Mum doesnt love us any more? Shes leaving because were a bother? Sam asked, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Dad gave Margaret, who was packing the last of her things, a sideways glance. She looked so miserable she could have burst into tears herself. The woman froze, unable to tell whether it was guilt or sheer exhaustion that pressed harder on her chest.
It had all begun with a harmless joke from her husband. The night before, Margaret announced she intended to spend International Womens Day on her own, away from the family. The house erupted. Andy couldnt stop it, but he blurted out everything that was on his mind and then started teasing the kidsfiveyearold Sam and sevenyearold Arthur.
Heard the news, lads? Mums getting out of here. Weve worn her out, havent we? Andy said in a halfjoking, almost cheerful tone, though his words carried a hidden accusation.
The children were terrified. Arthur frowned, Sams eyes widened.
Shes leaving forever? the youngest asked, bewildered.
I dont know. Not yet. But who knows, maybe shell decide its best to go for good, Andy shrugged.
To him it was all banter. To the kids it was a catastrophe. Sam threw a tantrum, and Rachelyes, Rachelspent the whole evening soothing him. She hoped Andy had learned his lesson, but today the pattern repeated.
Come on, Sam, stop crying. Dad still loves you. Im not going anywhere, just off to work, Andy replied casually to his son.
Rachel nearly lost control herself, stopped only by the sight of Sams tearfilled eyes. She sat down beside her youngest, gently ruffling his cheek.
Sam, love, its not what you think. I just need a day to be alone, she began, just as she had yesterday. Look, Dad spends every Sunday with his brother Pete and his mates. Mum needs a break too.
Rachel had never imagined shed grow tired of the people she loved. Once she and Andy seemed the perfect pair: cycling together, going to the cinema, chatting about the books theyd read. They had a little family tradition of trying a new café or restaurant each Sunday, sampling fresh dishes and flavors.
Now Sunday belonged entirely to Andy. Instead of books, they argued about vaccination schedules and nursery fees. Their outings were limited to childrens fairs and grocery runs.
When Arthur was born, things still held together by a thread. Either Andy or one of the grandmothers would sit with the baby. Rachel managed to steal occasional moments for herself. But the birth of Sam changed everything. With two little ones, only Rachel could barely keep afloat.
Rachel, I love them both, the motherinlaw would say, trying to justify herself. But understand, I can barely manage one. The two of them caused a ruckus last time! Remember that rocking horse by the telly? It survived seven kids, but those two broke it while trying to sit on it together.
The grandmothers help became rarer, at best a brief visit for moral support. She stopped looking after the grandchildren, claiming shed already done her bit.
Andy treated time with the kids like a snack with a pint: infrequent and only when he felt like it. When he was weary, he barricaded himself in a spare room and stayed there all evening.
Whats the problem? Im just sitting quietly, not bothering you, hed say when Rachel complained. Its not me, its you. You cant relax. Youre always wiping and scrubbing. Calm down, have a break. Youre too tense.
He could speak easily because he never lifted a finger around the house. Rachel knew that if she ever let herself down, the house would be overrun with moss.
She felt emotionally burnt out. Over time she began to shout more often, snapping at the kids who, for the fifth time in two minutes, declared they didnt want tomatoes. She was irritated by Andy, who came home from work, slammed the door, and made everything feel like a battle. Everything seemed to push her over the edge, but she held on.
Then Sams birthday arrived.
For three days Rachel had been cleaning and cooking. Sam wanted to invite his nursery friends, which meant also inviting their parents. Rachel gave the whole house a onceover, baked two cakes, prepared salads, and marinated a joint of beef, planning everything so she could finally get some sleep.
But fate had other ideas.
Sam was the first to wake. He tried to rouse his mother.
Sleep! Rachel barked at him. Or sit down quietly until Im up. Let Mum get some rest!
Sam whined that he was bored and hungry.
Hold it, his mother snapped.
