Cucumber and Mint-Infusion

Just relax. It will be fine. It will all be?fine.

No. I shouldn’t be here. Not on my own.?

This is wrong.?This is so wrong. Something?bad?is going to happen.

I’ll get a phone call any minute telling me disaster has struck, and I’ll forever regret this very moment. I’ll look back and think,?why did I do it? Why did I agree to it?

But he told me to. He practically forced me. After I tossed everything that was on the stairs out the window. But?no one?was taking anything up. By no one, I mean Daz. You couldn’t see the carpet anymore. I’d had a bad day, and it just tipped me over the edge. So, I threw it all out the window. Even my tote bag that I should have picked up myself.?Daz, half-naked because he'd just got out of the shower, darted out, grabbing everything back inside before our neighbours saw. Though, I think Peggy Pompton saw because her curtain twitched.

And now here I am.

Forced to?soak in a cucumber and mint-infused bath with a deafening silence closing in on me because, apparently, I needed a break. Meanwhile, Daz is probably scrolling through reels at his dad’s house, totally oblivious to Sydney ransacking the DIY cupboards, shoving nails into her pockets, and giving Riley and Jacob hammers so they can all go and make a flying car in the garden while Grandad is napping in the middle of the vegetable patch.?

I almost flood the bathroom floor by bolting upright to check my phone. Why did I leave it over by the sink? Of course, I would need to check it. I hope it’s on loud. Oh, did I leave it on silent??No, I wouldn’t have done that.

No. It’s okay. I sink back under the minty boiling water. Just relax. It will be fine.

One whole weekend to myself. What could go wrong? Okay, no, that is?not?what I should be asking. I could fill this entire house with all the possibilities of what could go wrong. A six- and four-year-old is a handful as it is, but Jacob has only just given up breastfeeding. What if he suddenly decides after a month of going teetotal that he can’t hack it anymore and must have breastmilk? Well, okay, my milk has probably dried up now anyway. From the look of my…oh wait, they’re not even there anymore.?

This is so not relaxing.

Okay. Just close your eyes, Maddie. Breathe in the cucumber and mint-infused bath oil?your?mother-in-law so kindly gave you because you ought to relax?more?even though she never offered to take the children from you?so?you can use the cucumber and mint-infused bath oil.

Calm.?

All those nails.?The hammers. A nail through Jacob’s little hand.?

Oh, breathe. Can you sweat in the bath? I hope Daz gives them food.

How did toothpaste get on the ceiling?

Above the bath as well. They had nothing to climb onto. Unless they Spiderman-ed it up the shower pole. Knowing Riley, that sounds about right. Then again, Sydney did get poo on the showerhead that one time. At least it was her way to attempt to get clean. Why would you put toothpaste on the ceiling? It doesn’t even make sense.?

Relax.?

I am supposed to be achieving zen.?

Oh,?I forgot to put more Child’s Farm shampoo on the shopping list.?Must remember. Did I add onions? Or do I have too many? Was it white or red? I should put wine on there?too. Syd’s show and tell is this Friday. Something to do with plants. That book that she loves. I know I’m meant to be relaxing, but if I don’t find it this weekend, the week will descend upon me like a frothing wave?and?I?won’t have time to search the entire house if we’ve lost it, and then Syd will lose it on me, and I’ll have to come up with something else while still searching for it and burning something for dinner and…No. I’ll?simply?get it after this bath, put it in a?bag,?clearly labelled with her name, and tuck it away safely in the boot. Therefore, I will be Supermum and Syd will love me. And then I’ll get back to being zen. Or should I go to the garden centre and buy a plant?

The hands on the little blue fish clock tick so slowly. I’ve only been?in?here for ten minutes, but it feels like a lifetime. I don’t remember the last time I had a bath for this long.?Without?being shouted at for trying to get clean?because everyone?else needs me to clean them.?Well, not Daz, but I’d probably hear the usual, ‘Mads, I’ve got no clean boxers!’?to which I would reply, ‘Sorry! I’ll get a load on after?this’. What he wouldn’t?hear?is,?there’s a washing machine downstairs; we’ve?had it for nearly ten years!

Well.?If I stay soaking here like a chickpea, I won’t get all the other stuff?done?that I want to get?done.?Here’s my list:

1)???Have a relaxing bath. Nearly completed. Maybe?except?for the relaxing part. Because who can relax in a bath when you know your six-year-old could?be encouraging?your one-year-old to bash a rusty nail into a splintered piece of wood?

2)???Sit outside and read my book without interruption.

3)???Finish a hot cup of tea.?Hot.

My phone rings on the side, and I flood the floor by bolting upright, sending a tidal wave over the side. I can’t even finish my thoughts about a hot cup of tea, let alone finish a hot cup of tea.

I grab it with my cucumber and mint-infused hand. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, darling!’ Daz exclaims. ‘Jacob, no! Syd, get that off?Jacob. Sorry. Just wanted to ask when Jacob is meant to have a nap?’

I grit my teeth, breathing evenly, one hot, dripping leg in the bath, one hot, dripping leg out the?bath, dripping all over the place, my heart pounding, my mind still racing with images of them all in A&E, and calmly reply, ’Twelve o’clock. After his lunch.’

‘Okay, thanks! Jacob! Jacob! Syd, I told you to take that off him, it’s?dange…gotta go!’

I clutch the phone, flick it onto silent, lock it inside the cabinet with all the Sudocrem and Calpol and plasters, and slide back in the cucumber and mint-infused bath, deep down, until the world ebbs away. Until the stress fades, and that loyal smile that always finds its way back on my face, grows wider at hearing the beautiful screechings of my children.

Just relax.