So today I woke up early, put my make up on, took a deep breath and faced the day. I didn't want to face the day however, I would have much rather stayed in my pyjamas with my hair looking like I'd been caught in a hurricane and ate chocolate and watched movies. But off to work I went and, as it's the Easter holidays and all the kids are home, it was actually quite nice to get some peace and quiet! this was short lived though as the mundanity of my job kicked in and I looked forward going home to 'relax'.
Hah mistake!
Upon arriving home I was greeted with grunts by two of my darling children who barely looked away from the TV. Curtains closed, plates strewn here and there and the distinctive smell of feet. So I decided we were going out so I could buy some plants (and quite honestly to prolong the time before I had to tidy up) for the garden because I obviously dont have enough to bloody do so I have to create more jobs for myself! But in my mind I have his Mary Poppins image of who I'd like to be, you know that 'fun' 'perfect' mum that only exists in posts on Facebook! I had visions of me planting up the garden while my children helped and made daisy chains and shit.
So I bought my plants, and seemed to spend a small fortune every time I got to a checkout because suddenly sweets and chocolate and random bottles of pop appeared on the conveyor belt with 3 small angelic looking faces beaming at me! They obviously know I'm a soft touch (especially on pay day!)
Did I go home and create a beautiful display of geraniums that wouldnt look out of place at the Chelsea Flower Show? Did I bollocks, they are still in their sad little pots on the lawn, the shopping is still in the bags on the sofa and the kids have returned to their habitual television watching. I had planned to be Mary Poppins honestly I had, and best intentions were....intended, but instead this is what actually happened.
My lovely middle child had said he would tidy up the hallway and landing in return for an extra £1 at the shops, so he dutifully started putting away the random hats and coats and bags (and tennis rackets and footballs and roller skates and the million other things that were piling up at the bottom of the stairs) then we smelt 'the smell' that is unmistakeably poop! My nose led me into the hall and my eyes focussed (although my brain desperately tried to stop them) on trodden-into-the-carpet crap leading through the hall, up the stairs and onto the landing.
Yep! Shit quite litterally got real! I didn't scream at him, no no, I still had Mary in my head singing spoonful of fucking sugar, I instead told my lovely but dim child who hadn't even noticed his poop caked trainers to put his shoes outside with the wilting flowers and leave me to clean it up. Cue a lot of scrubbing and under the breath swearing.
The under my breath swearing got slightly louder and pronounced when I'd finished cleaning up the little brown piles of joy and found everyone else chilling out eating Pringles amoungst the bags of shopping, so for the safety of my family I shut myself in my bedroom, liberally sprayed air freshener so I could forget the horror of just been through and counted to ten.....um, make that 100 whilst listening to the little hum of rage inside my brain.
So the end of the day, the hallway is still a complete mess, the kids are still in front of the TV, the house smells, only vaguely now, of detto and febreezel, the garden is still a mess, the house still a wreckage, and Mary Poppins can fuck right off unless she brings reinforcements ...and wine!
Is this what I imagined when I became a parent? Nope! But I will console myself with the thought that not every day is like this, sometimes I can go a whole day without scrubbing something out of the carpet or losing the plot! And tomorrow I can stay in my pyjamas all day :-)
