I told a lie today. A perfect, wonderful selfish lie and I carried it with me all day, tucked in my conscience. I’m not good at lying, I find it draining and difficult and develop an irrational fear that somewhere, at some time I’ll pay. But today was different.
I told a lie and it gave me back a little piece of the old me. The pre-child me and I’m not certain I wouldn’t do it again. It wasn’t huge or difficult and it weaved it’s way into conversation with shocking ease. It all started when I knew I had to go to the doctor’s today but I told everyone my appointment was a whole two hours before it was. It meant there was no point coming home before my hair cut. A whole two hours with no where to be.
So my lie and I bought coffee and wandered through cobbled streets that hate buggies. Peered into shops that remain closed to toddlers and I spent half an hour browsing old books. Books that tiny hands would smear with banana. I stood in an antique shop looking at myself in the misty glass of an 19th century mirror. The mist blurred my edges and for a moment made me feel 18 again. It was a little rebellion against responsibility, against always being reliable, dependable and mummy.
I’m a creative soul, it’s words and books and solitary thought that recharges my batteries. It all sounds a bit wanky in the light of day – but apart from Pirates Love Underpants and the like I don’t get to enjoy those things as much now. Sometimes it’s bloody hard to be yourself when some of you is stuck in another world waiting. So just heading out to find that other bit occasionally, meeting up and making your peace – well that’s just common sense right?
I love my boys unconditionally and my time with them is fantastic and joyous and something of which I’m never bored. But occasionally the other me needs some time, so today I did just that.
I told a lie which bought me a little time. It was the lie that made it special. If people had known I was wandering round recharging my batteries no one would have minded. But it wouldn’t have been the same. The frisson of excitement as I left the house was completely over the top, in fact it was a bit pathetic really.
But sitting here tonight I feel better, sunnier, a little less like someone else and a little more like me. I don’t feel any guilt, just a bit clearer. I enjoyed reading Pirates Love Underpants three times tonight and I reckon I can thank my little lie for that. It wasn’t white, or necessary or even particularly interesting. But it’s mine and I think I might love it just a little.