I often wonder whether I make things harder for myself. Then I realise that things are just harder because I have children, they require feeding, entertaining and 24 hour attention, they get sad if I go anywhere without them, like for a wee, isn’t that sweet. It’s great having them here, they make our house come alive and I couldn’t imagine it any other way, but I often wonder what I would do with all my spare time (probably sleep) if I managed to just get stuff done.
I spend about 20 hours of my day with the little one attached to some part of my body; hip, stomach, tit, back or his fav, just swinging on my hair. What do you do with the other 4 hours I hear you ask. Well, I can absolutely confirm that it does not involve anything like sleeping, generally resting or drinking hot tea. Nope, this precious time is usually dedicated to providing snacks, watching the latest Minecraft village creation and dressing Barbie so the girl can undress her again.
I am used to having to get through the day while not actually being able to achieve an awful lot of productive stuff. But it can still make me feel a bit sad (translation: an utter failure) if at the end of the day I can’t produce a home cooked meal, an empty washing basket, three clean children and the little one has hasn’t managed to have the scheduled naps.
So, in order to actually get anything done, I’ve had to get creative and also improve my bribery skills. It usually takes longer and it’s always harder than it needs to be, but more often than not, just going with the crazy gets me there in the end. Therefore, any attempt to master a job usually involves bribing the bigger ones to play with the little one, but then I blink and they are back on their tablets. The alternative is just letting the little one play with (smash) stuff in the kitchen cupboards, a lot of the plates are now chipped.
Foolishly, we took all the child locks off the kitchen cupboards when the girl failed to show any interest in banging pans or drinking bleach. In addition I was all like “I’m never having more kids”, so we probably threw the locks away in an attempt to create the illusion that life was getting back to normal and the baby years were well and truly behind us. We’re not laughing now.
But lets just be honest, I mainly feed him, which is probably why he’s so bloody big. I pass him bits off food and he toddles back and forth for more when he’s ran out, whether he eats it, squishes it into the carpet or rubs it into his sisters hair, I often find out much later.
So, what sort of fun do I have when ticking all the jobs off the ‘to do list’ each day, let me share with you:-
Doing the Washing (clothes not dishes) – If it’s clean and waiting for the ‘put the washing away’ fairy to visit our house (guess what – it’s me), I will carefully balance a tower of washing that is as big as the Blackpool tower in my right arm while the little one slowly slides out of my left. I will then try to get up the stairs as quickly as possible with the objective of making it to the top before I drop the kid. This usually takes place with everyone else in the house walking upstairs behind me, empty handed.
Applying make up – Luckily for me I rarely look any better with make up. My husband says he can never tell if I have any on anyway so I just slap on a bit of this and a bit of that (often lots of pink Vaseline) and hope for the best. This is usually done with the girl rummaging in the make up bag and and rubbing various products onto her face. The little one is either on my knee or playing with the eyelash curlers, deodorant or sicking his fingers in the pink Vaseline, but he’s distracted, that’s what matters.
Plucking eyebrows – I have come to accept that this is a rarity for me and to be honest it’s done me good. In my youth I plucked away until I had two almost invisible thin lines. Since having kids the lack of ‘me time’ has meant I have managed to grow my eyebrows back, yay me! Once, last Christmas I even got them waxed, true story, I even made small talk with the woman who did them. Perhaps in this instance the kids have done me a favor and I shouldn’t complain.
Putting socks on- When I was pregnant with the third kid my stomach stuck out so much that I couldn’t bend over far enough to be able to put my socks on, (or my shoes) and my husband had to do this for me. Oh, how we laughed, it was so funny, but it was OK because when the baby came along I’d be able to do this for myself again, right? Thankfully, the massive baby stomach has gone but I have failed to master the art of putting socks on with one hand while holding at least one child. So I just spend the day feeling like my feet might actually drop off, even on the days when it’s hitting 25 degrees outside.
