It’s been too long between Kerri Sackville posts. Today, she needs to confess a few things to lighten her load….
I’ve heard many a story about an unfaithful wife confessing all to her husband to ease her guilty conscience. It doesn’t necessarily make her poor cuckolded husband feel better, but it takes a big weight off her shoulders.
Well, I’m not having an affair (though if I was, I suspect I wouldn’t confess to it in an online blog). However, I do have a confession to make. Several, actually.
I lie in the course of duty. All the time.
Now, when I say ‘in the course of duty’, I’m not talking about my work as a writer. Everything I have ever written here or anywhere else, is true, with not even a shred of exaggeration. Nor do I lie in the course of my work around the house, except in the sense of being prostrate upon the floor, drumming my heels, and weeping pitifully at the amount of mess surrounding me. (Okay, so maybe a touch of exaggeration, but only a touch.)
No, when I lie is in the course of my duties as a wife and mother. And, to my great shame, which I hope here to ease, I do it rather frequently. (Okay, okay! I do it very frequently. This exaggeration habit is hard to break.)
I lie in many ways, sometimes to protect someone else, but usually, I admit, to protect myself. For example:
• I will, when particularly tired, agree with my daughter that the miniscule scratch on her leg is very serious, and that she can’t possibly be allowed to go to her swimming lesson. I will also earnestly explain the same to the swimming teacher the following week, in the hope of being granted a make-up lesson, which we will not attend anyway as we can’t be bothered.
• I will pretend to the cashier that I have no idea how Toddler got her hands on that half-eaten Kinder Surprise, when five minutes earlier I distinctly heard her say “Mama, I go get choccie!”
• I tell my kids I’m working when I’m actually Twittering.
• I tell my husband I’m Twittering when I’m looking up images of Simon Baker.
• I tell Toddler that the lollies in the pharmacy are medicine and that she won’t like them. This causes the occasional confusion when she sees Daddy eating jelly beans. “What wrong Daddy? You eat medicine?”
• I tell my mother I am extremely strict about what my children watch on TV. And I am. They are not allowed to watch pornography, or anything at all with Nigella Lawson.
• I tell my husband I have ‘played with the kids non-stop all day’, when in fact I made them come out grocery shopping with me, and then let them play Nintendo.
• I set my kids bedside clocks a bit early, so that when they wake at 6.30 (the time they’re allowed to rise) they think it’s only 6.20 and stay in bed for an extra ten minutes. And in case you’re wondering, this doesn’t make me feel guilty. It makes me feel more rested.
• I lie about the reasons I am late. I blame my son (lost his shoes, left his homework inside, last minute poo), my daughter (lost her hairbrush, fell over walking out the door, last minute poo), even the toddler (hid my keys, spilt her juice all over herself, last minute poo). In 99% of cases, we are late because I didn’t get my act together.
• I tell my husband I have a headache. This is an act of sensitivity and generosity, as it is much kinder than telling him the prospect of sex that night is extraordinarily unappealing.
So that’s it. Of course, there are one or two more, but I’d still like to keep some secrets up my sleeve.
Okay, OKAY! I admit it! There are dozens more. Can’t a girl exaggerate a little now and again???
Care to make any motherhood (or other) confessions of your own?
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