Youve driven her mad, Sam sniffed, eyes welling up. Does Mum not love us any more? Is she leaving because were in the way?
Andrew gave a sidelong glance at Margaret, who was folding clothes with such a sorrowful look she could have burst into tears herself. She froze, squeezed tight, and couldnt tell whether it was guilt or sheer exhaustion that weighed heavier on her.
It all began with a harmless joke from her husband. The night before, Margaret had announced shed spend International Womens Day on her own, away from the family. The house went into a frenzy. Andrew couldnt stop it, but he blurted out every thought that popped into his head and then started teasing the kids fiveyearold Sam and sevenyearold Arthur.
Did you hear, kids? Mums packing up and leaving us, he tossed out in a casual, almost cheerful tone, though there was a sting behind it.
The children practically shrank. Arthur frowned, Sams eyes went wide.
Is she really going forever? the little one asked, trembling.
Dont know yet. Not sure. Maybe itll become a habit, and shell finally decide to go for good, Andrew shrugged.
For him it was just banter. For the kids it was a disaster. Sam broke into a fullblown tantrum, and Emma thats what well call Margaret now spent the whole evening trying to calm him. She hoped Andrew had learned his lesson, but today the same old pattern repeated.
Come on, Sam, stop crying. Dad loves you. Im not going anywhere, just off to work, Andrew said lightly.
Emma almost burst. She held herself back only by the tears in Sams eyes. She sat down beside the youngest and brushed his cheek.
Sam, love, its not what you think. I just need a day to be alone, she started, just like yesterday. Look, Dad spends every Sunday hanging out with Uncle Pete and his mates. Mum needs a break too.
Emma never imagined shed feel worn out by the very people she loved. Once, she and Andrew seemed like the perfect pair cycling together, going to the cinema, chatting about books. They even had a little Sunday tradition: trying a new café or restaurant each week, sampling fresh dishes.
Now Sundays belonged entirely to Andrew. Instead of books, they argued over vaccination schedules and nursery fees. Their outings were limited to kids fairs and grocery trips.
When Arthur was born, things held together, albeit tenuously. Sometimes Andrew would look after Sam, other times one of the grandmothers stepped in. Emma still found a sliver of time for herself. But the moment the second child arrived, everything shifted. Only Emma could juggle both.
My dear, I love them both, the motherinlaw would say, trying to smooth things over. But Im barely coping with one. The two of them turned the house upside down last time! Remember that rocking horse I kept by the TV? It survived seven kids, but these two broke it while trying to sit on it together.
The grandmothers help became rare, at best just a quick visit for moral support. She stopped looking after the grandchildren, claiming shed had enough of her own.
Andrew, for his part, treated time with the kids like a sidedish to his beer occasional and only when he felt like it. If he got tired, hed shut himself in the spare room and spend the whole evening there.
Whats the problem? hed ask when Emma complained. Im just sitting quietly, not bothering anyone. Its not my fault, its yours. You cant relax. Youre always wiping, cleaning, scrubbing. Calm down, have a rest. Youre far too tense.
He could speak easily because he never lifted a finger at home. Emma knew that if she ever let herself slack, the house would grow moss.
She felt emotionally burnt out. Over time, Emma started snapping more, shouting at the kids when they whined for the fifth time in two minutes about not wanting tomatoes. She hated the way Andrew would come home, slam the door, and disappear into his own world. Everything seemed to get under her skin, but she held on.
Then Sams birthday rolled around.
For three days straight Emma was cleaning, cooking, and preparing. Sam wanted to invite his nursery friends, which meant the parents, too. Emma turned the whole flat upside down: two cakes baked, salads prepped, meat marinated in advance. She laid out a schedule to squeeze in a decent nap.
But the chaos didnt wait.
Sam was the first to wake up, and he tried to rouse his mum.
Wake up! Emma barked. Or sit quietly until Im up. Let Mum sleep!
Sam whined that he was bored and hungry.
Patience, she snapped.
She was so drained she could barely get out of bed. Sleep eluded her; Sams crying didnt help.
Soon Arthur stirred. Being the responsible older brother, he grabbed Sams hand and led him to the kitchen. Emma let out a sigh, hoping she could finally relax, 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 busy clearing shards on the kitchen counter. A box of cereal and a bottle of milk sat nearby, and a chair was knocked over from the cupboard. Apparently theyd tried to make breakfast themselves and misjudged the effort.
I asked you to wait! Emma exploded. How many times do I have to say it? Can you even survive five minutes without me? If I werent here, would you finally appreciate what I do?
She shouted for what felt like three minutes, words spilling out in a frantic, incoherent torrent. Sam buried his head in his shoulders. Arthur crossed his arms, eyes downcast. Emma finally stopped when the youngest began to sob, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
Alright, alright, settle down Mum will sort it all, then well go for a walk and maybe grab some toys.
She was genuinely frightened at that moment. Theyd broken a plate, sure, but shed overreacted as if the whole house had collapsed. It wasnt normal.
The next day Emma called her friend Lucy for advice. Lucy had three kids herself and still managed to keep her sanity, so Emma trusted her judgment.
Honestly, youve got everything on your shoulders. Let me guess Womens Day is coming up, and youll be hosting both your motherinlaw and your own mum again. Another marathon of cooking for two days straight?
Exactly. What else can I do?
Wake up, Emma! International Womens Day isnt meant for women to be chained to the house. My brothers let me off for a day out in the country. Come with me Ive rented a cosy cottage with extra space.
Emma thought it over and agreed. It sounded reasonable. She ordered two books shed been wanting to read for ages, packed a grocery basket, and let the family know her plans had changed.
Her own mother took it well, saying she should rest. The motherinlaw was surprised but didnt object. Andrew, however
So youre ditching us? People spend this day with family, not running off.
Emma explained at length that it wasnt a betrayal, just a need for a break. He didnt agree but didnt stop her either.
Fine, go wherever you like, even to the moon, he muttered as a parting jab.
Maybe Ill fly off next time, Emma retorted.
Later he started teasing the kids again, which Emma could no longer tolerate. When Sam and Arthur finally fell asleep, she approached Andrew for a serious chat.
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. Theyll forget it by dawn. And whats wrong with you staying home on that day? Its your job to be around, not off gallivanting.
Emma exhaled slowly. He brushed her off again, as if shed never spoken. Shed had enough.
You know what, love? All your evenings are quiet because Dads tired, and Sunday is your day. Ive been on the front line for seven years without a day off. Im not running away; I just need a breather so I dont snap at the kids. Its you I have to shout at, not them. Lets try this: if Sundays yours, then Saturdays mine. Spend at least one day a week with the children. Theyre yours too, after all.
He resisted, but eventually gave in. The alternative was each of them taking one child alone, and Emma couldnt handle two.
So Womens Day passed unusually quiet. Theyd driven into the cottage the night before, so Emma woke not to childrens cries but to her own silence. She lingered in bed with a book, laughing later with Lucy over university stories and planning a girlsonly hike without WiFi.
By evening, Margaret was lounging on the veranda, breathing fresh air, watching ants haul away a crumb of bread shed dropped. Her mind was empty but bright, like a freshly cleaned room with the windows flung open. For the first time in seven years, nobody nagged, summoned, or criticised her.
Lucy raised a glass and clinked it with Emmas.
Well, happy Womens Day, Mum. Finally youre not just a mum, she grinned.
Emma returned the smile. It was just for a day, but she finally remembered what it felt like to be herself not a mother, not a wife, but a person with her own wishes and a right to a little breathing space.
