Hey lovely people. I have just got home, I have been at work today for ten hours, I left my children in bed watching Deadly 60 with my husband who didn’t have to go to work until this afternoon.
It’s half term, what mother doesn’t want to be at home enjoying some rare ‘free’ time with her children but due to a holiday later on in the year no time off for me or hubby this school half term.
Our cleaner came yesterday, yes we have one, she is amazing and literally allows me to have a small amount of time back to get other jobs done mostly. When I left this morning everything wasn’t perfect but it was calm and mostly in order.
My husband dropped the boys off to my parents on his way to work this afternoon, my parents took them to their weekly swimming lessons, fed them and took them back to their house where I arrived at half past six, they fed me (shepherds pie, love you mum) and then we sat over a cuppa and the boys watched one episode of Operation Ouch (hot identical twin doctors, I don’t argue too much!). Then came the ‘I don’t want to go home’, ‘I want to stay at Nana’s’ and the half an hour long struggle while I am yawning my head off and trying to collect up the copious amounts of belongings the boys travel with.
When we finally get in the car and drive home all the while with the boys arguing I turn the ignition off and look at my watch, it’s twenty past eight in the evening. I’m bloody knackered.
I turn the key in the front door, in my hands are one handbag, one swimming bag, one carrier bag full of today’s dirty clothes, one plate of shepherds pie for hubby when he gets home, two small minion raincoats, a shopping bag with some birthday bits for hubby’s birthday tomorrow and a set of car keys. I open the front door and look around the hallway. There are living room cushions on the floor. There are toys all over the floor. The breakfast bowls are still on the breakfast bar, the bed isn’t made, the living room is covered with sofa cushions from the conservatory (a makeshift boat the boys tell me) and I want to scream.
I have now read the boys a story, put on their Roald Dahl audio book (bfg) and come and sat on my bed. I’m looking at the piles of washing that need putting away, the birthday presents that need wrapping and the clock, telling me just how fast time is going and how rubbish I am at time keeping.
How oh how do we do it? I don’t even work full time (thirty hours a week), how many women tonight are in my position, we want to earn money to have nice things, nice homes and to set examples for our children of strong women with successful careers and yet all I want to do some days is be here, share their time with them while they still want to spend it with me, to keep the house as nice as I possibly can, to be able to relax and enjoy the world around me instead of feeling stressed and tired all the time!
What’s the solution? The lottery? A dynamic career change with a huge pay cut but more time at home?
Answers on a postcard please! Considering on changing my name to tired and useless from Whitstable!