Freedom! Yesssss! (The boys have gone to an evening holiday club that's running every night this week.) So what can Supermum do with her two absolutely free hours? No housework, no cooking, no tidying. Maybe I'll just read a good book. Or is that just displacement activity for the short story I could be writing?
Every working mum needs a bolt-hole. When the boys started giggling and sniggering about various parts of Supermum's anatomy - at tea-time, believe it or not! - I told my husband that what I needed was an island, accessible by ferry only in fine weather when the tide was right. Of course, I'd need to scramble a helicopter to get me there in a hurry, but once there, no-one could find me.
I plainly haven't changed very much since the time when I was nine and "ran away from home". I sat in a field full of waist-high grass near my school for an hour, thinking smugly "they'll be sorry now I'm gone". Then went back home, to be informed by an even smugger little sister that "they" weren't sorry, just mad.
Lo and behold, "they" came home, and they were mad. Very mad. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder, then.
If someone invented respite care for parents, as my husband has been known to say, they'd make an absolute fortune!