The space between the notes

Perspective on the dance floor

Welcome to Mother’s Gonna Work it Out – a newsletter not just for mothers with children, but for everyone who cares for anyone. All previous posts are here.

Looking after a toddler is next level. Lose focus for a breath, and they’ve run into the road, driven a toy car along a freshly painted wall, or thrown your phone down the loo. Time is so dense with activity that each moment is its own universe, and it’s incredibly challenging to maintain any sense of perspective.

Even a seemingly straightforward activity like getting off a train is so intense it’s enough to put you off leaving the house. Just the other week, I had a screaming Dexter under one arm and the pram hoisted over my other shoulder while being shoved by passengers rushing for the door – one lady barging past while I was in the process of stepping down onto the platform, which nearly sent us all tumbling.

Along with the practicalities of keeping us alive, there’s also a rich stew of emotions – both Dexter’s and mine – to accommodate in each moment. I’m learning the hard way that a toddler can switch from joy to frustration in an unholy instant, and it particularly stings if you haven’t had the space to encourage perspective. The other week, Dexter and I had a wonderful 20 minutes of sitting in the pub together, eating crisps and watching people. But, back home, taking his shoes off proved incendiary, and he raged from bath to bed, and I forgot all about the pub.

This weekend, my partner and I had a night off and went out dancing while Dexter had a sleepover with family. The sound system at the club was wicked but the music was average, something that’d usually wind me up, but this time is didn’t really matter. Most importantly, I could be alone with my thoughts in a dark club.

I stood thick in the melee and watched girls laughing too loudly at boys who weren’t that interested, and dodged the elbows of a wreckhead with wild hair and moves to match. A world away from my everyday. After a time, my mind landed back in the space between the notes; where I could see the whole landscape, rather than just existing in its component parts. I could see my life for what it is – a rollercoaster that’s both underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time. No wonder it feels like hard work.

As I bounced along to some mediocre house music, a constellation of beautiful memories began to prick light in the dark. For the most part, we have a lovely time. I even began to miss him.

I slept well that night. Dexter had the time of his life with his cousins. He whinged all the way home but I knew it wouldn’t last forever.