I know everyone has these days. Its January. Its raining. My guttering is leaking and dripping with annoying regularity at my office window. I have been sat here for an hour. Doing nothing.
I am supposed to be doing my accounts which, I know its unusual, I normally love. I enjoy the peace and quiet as I make sense of my business finances. I find it gives me great clarity and I much prefer to acquire this knowledge than pay someone else to do it for me.
However, this morning is just one of those mornings. The house is a mess, the list of mediocre household chores is overwhelming and I have yet to put a final top coat on my 11 primed and undercoated exterior windows that are currently exposed to the wet, wet, wet, weather. This alone is haunting me.
I have started exercising again which feels good and my new 2016 food choices are making me feel really healthy (no sugar, no dairy, no gluten) and I have started the ‘construction’ element of my course which I find fascinating, but I cant shake the feeling that I am just going around in circles.
I have come to the conclusion that it must stem from being a working mother. I would consider myself to be a woman of the times, expectant of gender equality but sadly not expectant of any chivalry (not in this house anyway) yet whilst I maintain more than my half of the bank balance I still feel as confined as if I were an 18th Century housewife. The tasks that are performed before the school run (whilst my husband enjoys an extra hour in bed, daily) are so routine that I could do them in my sleep, yet some days they exhaust me…….the early morning emptying of the dishwasher, making the children’s breakfast, lovingly putting it on the table with a glass of milk (and the ipad so that I can ‘enjoy my cup of tea in the bath’) Then once I am washed and dressed, clearing up after the children, occasionally hoovering up after the dog, getting the children dressed, hair brushed, teeth cleaned and book bags organised (whilst husband helps himself to breakfast and enjoys it in the living room away from the ‘hussle’ and ‘bussle’ and occasional swear words from me. Finally, shoes and coats and JUST GET ‘IN’ THE CAR before husband deposits his dirty bowl in the clean sink (even though the dishwasher has just been emptied) half full of uneaten porridge and goes to leave for work.
Then I am alone. Peaceful except for the drip drip drip on my window pane and the near to exploding brain full of lists of more chores to do once my ‘paid work’ is done and the children have been collected from school. Lists so full that every time I pass a job it hurts a little…….2 laundry baskets full to bursting of FOUR PEOPLEs clean clothes that have been sat on the landing for nearly a week yet I know they wont be emptied until I do it, a living room covered in toys and BITS of toys, sofa covers that were whisked off the sofa 5 days ago because husband spilled some gravy on them (and tried to sit down on the stain before I would notice it). Sofa covers, I might add, that I brought made to measure, to cover a lovely old victorian sofa, that I also brought, that have been dry now for 4 days yet still hang over a clothes horse in the living starring at me each time I try to relax. And the dog needs a walk.
I know that the only thing that would make me feel better was if I had a whole uninterrupted day to clean the house and catch up with all these chores but I need the school hours for bringing in my (more than half) of the bacon.
To top the cake, my children absolutely, categorically, INHUMANLY adore me. It must be ME who puts them to bed (unless I am physically out of the house), ME who brushes their teeth at night, ME who reads them their night time story and ME who gets up to tend to them at night.
I love my family, I love my kids, I love my house, I love my work. I just cant keep up. Maybe I should have done the ironing this morning instead….