Did we push her away? Sam asked, his voice breaking. Does Mum not love us any more? Is she leaving because were in her way? He stared at Maggie, who was gathering her things, so pitiful she could have started crying herself. She stood frozen, unsure whether it was her conscience or sheer exhaustion that pressed harder.
It all began with a harmless joke from me. The night before, Maggie had announced she intended to spend International Womens Day alone, away from the family. The house erupted in noise I couldnt forbid it, but I said everything that was on my mind and then teased the kidsfiveyearold Sam and sevenyearold Arthur.
Did you hear, boys? Mums getting out of here. Weve worn her out, youve driven her away, I tossed out in a seemingly casual, even cheerful tone, though a hidden accusation lingered.
The children jumped at the words. Arthur frowned, Sams eyes widened.
Is she leaving for good? the youngest asked, trembling.
Well, I dont know. Not yet, at least. But who knows, maybe shell get used to it and decide to go for good, I shrugged.
To me it was just banter. The kids took it seriously. Sam threw a tantrum, and Maggieyes, Maggiespent the whole evening soothing him. She hoped Id learned my lesson, but today the pattern repeated.
Come on, Sam, dont cry. Dad still loves you. Im not running away, just off to work, I replied carelessly.
June, my neighbour, almost burst out when she saw the tears in Sams eyes. She sat beside the little boy and gently stroked his cheek.
Sam, love, its not what you think. I just need a day to be on my own, she began, just as she had the day before. You see, Dad spends every Sunday with Uncle Paul and his mates. Mum also needs a break now and then.
Maggie never imagined shed grow tired of the people she loved. Once, she and I seemed the perfect pairwe cycled together, went to the cinema, discussed the books wed read. We had a small family tradition: every Sunday we tried a new café or restaurant, tasting fresh dishes.
Now Sunday belonged entirely to me. Instead of books we talked about vaccination schedules and nursery fees. The only outings we managed were childrens exhibitions and the occasional grocery run.
When Arthur was born everything held together, albeit loosely. Either I or one of the grandparents would sit with the baby. Maggie occasionally found a moment for herself. But the second child changed everything. Maggie was the only one who could juggle both.
My dear, I love them both, my motherinlaw would say, trying to justify herself. But understand mehandling one is a struggle enough. The two together made such a racket last time! Remember that rocking horse by the TV? It survived seven children, but these two rascals broke it while trying to sit on it together.
My own mother became less helpful, at best just dropping by for moral support. She never took the grandchildren, claiming shed already given enough of herself.
For me, spending time with the kids was like a sidedish to a pintoccasional and mooddependent. When I was tired Id lock myself in the spare room and stay there all evening.
Whats the problem? Id ask when Maggie complained. Im just sitting quietly, not bothering you. Its not my fault; you just cant relax. Youre always wiping and cleaning. Calm down, have a rest. Youre too tense.
It was easy for me to talk, while doing nothing around the house. Maggie knew that if she tried to lift a finger, it would just gather moss.
She felt emotionally burnt out. Over time she started shouting more, breaking down. The kids annoyed her when, for the fifth time in two minutes, they refused to eat tomatoes. Her husbandmeirritated her by coming home from work and slamming the door. Everything around her seemed to set her off, yet she held on.
Then Sams birthday arrived.
For three days Maggie spent herself cleaning and cooking. Sam wanted to invite his nursery friends, which meant also inviting their parents. Maggie tidied the whole flat, baked two cakes, prepared salads, and marinated the meat in advance. She planned everything so she could finally get some sleep.
But it didnt work out.
Sam was the first to wake up, immediately trying to rouse his mum.
Sleep! Maggie snapped. Or sit quietly until Im up. Let Mum get some rest!
Sam whined that he was bored and hungry.
Patience, his mother cut him off sharply.
Maggie was so drained she could barely stand. She couldnt fall asleep either; Sams crying kept her awake.
