Sproglette is howling like someone is murdering her, Sproglet is talking at 16 to the dozen, I'm covered in rusk, mushed banana and barely able to think straight and the clock says 7:02. Is your life like this? A groundhog day of stacking/unstacking the dishwasher, reloading and emptying the washing machine machine/dryer, folding mountains of clothes, boiling up veggie mush, wiping arses, jingling toys, cooing, bribing, stressing, tidying, tidying, tidying, stepping on small hard plastic toys that almost remove a toe and folding enough laundry to fill an Oxfam store???
I watch as Husband disappears to work and I envy him. He gets to mix with adults. Chat. Wee in peace. I knew it would be like this - I have been here before - but it doesn't make it any easier at times. Yet the thought of giving Sproglette over to a stranger makes me feel sick. I didn't feel like this with Sproglet - I would have handed him to anyone, I was so overwhelmed by motherhood first time round. Looking back I reckon I had post natal depression from the off - which I hid for fear of looking a failure. It took almost 18 months before I asked for help - as in, anti-depressant help. Now, I'm not depressed - in fact I'm pretty happy - but my god, I am knackered. My life feels like a whirl of getting everyone dressed and ready for the day, followed by getting my house ready for well - something - then getting everyone undressed and bathed and then staging a mini collapse on the sofa. Followed by a brief period of sleep and then it all starts again.
If I didn't have my nespresso machine, thrice weekly runs, my friend K for a gossip and my friend E for a weekly dinner, I think my head would explode. The other day Sproglet announced to me (when I asked him to pick up crayons he had spilled everywhere) 'I do EVERYTHING - why do I have to do it all?' !!!!!! I nearly threw him out a window. I explained calmly that in fact I did it all - and in that moment I realised how I get about 5 mins a day to myself if I am lucky. How little I actually do for myself. Like read. Watch tv. Mooch. I long to mooch. Sproglette has started to sleep longer (bless you solids - mind you the nappies equal out the horror at the other end) which means that although unpredictable - I can get stuff done. By stuff I don't mean a pedicure, a stroll round Covent Garden or anything of note - I mean I get to do more of the groundhog stuff. Phoning the bank, sending an ebay sale, buying endless gifts for some kid's party or other. Reminding myself we need a new chese grater. Exciting, earth shattering stuff like that.
Now if I return to work - in whatever form that is (I actually have my plan all worked out, but I'll keep it to myself for the mo) how will house maintain it's aura of cleanliness, Sproglet attend tennis on a Tues, swimming on a Fri - in the correct kits (which is important I reckon - googles on court won't help him a jot) - and we have a full fridge and enough clean pants? How do women work full time and juggle a house/laundry/husband/fridge etc? Every week I plan out our meals and it is the dullest, hardest quiz I have ever taken. What will Sproglet eat? What is healthy for me? His mate who eats fish fingers and sausages only, comes every Monday - so I guess that is fish fingers for tea - again. I feel like a genius when I have completed it. I was clearly born to be rich. Something went wrong somewhere. I am sure I was meant to have a housekeeper/nanny on tap. Oh my god, the thought of someone else doing my laundry just about gave me an orgasm... I should have married some banker wanker and had affairs with cute embryonic boys on the side... Anyway, what gives? Something has to give surely - we can't all hold down successful jobs, run a perfect house, raise polite snot-free kids and find time to tone our asses and made organic jam??? Maybe we have to sacrifice our asses, or tidy houses, or maybe we just forget people's birthdays and only have a fridge with rotting veggies in it. Who knows, but if anyone has any secrets on how to make this all go more smoothly - do share. Go on, please.
Meanwhile - something terribly exciting has happened. If you look over to the right you will notice I have an advert - for a fab company called Vacuum World. Check it out. My first advertisers. A landmark moment in the life of CM. Internet moguldom here I come! Better dash - got a child to throw an un-ironed school uniform onto. As a woman once said to me at his (then) nursery when I said I would be cutting his hair, 'Oh no - Sproglet wouldn't be Sproglet, if he wasn't a scruffbag.'
Brilliant. With me, ironing is what gives. Obviously.