Hubby and I have just spent a day and night in Sydney by ourselves. OURSELVES, People!

I was apprehensive for the trip and somewhat nervous about leaving the kids but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t ridonkulously excited as well.

I’ve come to realise that a time out for everyone is a good thing. I needed to remember who I was again, to genuinely enjoy myself without the responsibility of keeping one eye on the children. Hubby and I walked through the botanical gardens without carrying, pushing or soothing someone. We looked around an art gallery, quietly. We enjoyed a few hours in a beer garden where we just sat, doing nothing and it was pure bliss.


I admit it. I didn’t really miss the kids because I knew it was only for a short amount of time AND that they were in good hands with the in-laws at home. I don’t feel guilty about acknowledging that fact – and I’m proud of that because guilt seems to have been my frenemy for too long. No, I’m actually glad I didn’t pine for them because it means I was present, in the moment and even though they are my life and heart I’m also aware they need me to be me. A mother who mothers unconditionally but also a parent that recognises their individuality away from the family unit.

I’ve come back happier and healthier and it’s been reflected in the home generally but mostly with Little Mans behaviour. I strongly believe that having a child is completely life changing and that no one really warns you about the sense of identity loss that can happen. Having the time out has renewed my patience, my energy and the simple enjoyment of parenting that seems to have been lacking.

I guess this year has been harder than I want to admit and PND only complicates matters further. I’ve felt like my sense of self all but disappeared so being reminded of it by doing something just for me has made such a remarkable difference. I feel happy. Like genuinely happy and not just a PND momentary high. K x



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