Mum on the run - the great escape

The excitement in our house was palpable. We needed baby formula and fast. My other half and I simultaneously lunged for our car keys like cowboys drawing pistols at dawn. ‘I’ll go’ was hastily shouted by both. I won by a whisker. I was nearest the door and I’d done my stint - weeks of never going anywhere on my own - and I was going for the formula if it killed me.

I’d waited for this moment of alone time for weeks. Ten to be precise. I had sick on my t-shirt and no makeup on, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Never before had I ventured outdoors looking quite this dishevelled. But I was on a mission to have a minimum of 30 minutes’ freedom and I couldn’t give two shits about what I looked like.

I hastily made my exit, yelling child-related instructions that even Gina Ford would fail to implement, as I pegged it through the front door to my car.

I decided to drive to the next town in a bid to make the most of my hall pass. I parked immediately in the first available spot. I did not care that I could just about squeeze out of my door, or that the other three doors were inaccessible, as I did not need to extract two small beings, a pram, six bags, a teddy bear and a coat. It was just me.

Rush, I did not. Never had the aisle offering homewares - tea towels, wicker storage boxes and the like - been so appealing. As I meandered down the aisles I congratulated myself as I came up with twenty different uses for the Tupperware on offer. Every now and then I’d get a niggly feeling I’d forgotten something then realised that, for once, I didn’t need to remember where I’d put the kids.

I took my time, and gently and lovingly squeezed every single loaf of granary bread until I found the one with the most perfect amount of squishiness. I was so absorbed by being able to spend more than two seconds looking for the items I needed that I walked out of the shop without the formula and had to go back in. Oops, what a hardship...

Costa coffee was on the other side of town. Visiting this beacon of hope and caffeine seemed like a huge indulgence, bearing in mind I’d dropped my family like a bunch of hot potatoes in order to do an ‘emergency’ formula run. But what the hell, I’d averaged four hours sleep per night for ten weeks and didn't mind admitting my default state was tenderly referred to as ‘moody mummy’.

Did I feel daunted by what seemed a five-mile walk to reach my reward? I did not. Did I spend that time thinking about and empathising with my other half who I’d left juggling two tired and crotchety children? Somewhat guiltily, I did not.

Usually a walker known for my excessive speed and purpose, I slowed down so much so that I could have been mistaken for walking backwards.

All in all, including my well-earned coffee shop stop, I visited three whole shops without experiencing that familiar feeling of panic and nausea experienced on shopping trips when you know one or both kids are imminently going to start: a)moaning b)crying c)wanting food and knowing if you don’t give it to them immediately they’ll make sure all hell will break loose d)needing a sleep e)pulling things off shelves f)needing the loo or to be changed g)demanding that we go home as soon as they realise I’m not buying anything for them.

As I got back into my car I felt as refreshed as if I’d been on a week-long holiday to Spain (alone). Was I hot, tired, flustered and grumpy from having said (nay shouted) ‘no’ five milion times in the space of an hour? No, I was not.

Was the outing amazing? Yes, it was. Was it a good idea? Probably not because the next time I get to go will probably be in another ten weeks’ time, and now I’ve had a taste of freedom it’s kind of addictive and I think I want (need) more.

I timed my return home carefully,

so that I would arrive post-tantrum and bedtime preparation, but avoid missing story time (we’re reading my favourite Enid Blyton story at the moment).

Did I invent a couple of traffics jams along the way to eek out my journey? Perhaps. Did I take advantage of not having a mini Simon Cowell giving feedback about my vocals from the back seat so I could sing along to Whitney Houston’s ‘I wanna dance with with somebody’? Yes I bloody did.

But as soon as I got home all I saw was their gummy little grins greeting me, genuinely chuffed that I’d come home, even though I hadn’t brought gifts. And from that moment I never wanted to take another holiday alone again. Well, not for another few days (or at least until we run out of formula again anyway.)