other in the crowded room knowingly and you both knew it was time to leave the world behind and that you were both meant to be together, always.
The storm outside was raging as Sean now pulled me closer to him and I felt his arms enveloped round me. His strength and love totally wrapped me as I let myself fall again.
The wondrous sweet moment when you know this is the one person who loves you for who you are – the crazy ideas, the stupid jokes, the silly temper tantrums, the heart breaking cries – your soul mate.
I let myself fall in love with this person who consumed my soul, all over again.
I felt the warmth and strength in his arms, in his body, in his arms, in his hands, in his face, in his kisses, in his heart and in his soul, as I’m sure he felt mine.
I let myself fall again as his body moved against mine and it felt like the first time all over again. For that brief moment, it was just Sean and I again as we moved together in love.
As I looked at his wildly crumpled work clothes on the floor, I whispered, “Oh shit, Sean…”
“Yeah, no shit, Megs..” He whispered back and he kissed me all over again. I smiled wildly at my husband and I didn’t worry one bit at all.
After all, we had six hours. Our first six hours with no children in the house.
No doubt, this will now go to the top of Agent Spitback’s Poll on what Mums/Dads (or Adults) should do with their Free Time without the children.
No, make it five hours and thirty minutes. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bloody iron his shirt or pants again.
Not when there was that CAKE to bake.
**Thank you for your overwhelming support! Please keep sharing and help me convince my “Sean” that you are NOT just figments of my imagination. He can’t believe that people actually read my nonsense.”
When Agent Spitback tries to be serious, she becomes The Mulk at www.themulk.com.au
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