My first time

Image credit: serezniy / 123RF Stock Photo

I am about to do two things I have never done before.  This Saturday I will complete my first triathlon (short course).  I have been training for it and I feel I am ready.  I am confident I will not need an ambulance and I am actually looking forward to that competitive feeling. For ages I have wanted to get fitter and to see exactly what I am physically capable of; that is outside of the physicality of child-rearing.

Today I will prepare all my gear, check over my bike and the race route.  That is, if I ever get through the kids’ requests for attention, the wanting of different activities and demands for food!

Then, on Sunday I will leave the family home for a holiday by myself (well technically it’s me and baby Master 5 months; such is the ‘benefit’ of breastfeeding; they follow you everywhere!).  This will be my first significant time away from home in three years.

I have not trained for this and I am not ready.  I will spend today organising everything to make it easier for Mr MF and my bigger boys.  I already have the washing all done, including bed sheets.  I have some homemade meals in the freezer and childcare bags packed.  I am fussing.  I have asked myself why I am doing this when I know they will be fine.  My husband is a good, practical man and I have no doubt in his ability to care for the boys.  And yet, I have trouble with the thought of me being away from them.  This could be misinterpreted by Mr MF that I don’t trust his ability, but it’s my issue not his.

I think I am a little anxious about letting go as well as excited.  Why do I always think that something bad will happen if I’m not with my entire family all the time?  Practically I know I cannot change what may or may not happen, but mentally I cannot remove that gnawing feeling that I should stay where I belong; with my children.

I also know that a little break makes me a better person.  I know I need this.  I know I should not feel guilty about taking this trip.

It’s just that my husband is more used to going away, as he is often on work trips and as I have harped on about before gets way more time ‘off’ than me.  He knows how to pack lightly; he knows that one pair of shoes will do and he trusts that our children are safe and well with me at home.

So I can get some time off and I’m working hard to sabotage myself.  Why do mothers/women tend to do this?

I have to end this post now as Master 2 wants a cracker and Master 5 months is crying . . .

Roll on Sunday.

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