Week 3: Two Minutes Peace...

Croissants and Crosswords
This time last year I was enjoying my Sunday morning eating a croissant at 11 o’clock in the morning, inhaling cappuccinos and reading the travel section of the paper in my pyjamas. This year it is Sunday morning at 11am and I am ready to lie down in a darkened room, with a cold compress on my forehead, and a G&T in my hand; unfortunately, I also know that I won’t get the break I need until sometime after 10 pm once my lovely little one is asleep for at least a little while. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change her for anything, but I would give my left pinky for two minutes to just sit down. When she was born and sleeping all the time I thought I was the perfect parent – everyone had told me I would be so rushed off my feet with no time to myself but obviously I was doing something right because she was the perfect cherub. Smug. Now that she is teething and won’t be put down, I see what they all meant! So here is my two minute wish list… If I had a terrific two minute break, what would I do with it?

Have a cuppa
I would make a cup of tea. And then drink it. While it is still warm! I have forgotten what warm tea tastes like.

Tidy the House
I know this sounds like it comes from The Good Housewife Manual Circa 1956, but, having a two minute blitz, throwing baby related junk into the cupboard and chucking dishes into the sink rather than littering the surfaces of every room in the house, actually makes me feel a real sense of pride and achievement. Perhaps I could even warm the husbands slippers while I am at it…

Flex My Brain
I’d pick up a crossword or a Sudoku or find a game on line that gives me a chance to think about something. Think really hard. OK, fair enough, I probably won’t get anywhere with it, but just getting the old brain technology whirring feels good. But it does just reinforce the fact that my baby has stolen my brain.

Run up and down the stairs a few times
No. Seriously. I mean it… Get the blood flowing, get the muscles working, get out of breath and work up a bit of a sweat. We house bound, baby bouncing mammas and poppas forget to look after ourselves and, for me, this much exercise would feel akin to conquering Everest.

Pretend it’s a Sunday Morning
So I’ve tried and tested this one… I can heat, plate and eat a croissant, whilst reading the travel section and pouring a cappuccino down my throat in two minutes before the baby tells me she wants me to pick her up again; she is reminding me that those days are gone, and while I might think I can recreate it, she is in charge now!
The Mummatron

Two Minutes...
Once upon a time, when I was a young mother, if I had been guaranteed two minutes peace and quiet all for myself what would I have done?

Improve my mind by reading an obscure Russian novel by an obscure Russian author? Probably not

Sling on a leotard, pop in the videotape, then leap about in a futile impersonation of Jane Fonda doing aerobics (how come SHE doesn’t grunt like I do?) Probably not.

Plaster on a face pack, ready to scare the beejeezus out of my children when they woke up? Probably not.

Eat a whole bar of chocolate the size of a small car and wash it down with a glass of wine? Possibly.

Eat the family size pork pie which has been calling out to me, in tantalizing, if somewhat greasy, tones, from the fridge all week? Almost definitely.

Whilst munching I would have shut my eyes against the chaos around me – how did that toy get up onto the ceiling light? Is that potty in the corner full? What is that nasty looking thing poking out from behind the settee….?

But, these days two minutes doesn’t seem nearly so long, it would take me almost all that time to get up the stairs to spend my two minutes gazing at my delicious granddaughter peacefully sleeping.

Granny Bloggings