When the husband’s away…

Site Default - 23 Feb 17

In the days when my boys were toddlers I used to hate my other half going away on a work trip. I felt like clinging to his shirt as he made his way out the door. I felt like screaming ‘Don’t leave me with these horrors! How could you do this to me?!’ (I didn’t go this far, but there were moments when I almost did.) At that early stage of motherhood everything was all over the place; I felt totally out of control, anxious and unable to go it alone. I dreaded every work trip he went on.

Now our boys are almost five and seven those ‘Don’t go!’ days have thankfully gone and I can cope with whatever our two terrors throw at me (think Lego bricks, chunks of Silly Putty and home-cooked macaroni cheese that my mini diners like to flick in my face when it’s not exactly to their taste). I no longer need my partner to step in and help when things go wrong or when I lose the plot. Plus I take comfort from the fact that the fridge, full of vino, is waiting in the wings, ready to get me through any tantrum.

So, with my other half away this week, I’m finding my alone time a breeze. I’m actually loving it, for the following reasons:

I get to eat avocado on toast or peanut butter sandwiches for supper – or, failing that, finish off the kids’ leftovers – because why waste time cooking a whole meal just for me?

I get to sit on the sofa and watch everything my husband hates – weird documentaries about serial killers, trashy dating shows and anything featuring the likes of Kim Kardashian.

I get to have the whole bed to myself. Heaven…

I get to finish off a bar of Green & Black’s without my partner wondering where his bit went.

I get to not tidy up all the toys, empty crisp packets and general crap left behind by two little mites because my husband isn’t around to trip over them.

I get to stay in the shower for longer than two minutes in the morning because there’s nobody waiting in the queue.

I get to wear whatever I like in bed because my partner’s not there to protest in horror (think not-so-sexy bright pink tracksuit bottoms and threadbare tops).

I get to steal my husband’s socks (the one thing that annoys him most) because by the time he gets back I’ll have worn and washed them and they’ll be back in his drawer.

I get to go on my iPad for as long as I like without a voice in my ear saying, ‘How long have you been on that thing?’.

I get an extra ten-minute lie-in because I let the boys watch TV in the morning (my husband doesn’t).

I get to leave the bed unmade – with a weeks’ worth of clothes thrown all over it – because I’m the only one who has to look at the mess.

I get to have another glass of wine in the evening because it would be a shame not to polish off my partner’s share.

No, it’s not at all bad when my husband’s off and I’m in sole charge of the kids. In fact, it’s rather good. And the time spent apart makes me appreciate him a bit more when he gets back (no nagging for at least two weeks).

Let’s just hope that when he returns this time round, he fails to notice a gaping hole in his brand new pair of socks…

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Fiona Pennell lives in the Cotswolds with her husband and their two boys, Jack, 6, and Otto, 4. A former YOU magazine sub-editor, Fiona now spends her days being trampled on, going on slug hunts and dreaming of lie-ins. (Twitter: @fiona_pennell)

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