It’s 2am.
I’ve just settled Alpha after he fell out of bed for no apparent reason. He asked for water. And songs. And more water. I complied.
Somewhere in between the requests, my mine wanders. I let it, so I don’t fall asleep. It took me far, far away to a place without my kids…
It is evening. A well-tended open fire crackles invitingly. There is no fire screen to be seen. The poker and matches are in full view and easy reach. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air, but it isn’t oppressive. Underneath that scent lingers the perfume of fresh red roses that are arranged artfully in a crystal vase on a low coffee table. A fresh pot of steaming hot coffee sits close to the edge of the table.
The coffee table sits on a pristine white rug. The floor boards are polished and have never borne the weight of the wheels of a tank engine. The eggshell blue walls of the room are free of dubious smears and are filled with photos of holidays in exotic locations. The deep-seated white leather couches are texta-free and have never once had smushed sultanas cleaned from their zippers. The dark red mohair rug draped over one arm has never been a vital piece of a cubby house.
A large, fingerprint-free flat screen television is mounted on the wall. The entertainment unit does not bear the scars of a hundred dinosaur stomps and is completely child lock free. The collection of movies and tv shows displayed underneath contains nothing suitable to feature on ABC Kids. On the screen is a movie of my own choice without a single animated character or stay-in-your-head-all-day-until-your-ears-bleed theme song.
I have my choice of treat that I do not have to share or hide. My knitting project sits beside me, safe from inquisitive fingers. I can stay up as late as I choose without worry because I can wake as late as I want in the morning. My housekeeper will take care of any cleaning required.
“Mummy?”
A small, sleepy voice breaks me out of my reverie.
“I’m always safe with my mummy.”
I lean forward and kiss my son’s forehead. I don’t have eggshell blue walls or a spotless home. I certainly don’t have a housekeeper.
But I have him. And his brother. And there is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than singing my child to sleep – even if I do have to share my treats, and will be woken at least twice before morning.
It’s a lovely dream though 🙂 I totally relate!
Thank you!! It’s always reassuring to know you’re not alone. Especially at 2am. 🙂
Oh yes, I have that dream. It’s now my empty nest fantasy, although I fear grandchildren, with their stick fingers, will trample all over that one too.
Is coffin interior design a thing? Maybe I should pin my all-cream dreams on that?
The great thing about grandkids is that you can send them home and wipe away the fingermarks…or so I’m told! They’re many many years off for me.
I’m sure coffin interior design would take off if you could make a Pinterest board about it. :p
I’m sure you’re right. Scary. 😉
A dream doesn’t snuggle up to you and say “I love you” – it’s just and idea, a nice one I admit, but not warm and cuddly.
Lovely writing, I could picture it all, but i felt the love of your son shine right through it all.
Thank you! It’s true, dreams aren’t renowned for their snuggly-ness. I wouldn’t swap my life for the dream at all.