I spend my whole life telling mums to go out and take time for themselves.
So practicing what I preached, I did just that and went to have a drink with my mate at her house after school last week.
I had the kids with me, they played Lord of the Flies and went feral with my mates’ kid while she and I chatted and laughed and had a great time. F*ck dinner, I thought, f*ck the house work, f*ck it all – I’m having “me time”.
So I messaged Denim that I wouldn’t be home in time to make dinner and he would have to.
I arrived home at around 7pm and of course the house was a mess. Denim had put the roast on and used every dish in the kitchen to figure it out.
I told him he could clean as well, because he needs to learn how to clean as you go so you’re not washing dishes until 9pm.
He and I had an argument over housework – I could tell he would do a shit job of the dishes and roast lamb needs elbow grease – so I stormed into bed telling him he could put Raja to bed, both of us too pissed off to do the next days’ school lunches.
Raja likes to sleep in the double bed, not his cot, but I don’t fall for that because he won’t sleep through unless he’s in the cot. Of course Denim does. So Raja goes to sleep in the double bed.
I’m woken up at 2am to him screaming for me, because nobody else will do. I go to him and try to sleep with him but he literally smells me still to this day and wants milk or something, god knows what, but he tosses and turns all night next to me.
Finally I fall asleep only to be woken up 30 minutes later by Billie-Violet yelling that it’s 8:30am!!!!!
I race around trying to get their f***ing lunches done – that’s 10 sandwiches because they have all decided they want two sandwiches with the crusts cut off – and even though I say “no more, you can have one sandwich and eat the bloody crust!” I can’t bring myself to not do it…every f***ing day.