Rachel was so drained she could barely stand, let alone fall asleep. Sams cries only made it harder.
Soon Arthur stirred. As the responsible older brother he tried to help: he grabbed Sams hand and led him to the kitchen. Rachel exhaled, hoping she could finally relax a bit, when the clatter of dishes rang out.
She sprang up as if the children had shattered not just a plate but her last nerve. The boys bustled about, sweeping up fragments. On the counter lay a box of cereal and a bottle of milk; next to the cupboard sat a chair. Apparently theyd decided to make breakfast themselves but had overestimated their strength.
I told you to wait! Rachel exploded. How many times do I have to say you cant manage five minutes without me? When Mum isnt here, youll finally appreciate what I do!
She shouted for what felt like three minutes, words spilling out in a frantic, incoherent torrent. Sam pressed his head against his shoulders. Arthur crossed his arms and stared at the floor. Rachel finally stopped when the youngest started sobbing, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists.
Alright, alright, quiet now Mum will tidy up, then well go out for a walk and pick up some toys.
At that moment Rachel was genuinely frightened. Yes, theyd broken a plate, but shed reacted as if the whole house had collapsed. It wasnt normal.
The next day she turned to a friend for advice. Lena had three children herself and hadnt cracked yet, so she carried weight in family matters.
Of course! Youre carrying everything on your own. Let me guessInternational Womens Day is coming, and youll be hosting both your motherinlaw and your own mum again. Another twoday cooking marathon?
Exactly. What else can I do?
Wake up, Rachel! Womens Day was created for women, not to turn them into relentless houseworkers. My brother let me spend a day out in the country. Want to join? Ive got a cottage with an extra room.
Rachel thought it over and agreed. It sounded sensible. She ordered the two novels shed been meaning to read, packed a grocery basket, and told the family her plans had changed.
Her own mother took it calmly, saying she should rest. The motherinlaw was surprised but didnt protest. Andy, however
So youre running off from us? People spend this day with family, not abandon it.
Rachel spent a long time explaining it wasnt betrayal, just a need for a break. Andy didnt agree, but he didnt stop her either.
Fine, go wherever you like, he tossed back as a parting shot. Even off to the moon.
Ill be off to the moon next time, she snapped.
Later he started teasing the kids again, and Rachel had had enough. When Sam and Arthur finally fell asleep, she walked over to Andy to talk.
Listen, cut the jokes. Because of you the kids think I dont love them. Did you see Sams eyes this morning?
Oh, come off it. Its nothing, just little things. Theyll forget it by tomorrow. And besides, arent you supposed to be at home today, not wandering off?
Rachel sighed slowly. He brushed her off again, again hearing nothing. She was fed up.
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, no days off. Im not running away; I just need a bit of time to get back to myself so I dont snap at the kids. Its your fault I have to shout.
Me? What do I have to do with it?
With everything! Ive explained it a thousand times, but you never listen. Lets try this differently. Sundays your day? Fine. From now on, Saturdays are mine. Spend at least one day a week with the children. Theyre yours too, after all.
Andy resisted, but eventually had to concede. The alternative was each of us taking a child on our own, which Rachel simply couldnt manage.
International Womens Day passed quietly. They had arrived at the cottage the night before, so Rachel woke not to childrens cries but to the peace of the countryside. She lingered in bed with a book, later laughing with Lena about university antics and plotting how to coax the other girls from their onlineobsessed circle into a weekend trek.
By evening Margaret sat on the veranda, breathing in fresh air, watching ants carry away a crumb shed left behind. Her mind was empty, yet bright, like a newly cleaned room with the windows flung wide open. For the first time in seven years, nobody tugged at her, called her, demanded anything, or criticised her.
Lena raised her glass and clinked it with Rachels.
Happy Womens Day, love. Finally youre not just a mum, she smiled.
Rachel returned the smile. It was just for a day, but she finally remembered what it felt like to be herselfnot just a mother or a wife, but a person with wishes and a right to a breather.
