Stop Waiting for Friday

Isabella Hamnett - 23 Apr 18

Not so long ago – I was a girl who, when given a beautiful gift – a purse, perfume, shoes – would save them carefully in their box, waiting for exactly the right occasion to bring them out. Sometimes months down the line. I did the same with clothes that I bought myself. ‘It’s too nice to wear,’ I would mournfully declare, stroking the fabric tentatively, before shutting it longingly back into the wardrobe.

Save it for best was my mantra, and this has long been my approach to life too…

Last weekend was a solo parenting adventure known non-affectionately as ‘Jonny-away-at-a-trade-show-for-3-nights.’ I don’t like him going away. I miss him. A lot. And when it’s over a weekend it just heaps salt onto the wound.

Now, I’m going to be completely upfront here; in the past, should this event occur, I have been known to mope (slightly) and err towards being snappy (a little). On this particular occasion, said weekend fell at the end of half term. So add in an extra-ordinate amount of homework, washing and the organisation required to make ourselves presentable for Monday morning after having happily slipped headfirst into a no-alarm, pyjamas-til-lunch state of play.

I don’t know about you, but I am very much of the must achieve variety; achievements in my book being meeting work deadlines, neatly ticking off job lists and staying on top of the enormity that is housework. Since having children, it now makes no difference whether it is Monday or Saturday. Lie-ins are a distant cloudy memory, and I scrabble about working on my laptop around the clock in any location (floor, children’s bedrooms, beside the bath) surrounded by the general cacophony of children.

Jonny being away has always somehow meant that the weekend for me does not arrive at all; I enter a 7-day week, and view his distant but much anticipated return as though beneath an oversized countdown clock. Last week however, I just happened to see a saying that resonated with me:

‘Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.’ Omar Khayyam.

We are surrounded by sayings, quotes and wise words; they blanket us on Pinterest and are liberally sprinkled throughout Instagram. However, this particular one struck me and resonated.

So instead of descending into autopilot, I seized last weekend with both hands. My laptop sat forlorn as I played with Monty and Ivor; properly cross-legged on the floor surrounded by Playmobil animals with the odd Hot Wheels added to the scene for good measure. We ate around the kitchen table for every meal, creating a sense of occasion and I listened fully (as opposed to the too busy, writing shopping lists in my head, half concentrating kind of listening that is so easy to slip into). We had croissants slathered in apricot jam for breakfast, knickerbocker glories for dessert, we watched movies and scampered around the garden.

On Sunday we went out – to the park and playground where we gained muddy feet, an even muddier pushchair and pink noses.

We followed this with a local castle and museum; where I didn’t log into the WiFi, but instead jested with puppet shows, donned fancy dress and designed a coat of arms along with the children, reining in my competitive streak.

I didn’t wish the time away. I lived fully in the moment – in fact I revelled in it.

Monday school drop off came and with it a different kind of post-weekend emotion; one that I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve felt since I was a child. That of a weekend fully lived, experienced and enjoyed – in the moment. It wasn’t perfect. There was still bickering, still flashes of overtiredness and whining. But I let it pass, rather than cast the time in shadow. This Monday, I entered a week fully refreshed and ready to pick up work again; wearing for the first time a Christmas gift lipstick, a big grin… and I wasn’t waiting for Friday.

Isabella Hamnett

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