Mumstrife

By Emma Thompson

Daydreams, Kids’ Chaos, and a New Adventure in Spanish

Waking up the morning after a great date is a strange mix of giddiness and reality slapping you in the face. 

One moment, I was replaying Ryan’s laugh in my head. The way he reached for my hand so naturally. The way we somehow managed to make kung pao chicken and rogue soup dumplings feel like something straight out of a rom-com. 

The next moment, I was dodging a flying sock and refereeing an argument over whose turn it was to use the blue cup.

Ah, motherhood.

After getting the kids through breakfast (why do they eat at three different speeds, ranging from sloth-like to ravenous hyena??) we piled into the car and headed to the local indoor play center. 

It’s one of those places that smells vaguely like feet and has a soundtrack of squealing children, but the kids love it, and for me, it meant an hour to sit with my thoughts while sipping questionably strong coffee.

And what was on my mind? Spain. 

More specifically, Ryan’s stories of growing up visiting his family near Barcelona. 

His descriptions of the countryside, the slow, lazy afternoons in the sun, and the food—oh, the food—had planted a seed in my mind. 

What if I could actually go there one day? Maybe take the kids? Maybe even speak the language?

I pulled out my phone and, without overthinking it, typed: How to learn Spanish quickly?

Of course, the internet gave me everything from ‘Become fluent in three days!’ to ‘This one trick will make you bilingual overnight!’ But somewhere in the endless scrolling, I remembered a friend—Sophie—who had once done a course in Barcelona. 

She had raved about how immersive it was, how she actually enjoyed learning a new language for the first time in her life.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I called her.

“Sophie! Random question, but remember when you did that Spanish course in Barcelona? Was it actually good, or were you just high on sun and sangria?”

She laughed. “Both!”

“But honestly, it was amazing. Total immersion, great teachers, and I met so many interesting people. Are you thinking of learning Spanish?”

“Thinking about it,” I admitted, twirling a stray lock of hair as I watched Max attempt to climb a slide the wrong way. “You know, just in case I find myself in Barcelona one day.”

She passed me the details of a language school near the “gothic quarter” offering Spanish courses in Barcelona. I saved the link, my curiosity piqued. 

Could I actually do this? Between school runs, work, and general life chaos, could I carve out time to learn something completely new?

The kids eventually tired themselves out, and we made our way home, the idea still lingering in my mind. Maybe learning Spanish wasn’t just about preparing for a hypothetical trip. 

Maybe it was about doing something for me—something exciting, something different, something that reminded me that life wasn’t just about schedules and responsibilities.

I glanced at my phone again, my fingers hovering over the search bar.

Maybe, just maybe!