Soon Arthur stirred. As the responsible older brother he tried to fix things: he took Sams hand and led him to the kitchen. Maggie exhaled, hoping she could finally catch a breath, when the clatter of dishes rang out.
She leapt up as if the children had shattered not a plate but her last nerve. The boys were scurrying around the kitchen, picking up shards. On the nearby table lay a box of cereal and a bottle of milk. By the cupboard sat a chairclearly the kids had decided to make breakfast themselves, but had misjudged their strength.
I told you what to do! Maggie shouted. How many times must I say it? Cant you live five minutes without me? When Mum isnt here, maybe youll finally appreciate what I do for you!
She screamed for minutes, words spilling out in a frantic, incoherent torrent. Sam pressed his head against his shoulders. Arthur crossed his arms, eyes downcast. Maggie finally stopped when the younger one burst into tears, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
Alright, alright, quiet now Mum will tidy up, then well go for a walk and pick up some toys.
In that moment Maggie was truly frightened. Yes, theyd broken a plate, but she had reacted as if theyd torn the whole house down. It wasnt normal.
The next day Maggie turned to her friend June for advice. June, a mother of three, still managed to keep her sanity, so she was a trusted voice on family matters.
Honestly, youre carrying everything on your own, June said. Let me guessInternational Womens Day is coming, and youll be expected to host both my motherinlaw and yours. Another marathon of cooking for two days?
Exactly. What else can I do? Maggie replied.
Wake up, Maggie! International Womens Day isnt about women slaving away for the whole family. My brother let me off for a day in the country. Come with metheres a cosy cottage with spare rooms.
Maggie thought it over and agreed. It sounded reasonable. She ordered two books shed been meaning to read, packed a shopping basket, and let the family know her plans had changed.
Her own mother took it calmly, saying, Good, you need a break. The motherinlaw was surprised but didnt object. As for me
So youre ditching us? People spend the day with family, not abandon them, I muttered.
Maggie spent a long time explaining it wasnt a betrayal, just a need for rest. I didnt agree, but I didnt stop her either.
Fine, go wherever you like, even to the moon, I tossed out finally.
Ill be off to the next one, she snapped back.
Later, after Sam and Arthur finally fell asleep, I tried to talk to her.
Listen, cut the jokes. Because of you the kids think I dont love them. Did you see Sams eyes this morning?
Its nothing, just little things. Kids forget by sunrise. And whats wrong with you? Youre supposed to be home that day, not out gallivanting.
Maggie sighed slowly. He kept brushing her off, never hearing her. She was fed up.
You know what, love? All your evenings are quiet because dad gets tired, and Sunday is your day. Ive been on the front line for seven years, no days off. Im not running away, I just need a bit of space so I dont snap at the children. Its not them, its you I have to shout at, she said, narrowing her eyes.
Me? What do I have to do with it? I asked.
Yes, you! Ive explained a thousand times, but you never listen. Lets try this differently. Sunday is your day? Fine. From now on Saturday is mine. Spend at least one day a week with the kids. After all, theyre yours too.
I resisted, but eventually gave in. The alternative was each of us taking a child, and I couldnt handle two.
International Womens Day passed unusually quiet. Wed driven to the cottage the evening before, so Maggie woke not to childrens cries but to the calm of her own room. She lingered in bed with a book. Later June and I laughed over university antics and plotted how to lure the other girls away from their internetfilled hikes.
By evening Maggie sat on the veranda, breathing in fresh air, watching ants haul away a piece of bread shed dropped. Her mind was empty, yet brightlike a room freshly cleared, windows flung wide. For the first time in seven years nobody tugged at her, no one called, asked, or criticised.
June raised a glass and clinked it with Maggies.
Well, heres to you on the eighth, love. Finally youre not just a mother, she grinned.
Maggie returned the smile. Perhaps just for a day, but she finally remembered what it felt like to be herselfnot a mum, not a wife, but a person with her own wishes and the right to a breath of peace.
