A space of my own

Somehow, without planning it that way, we had ended up with me looking after the girls all day Saturday on most weekends. Chris takes Rosemary swimming on a Sunday and I look after Eleanor while they’re out (though she often sleeps most of that time) and then I look after the girls the rest of Sunday, too.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been finding this harder and harder and building up resentment towards Chris about it. I was annoyed that he was assuming that I would be looking after the girls for most of the weekend and annoyed that he rarely offered to take over for a chunk of time and that I had to ask as a special favour – to get some work finished, to put up shelves, and so on. I was annoyed that, when he did take them for a few hours, he would assume that I would take over as soon as he got home, whereas when I was looking after them, I would get home and continue looking after them for the rest of the day, without much of a break.

Because I hate asking for help. I expect people to know I need help and to automatically offer it. If I think someone needs help I offer it, so I assume that it’s always going to work the other way round. I want people to bring me cups of tea and love it when they do, but I would never ask anyone to make me a cup of tea. Chris, on the other hand, frequently asks for a cup of tea in the morning – and, yes, he does make them himself, too.

What I’m trying to illustrate here is that we have different personalities in terms of asking for and giving help. Chris will happily give help, but much more when asked than spontaneously. And if he needs help, whether that’s help with work, needing me to pick Rosemary up from school one day, needing someone to drive him somewhere to pick up something heavy, or look after the dog – he’ll ask, without any real qualms. If they can’t do it or are not happy to do it, they can just say no. And, in fact, sometimes it can annoy him if someone offers him help when he doesn’t want or need it.

Except I find it really hard to say no. As do my sister and mother and aunt. Which is why I rarely ask them for help, unless I have a good idea that they will be able and willing to do it. And even then, I’ll repeatedly ask if they’re sure. And they’ll say they’re sure and they’ll do it, even if they really shouldn’t – like when my aunt agreed to drive Eleanor to my mum’s when the buses weren’t running, despite having been throwing up all night.

Last weekend it came out that Chris had really come to rely on and expect his Saturdays, but it also came out that I had been finding my Saturdays harder and harder and really needed a fairer weekend childcare split. And, thankfully, Chris is a good guy (which I’m fairly sure I’ve mentioned before), and he agreed to sacrifice some of these Saturdays, which he had grown accustomed to.

So, I get the afternoon off on Saturdays from now on. (Of course, with the proviso that we may occasionally need to swap things around a bit for work purposes or other reasons.) Starting today. And I intend to use it as proper time off, rather than just let it get eaten up by work or cleaning or some other responsibility.

But what will I do with this chunk of dedicated me time? I could go to the cinema. I could go to the gym. I could visit with some friends. What I think I’m going to do, though, is take my nice fresh notepad and go and sit in a cafe, or maybe the library. And write. And perhaps draw. I’m going to take this space of my own and fill it with creativity. And hopefully having a dedicated space to do this will whet my appetite for more and I’ll be inclined to dash off a chapter or a sketch in those spare moments that come up here and there.

What would you do with a regular few hours to yourself? Do you have trouble asking for help? Can you say no? Do you have a weekend childcare split that works for you all?