This week’s Dispatches from New Motherhood piece is NIGHT LIFE by Hayley. It’s an intimate, reflective account of the end of the day, that seemingly ever-decreasing space between the children’s bedtime and one’s own. Hayley writes with a beautifully observational eye, as she surveys the chaos of the house, and the distant allure of the world outside. Enjoy her tender piece here.
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NIGHT LIFE
Hayley
As the last light slips from around the edges of ill-fitting drapes, tiny limbs and busy minds give in to the night. The mayhem of the day ebbs away and chaos subsides. My slippered feet pad across the wooden floor, automatically navigating the debris; tiny toy cars, plastic instruments, unlidded felt tips, discarded items of clothing, unwanted pieces of dinner.
I open the fridge door, take out a bottle of wine and pour it into a large glass salvaged from the dishwasher. I take a gulp, then another, then place it down amongst the grubby plates, abandoned vegetable peelings and opened tins. I pause, inhaling slowly, exhaling even more slowly, audibly. I indulge in the luxury of having time to breathe. I try to instil some calm and order into my mind. But like a reflection of the room around me, it's in disarray. I need to gather up the last of my energy to reclaim my space, then maybe my thoughts will be less chaotic too. Resetting, in the hope I will then be able to relax, before starting again tomorrow.
A whimper from overhead. The baby, not the big one. I hold my breath and body still, like playing dead will stave off any interruption to my evening which hasn’t even yet begun. Quiet. I move to the back door, wine in hand. One of my nightly chores is to tend to guinea pigs in their hutch. As I step outside, I hear a faint bassline. I stand on the garden steps sipping wine and trying to pick out a melody. As the breeze changes direction it emerges. A boy-band ballad I recognise from my childhood. The noise of a crowd singing along rolls over the rooftops. I join in with them briefly. People doing their living. So close, but they feel a lifetime away.
A pang of longing for my old life hits me, as it sometimes does. Nighttime is now a very different beast for me. Does this mean I am too? Darkness used to burst with laughter, music, chat, dancing, drinking and planning. Now a quiet, solitary, weary time of day. I wonder when it is I now do my living. If I do at all. The odd hours, here and there, hurried and borrowed. Fleeting freedom, overwhelmed with indecisiveness.
I shake, stretch and flex, trying to awaken my body and snap my mind back into the moment and jobs in hand. Pets fed, the longing is still with me as I step inside. Determined to claw back some of the night for myself, even if only to collapse on the sofa for an hour. Another noise overhead. I can tell already that he's not going to let this one go unanswered. So, wine down and quickly I'm there, settling down next to my boy.
For now, my living is for them.
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Night Life by Hayley appears in the Mothership Writers anthology Dispatches from New Motherhood. All 50 pieces from the book will be published here over the year to come, creating an online library of what it really means – right here, right now – to be a new mother.