My Wonderful Week Away

Ashling McCloy - 13 Sep 13

A trip to Kansas – on her own – revitalised both Ashling McCloy and her family….

I left my kids for a week. Yes, that’s right, a whole week. I left behind the nappies, the wet wipes, even the mandatory broken bits of crayon and crusty Cheerios moulded into the corner of my bag. I was off on a trip… a quasi work trip with a dollop of fun thrown in.

Just to clarify, before you balk at my negligent behaviour, I’m not in the habit of abandoning my little lovelies. I adore my two girls; they’re blessings, angels I like to smother with kisses. But sometimes, I don’t love the early mornings, the parent-toddler groups, the piles of washing or the tantrums. Sometimes, I think that motherhood is the toughest challenge I’ve ever faced. I embrace it and fear it in equal measure. So what’s a few days away… heck, we’ve got them until they decide they don’t want us!

I’d been working on a project, researching 1960s mid-west America. I’d read the books, lingered in libraries and churned through the internet. But here’s the thing… I used to live in Kansas. I know, crazy, but I did. I have the dungarees to prove it! So one night, possibly around 2am, I had the cliché lightbulb moment. Why don’t I go back? Fly to the mid-west? As a freelance, I’m my own boss, so I was going to order me to get on that plane.

Unsurprisingly, my decision was met with shock, surprise, excitement and in some cases horror. How could I leave my children? Who would look after them? or, can I come with you? I’m not going to lie, it was tough. Guilt reared its ugly head, spewing out doubt and insecurity. Pah! They were with their dad who was himself under the watchful eye of his own mother.

Off I jetted, zooming over the Atlantic with a glass of red in one hand, my book in the other. It was exhilarating. I was revisiting a past life and it felt like teetering at the top of a roller-coaster. It was a past that seemed vibrant and free.

Making my way across the States, I sat on a Greyhound bus next to a gravelly old cowboy; in that moment I remembered who I was. I found the me who wasn’t scared, the me who could take on anything. I don’t know where she’d been but she was still there: hidden behind the angst that comes from being a parent, the sensibility and responsibility of being a grown-up.

I was welcomed in by old friends. I ate corn dogs and drank beer. I walked the halls of the university, recalling days when you fearlessly chased your dreams. I stayed up until 6am, laughing and clinking drinks. I slept!

Back home, my kids were running bare-foot on our local south London common, their bellies full of sugary treats. They were indulging in quality time with their daddy and only at bedtime did they ask after their mummy.

On my last day I woke with a butterfly-like sensation in my tummy. I was ready to see my girls. I longed to have them back in my arms. I felt refreshed and could see my role in a new light. At the airport they clung to me, both vying for my attention, babbling excitedly over one another, eager to share their adventures.

You see, while some disapproved of my jaunt away, I truly believe it revived our family. You’re always a mum; there’s no day off, no annual leave but there’s nothing like a bit of head space and let’s face it, a bit of fun. So my tip to any mum feeling jaded, overwhelmed or just plain knackered: check-in to some much needed me-time… my kids aren’t scarred or traumatised, they don’t even remember. I, however, will never forget it.

Ashling McCloy

Ashling McCloy has been a journalist for over 10 years. As well as writing for publications including Red Magazine, she is a style expert for QVC. She is mother to Gracie, 6 and Betsy, 3, and is married to Tom. They live in Balham, London. In her spare time Ashling raises funds for First Touch, the charity for the neonatal unit at St George's Hospital.

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