Living in a Pressure Cooker
I’m enjoying my friend’s reactions when I tell them we’re planning to live in a vintage Airstream and travel around Australia with our three little munchkins.
The best so far, “I think you’re bonkers jamming three kids and two adults into a confined space like that. Maybe you can be sponspored by Kambrook or some other pressure cooker manufacturer.”
I actually think by the time we hit the road it will be an opportunity to let off some steam.
Pressure cooker for me is having three babies in the space of three years (one in India and moving countries within weeks of giving birth), moving house three times in three years, three adorable babies who don’t sleep much, waking up everyday feeling it’s Groundhog Day, never seeing your partner because he works too much, and sharing a house with your mother who you haven’t lived with for 20 years…
I’m under no illusion that trailer living is all peachy and fun. My friend who made the seachange recently described the reality of dropping out from her city life:
“(G)etting on the road doesn’t mean getting away from the work that motherhood brings (in fact in our case, and I’m sure in yours at the start, it actually increased the work while we sorted our new life out and got into the swing of things), for me I think it heightens the experience, softens the grind, increases my patience, and lessens my anxieties. But whatever your circumstances, chores are chores, food still needs to be cooked and dishes washed, poo is poo is poo is poo and puke still stinks whether you are at home or on the road. I know you recognised that you simplified the issues – the work involved and the inevitable sacrifices that these sorts of freedoms demand – but for us it has all been absolutely worth it and only time will tell if this remains the case – and I desperately desperately desperately hope that your freedom – when it finally comes rolling off that boat – is too.”
One of our twins said his first word today “Mama.” My heart almost burst with happiness. Within half an hour he was saying “Mama, Papa, Mama, Papa.” But his Papa is away for work for the next two weeks and is missing out on this incredible milestone. He works hard and he pays the bills but he misses a lot of the magical moments.
I think too many people are on a similar treadmill, missing out on the precious first years of their children’s lives. And for what. A mortgage? A fancy car? Things?
Time to downsize and bring on the Airstream.