How to make the most of weekends as a new mum over 40

When did weekends become another job?

Before I became a mum, weekends were uncomplicated. I could wander around the shops, spend an afternoon writing or meet friends for coffee without consulting anyone else’s timetable. I could even stay in bed until lunchtime, although looking back, I probably wasted far too many opportunities to do so.

Then Cyrus arrived when I was 40, and Saturdays took on a different character. Suddenly there were meals to prepare, small clothes to wash and a child who had no interest whatsoever in whether his mother fancied a quiet morning. I wouldn’t change having him for the world, but I do miss being able to leave the house without announcing my intentions to the entire household.

During the week, I work full-time in PR, which means juggling deadlines, journalists and clients before coming home to the usual domestic demands. Some evenings, I barely have the energy to decide what we’re having for dinner, never mind prepare something imaginative.

I enjoy my career and the independence it gives me. Working is important to our family, and I wouldn’t want to give it up. But by Friday evening, I’m usually ready for two days when somebody else’s deadline isn’t dictating what I do next.

I love my family, but I still need time for the things I enjoyed before becoming somebody’s mum.

A Persian breakfast and a little peace

Saturday mornings start early in our house, partly because I’ve never been good at sleeping in and because my body clock seems to have developed a mind of its own. I’m quite happy pottering around the kitchen before everyone gets going. H is Persian, so breakfast is often more interesting than toast and cereal. I enjoy a tomato omelette cooked with garlic and turmeric, or green eggs with plenty of fresh dill. Cyrus likes both.

I usually make myself some saffron tea and settle down with my laptop to work on Saffron & Cyrus. I love writing, especially when I can follow an idea without worrying about word counts, client approvals or whether somebody needs it by close of play. There’s something satisfying about having a small part of the morning just to myself. Of course, the peace rarely lasts because someone eventually appears looking for breakfast, or a missing sock.

My idea of relaxation involves being shouted at in the gym

I’m a devoted fan of Les Mills Body Attack and Body Combat at David Lloyd Newcastle. Some people relax by having a massage or spending an afternoon browsing the shops. I prefer an hour of loud music, complicated choreography and an instructor encouraging me to work harder when I’m already wondering whether my legs will survive.

I’ve always enjoyed exercise, but since becoming a mum, those classes have taken on greater importance. For an hour, I don’t have to think about emails, household chores or what needs doing when I get home. I’m too busy trying to remember which direction I’m supposed to be kicking.

I love the atmosphere, too. There are familiar faces, a bit of conversation before class and the shared exhaustion afterwards. Nobody cares whether I’ve had a productive week at work or remembered everything on the shopping list. We’re all just trying to get through the final track.

H knows my weekend gym sessions are important. They take up a fair amount of Saturday and Sunday mornings, and I’m sure he’d occasionally prefer us to make other plans. But he understands that exercise makes me happier, and probably rather easier to live with.

I don’t go to the gym because I feel guilty about what I’ve eaten or because I’m trying to reclaim the body I had before motherhood. I go because I enjoy it. At this stage of life, that seems a good reason.

Saturday night, a takeaway and absolutely no plans

By Saturday evening, my enthusiasm for leaving the house has disappeared. I know some people look forward to getting dressed up and going out, but the thought of comfortable clothes, a takeaway and a crime drama is far more appealing.

I can’t say I’m fond of Saturday-night TV. Celebrity competitions and quiz shows don’t do much for me, especially when half the contestants seem to be famous for appearing on other television programmes. H and I would much rather watch something like Fargo. We settle down with our food, occasionally discuss what’s happening on screen and enjoy the rare pleasure of not having anywhere else to be. There’s nothing terribly exciting about it, but that’s rather the point.

After a week of work and family commitments, I don’t feel the need to fill every spare hour with activities. And I’m usually in bed early. I’ve reached the age when a good night’s sleep is more appealing than staying up late because it’s the weekend. Perimenopause doesn’t always make sleeping easy, so when the opportunity presents itself, I intend to take it.

Sundays in Newcastle

Sundays are usually reserved for family time, preferably outdoors. We enjoy walking around Jesmond Dene or Paddy Freeman’s Park, where Cyrus can run about and explore while H and I get some fresh air. I like these ordinary outings. There’s no complicated itinerary, no pressure to make the day memorable and no need to spend a fortune. Cyrus usually finds something to investigate, and I’m reminded that children don’t necessarily need elaborate entertainment to enjoy themselves.

Admittedly, there are limits to how long I can admire an interesting stick or discuss the merits of a puddle, but I enjoy seeing the world through his eyes. We occasionally head further afield, too. A weekend in Edinburgh, staying near the zoo, was a lovely change. It’s close enough to Newcastle to avoid spending half the weekend travelling, but far enough away to feel like a proper break.

We ate out, explored and enjoyed being somewhere different. I appreciated not having to think about the washing machine or the state of the kitchen for a couple of days.

The PR inbox can wait until Monday

One thing I find difficult is switching off from work completely. PR doesn’t always operate according to office hours. Journalists work weekends, stories break unexpectedly and emails have an irritating habit of arriving just as you’re beginning to relax.

I’ve been guilty of checking messages when I should be enjoying time with my family. Sometimes there’s something genuinely important that needs attention, but often it’s habit. After years of working in a profession where being responsive matters, it’s easy to convince yourself that every email deserves an immediate reply.

I’m trying to be more sensible about it. Most things can wait until Monday, and answering a message on Saturday afternoon doesn’t automatically make me better at my job. Besides, Cyrus won’t be young forever. I’d rather spend an afternoon walking with him than looking down at my phone, wondering whether somebody has replied to an email that probably wasn’t urgent in the first place.

Motherhood at 40 has made me more protective of my time

Becoming a mother at 40 has made me more conscious of how quickly the years pass. I had a life before Cyrus arrived, with my own interests, routines and ambitions, and I don’t think those things should disappear because I’m now somebody’s mum. I want him to grow up seeing me work, exercise, write and enjoy life. I also want him to understand that his parents have interests of their own, even if he occasionally finds this difficult to accept.

That doesn’t mean every weekend runs smoothly. There are arguments, household jobs that don’t get finished and mornings when I’d quite happily send everyone out for a few hours so I could enjoy the silence.

But that’s the reality of family life. I don’t expect two perfect days every week, and I’m not interested in making our weekends look more exciting than they are. Sometimes we go somewhere lovely. Sometimes we stay home. Sometimes I spend an hour at the gym and come back to find the kitchen looks as though nobody has considered washing a plate since I left. I’m learning to live with that.

I’m not spending another weekend trying to get everything done

I used to think a productive weekend meant clearing the washing, tidying the house and getting everything organised before Monday morning. The trouble is that there’s always something else to do, and it’s perfectly possible to spend two entire days working through household chores without enjoying either of them.

These days, I’m more inclined to leave something unfinished if it means having time to write, exercise or take Cyrus out. The washing will still be there when I get back. It always is.

I love my family, and I’m proud of the life H and I have built together. But I also like having a few hours when I’m not organising, answering questions or thinking three steps ahead.

So I’ll keep my early breakfasts, my gym classes, our Sunday walks and those thoroughly unglamorous Saturday nights in front of the TV. Monday will arrive soon enough, whether I’ve cleaned the bathroom or not.

Occasional stories, experiments, discoveries and questions from Saffron & Cyrus.