Washing up – I hate washing up, I want and need a dishwasher but we have never got around to it. To be fair to anyone who offers to wash up I will decline because no one else washes up properly. I do the dishes in the correct order, obviously there is a correct order, please let me know if you want details as to the correct order, however, I suspect everyone else on the planet has a fucking dish washer and has no actual need to know this information. On the rare occasion the husband washes up I will line the dishes up in the correct order for him, I’m helpful like that. The girl has a thing for water and will try to wash up, but will also flood the kitchen in doing so. The first born still believes in the washing up fairy and the little one clings to the front of my legs as I do the job, meaning I end up washing up with my ass sticking out, I also wear pink rubber gloves, it’s a great look.
Cooking a nutritionally balanced family meal (that is not spaghetti hoops) – Spaghetti hoops are my go to for an easy night after spending a week cooking from scratch. However, cooking a meal can be one of the easier tasks, providing the little one is asleep and I have prepared everything in advance, a bit like when Jamie Oliver has all his bits of ingredients in little bowls to just throw together, if this is done I can accomplish great things. I wait until the little one falls asleep, in the sling of course because he needs to be attached to me at all times. Then I prepare a meal, during this time my back is breaking because I reckon he got too big for the sling at least four months ago. On the occasion that he is awake, he gets to sample everything that gets chopped, toddling back and forth with is little Paw Patrol bowl to be refilled, anything that he doesn’t like will be found later that night mushed into the sofa and subsequently stuck to my leg. The big ones during this time have cottoned on to the fact that there might be some food on the go and are shouting from the living room “snack!” while in a zombie like state and staring at their tablets.
Cleaning the fire out – I know this is an odd one and probably not very common but where we live, out in the sticks, we have no gas, so we rely on a fire to heat our home and our hot water, we are so apocalypse ready. The little one likes to help clean the fire, which is so sweet and completely inappropriate considering it’s a fire and everything. So I basically spend this time trying to stop him from jumping in the fire, eating the fire lighters and basically killing himself in a variety of ways. The key here is to repeatedly ask for help and be ignored every time, then have a Mum meltdown and cry about being the only person in the house who does everything and how no one helps. After this I will develop the feeling of being an all around failure for going mental over the fire clean out, while the kids try to provide guilt hugs and loosely attempt to distract the little one by throwing things for him to go and fetch like he’s the family dog.
Getting coal – There is a trick to this one, first I unlock the door, then I carry the little one to the furthest point away from the door (because he likes to escape and I’m giving myself a head start). I open the door, start shoveling coal, think I’ve managed to fill the bucket without loosing the kid (because the gate is broken) only to turn around and find him staring at me, big smiles and offering me the lump of coal he has in his hands. The only way to manage this one is to look on the bright side, he’s the only one who helps me get the coal, a bit like he’s the only one who picks up his own washing. He’s well trained for a one year old, not sure where I went wrong with the other two.
Hanging washing out – Obviously this is the most fun job for any Mum, ha ha ha. I can absolutely confirm that it is so much better when you are doing this while also holding a one year old and it’s blowing a gale outside. However, the alternative is that he escapes into the street, looking like a scruff and with no shoes on, his face covered in whatever chocolate I have used to distract him while I managed to achieve the previous task. I therefore end up just throwing items over the line and sticking a peg on them. Then I walk into the house with crossed fingers hoping that Dad won’t come home to find his ‘On that Ass’ undies in the neighbors garden two doors down.
Having a wee – Me having a wee in my house is a bit like waiting for Christmas Day once December arrives. Eagerly anticipated yet you wait for what feels like forever for it to happen. This activity will involve me stating several times that I need a wee over the course of about two hours. When I finally get the opportunity to fly to the stairs doing the wee dance and ready to run up, the little one will leg it after me. Grabbing the kid and dashing upstairs I’ll plonk him down, the fist born will shout up to shut his bedroom door. God forbid the little one enters the lair and touches any drones, Lego creations or home made weaponry. After managing the longest wee in the world I will find the little one in the girls room, playing with the doll house while waving a potato gun at me.
And there we have it. After reading this myself I’ve realised that I really do have endless amounts of fun while trying to achieve productive stuff in my house. And that just makes me a lucky Mummy.
