I sat down in the driver's seat and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Not only because I knew the reason behind The Boy's raging temperature and whimpering last night (ear infection) but also because I was about to have a guaranteed two hours ahead of me where the only person I had to think about was me. Sounds selfish doesn't it?
Buckling up my seatbelt, sliding the car into first and feeling that initial burst of energy from the engine as I drove to my dentist's appointment filled me with mixed emotions. I'm petrified of the dentist, I have really weak teeth and nearly every tooth that could have a filling, has one. However the opportunity to focus on just me for a short time, especially after the terrible night that we've just had, was welcome.
Then of course is the obligatory guilt at leaving The Boy, especially when he is poorly. I should be with him, giving him cuddles, nursing him to sleep, making him feel better. Instead I am entrusting him into my mum's more than capable arms so I can go and be told that I need falsies, or something else just as frightening.
Driving to the other side of Cardiff for the appointment is not as irritating when I'm on my own, because I like driving. That scene in 'What Women Want' where Mel Gibson is explaining the advert for trainers and how when women run it's just them and the road is how it is for me and driving. I enjoy driving, I like judging the distances, paying attention to others around me, adjusting routes etc. When you have a little one in the car with you, you're too busy picking up the toy they've just dropped, making sure the sun isn't in their eyes, not crashing and singing along to Bangra Beat. Now don't get me wrong, I like The Zingzillas but there's only so much Zak a woman can take. I'd rather be serenaded by Robbie and Gary.
My point of all this waffle is that every so often all mummies need some time on their own. Even if it is only to be told that you need a filling in one tooth and potentially root canal surgery on another.