Like many couples, the Man and I have a joint account.
This account covers the essentials: bills, food and all necessary expenditures. I have also always kept a secret additional sole account in my name.
Before the child, this account was also for the essentials: bills (of the credit card variety), food (of the fancy night out with my girlfriends variety) and all necessary expenditures (clothes).
After the child came out this secret account took on far greater significance, it became the “Plan B” account. In this account, at all times, there is enough money to run away, change my identity and make a new life for myself.
Now in my first year as a mother I have only occasionally considered using the account mainly because the funds only cover setting up a new life in particular locations. Locations that are cheaply accessed and also where the cost of living is not too high.
Basically, my options are Holyhead or Guernsey. Still though, this week when the child came down with the Winter vomiting bug I was sorely tempted.
Here are 10 times I wanted to make a run for it:
1 When we started running out of non-vomit soaked beds at 3am in the morning on the first night.
2 When, during the chaotic first hours of the vomiting bug, I was running through the house and slipped on a puddle of vomit that had evaded my admittedly inept attempts at cleaning.
3 When, on the way to the doctors office the following day, the child vommed so violently in the pram that I had to take him out and tip the pram sideways to drain the vomit out.
4 When a peripheral acquaintance of mine came along at just that moment to say hello and witnessed the pram-draining incident.
5 When I had to pay €55 for the doctor to recommend Calpol and tell me the child has a vomiting bug – I was drenched in vomit at the time.
6 When, while the child was pitifully nuzzling my neck, he burped and a bit of vomit went down my top.
7 When I discovered that the vomit had made its way into my bra.
8 When, after two days, I had become so immune to the vomit that I was loath to remove vomit-soaked garments as I had already done two washes that day.
9 When, while the child slept in his pram, family members expressed sympathy for him; “Poor little fella needs minding.” and I wanted to scream: “What about me? Who’s minding me?”
10 When the poor child finally appeared to be on the mend and I, settling down to watch TV, felt a foreboding wave of nausea.
