My daughter and I woke Monday morning with excruciating headaches. Our stomachs lurched and we were both hoarse. We looked at each other, and said “day at home” in unison. We have been housebound for three days now. We have slept, played games, had lunch together at the dining table, and mummy has snuck off to do mummy jobs. I now have a clean fridge, laundry, home, and a life that seems in order. It makes last week’s disorder a distant memory. It was school holidays, and this mummy was trying to juggle media, writing, promoting my book, organizing my health appointments and entertaining my six year old with a myriad of activities. I hadn’t had time to cook dinner for a fortnight, couldn’t find a spare hour in our schedule to supermarket shop, and my email box was full to overflowing. I was exhausted, and scared I had forgotten something, Scared of letting anyone down. What she and I both needed was to stop. This virus had been building, first as fatigue which I chose to ignore. Our bodies are wise machines. They break down when they have reached their limit. I had forgotten the power of saying “no, I am sorry, but I can’t.” As much as I adore the people in my life, I can’t possibly see them all in the space of seven days. I have tried. I started to feel sheepish when faced with the reality of needing to attend to the basics of running a household. I have discovered that it is imperative to have more space in my day and on my calendar. I need to be a role model for my child, and teach her it’s okay to have dreamy, breezy, easy days, with no commitments. To cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie. To turn the phone off and disengage. I hope that the clarity this week has afforded me remains, and I can relish the simple joys, and have a bit more spontaneity available. Space for impromptu visits and calls, for travel and surprises. I don’t want to see a calendar groaning under the weight of the commitments pencilled in. I vow to pencil in pockets of time where we are home, and doing nothing but relishing each other’s company. The three of us. It makes the social activities enjoyable (which is what they are meant to be). I have to go sip some lemon water and play Uno with my daughter now. I shall see you soon, my friends. xxx