It’s surprising how uncomfortable not having anything to stress over has become. It’s as though I’ve dropped the ball somehow, stopped spinning the plates or slackened the rope – and although there should be a joy in that, it feels like I’ve forgotten my responsibilities rather than travelled thousands of miles from them. I feel like Kevin McAllister’s mum in Home Alone, sipping champagne in first class while her kids sit back in economy (I couldn’t do it myself but it sounds like a great start to a holiday), with an uneasy feeling that something is amiss.

I thought my body would melt into relaxation once I was away from the tension I’ve been carrying with the motherload, but instead there’s an uneasy weight lingering across my chest. My absent children pinning me down, reminding me of what I signed up for with parenthood and where I should be …

My hand rubs over my heart while I take a deep breath, shifting in my seat.

I was relieved to be here and checking in after so much travelling; it feels like weeks ago that I said goodbye to Nick and the kids. As soon as I closed the hotel door and turned to my room, I realized that this must be the first time since Barnaby came along that I’ve felt singular, that I’ve felt left to my own devices and not constantly needed, that I’ve felt still. It was eerily quiet, and it’s not as though the room was silent because I could hear scooters beeping and people shouting out on the street below, but they’re not my people or my concern, so they didn’t cause the same adrenaline to pump through my body as my own children do when they scream, holler and wail for my attention. I am able to zone them out with no fear of neglect or unbearable consequences, like someone getting seriously hurt.

I am briefly unwanted, unneeded, and have nothing to do other than focus on me and what I want to do. So I can’t help but wonder what it is I actually want to do now that I have been released of my maternal responsibilities. Moments like this are what I’ve dreamt of during meltdowns, tantrums and challenging moments from the kids. I’ve literally wanted to scream, ‘I’m fucking done, I want to stop now.’ Yet now that I’m away from those moments and alone I don’t want to run a bath, drink wine, play music that I like loudly and swear like a trooper like I did before kids. Instead, I realize that all I really want to do is sit. Just sit. Simple, hassle free, and in no way world-stoppingly inspiring, but it’s needed.

Are you happy?

That’s what Mike asked.

Am I happy?