Sunday, 27 March 2011

Mostly Sunday

By definition, you are doing something the wrong way if you are not doing it the way that I do it. I think that is fairly obvious. It's not like I'm perfect, obviously, it's just that if I thought I was doing something the wrong way I would change my methods.

I only say that because having a manny about the house in the form of K, although helpful, means that a lot of things are being done 'the wrong way'. Washing is being put in with minimal consideration for colour running, the dishwasher is being stacked incorrectly, food is being put into the fridge ridiculously wrongly (potatoes on top of tomatoes in the wrong drawer, raw meat on top of open packets of cooked meat etc etc) and things are being put away in all the wrong places so that I can't find anything. I am not OCD - as discussed earlier it is too much hard work - but I have been used to being the head of my house for such a long time that I have become very bad at sharing. Ironically I have moaned at him for years and years to help me more with all the housework and childcare and now that he is, I am moaning about him doing it differently to me. Which means only one thing too hideous to even comprehend - I AM my mother. There is now no denying it. Any minute now I'll be telling Bea not to eat so much she's getting fat whilst feeding the boys chocolate in front of her.

I have made a concerted effort not to moan too much this weekend though, as I am genuinely loving having him at home. Life is so much nicer as a full time, two parent family. I can totally understand why the long term unemployed stay that way. K is so relaxed and far happier away from the stresses of work and I am relaxed and less tired having all this help - it's like a holiday without all the hard work and hassle of holidays (we went camping in rainy England last year with a crawling Ted who slept less than he does now - it was an endurance test NOT a holiday). I am now seriously investigating how many children and exactly how bad K's back would have to be before we can get enough benefits to afford for K to never go back to work. If I could manage to have quads soon I think that would seriously strengthen our case. Although it might also strengthen K's resolve to get back to work and then leave me at home with all seven and in need of prozac.

Sundays are a totally different ball game these days. Back in the bad old days of work, K regularly had to work Saturdays which meant Sundays became hideously high pressured with us both trying to cram in getting our weekly 'rest' plus time as a family, socialising and not forgetting any DIY. Now it's just another day to fill as we please and today was filled with lots of sleep (hoorah!), time in the garden, a trip to the local park and a roast chicken - perfick. I may change my tune in another week but for now, everyone seems to be far happier with the new set up. I suppose the change in weather does also help. Being couped up in the house together for seven days a week would have produced a very different outcome.

I am beginning to sound smug. Totally revolting. I shall ensure that something crap happens this week which sends me back to my more cynical self. I can't stand people who are happy all the time, it is a most unnatural state and quite unnerves me. Oooh actually I am just about to tell K he is in charge of filling in our census. That should help. I am also pretty excitable this evening because I have high hopes for sleep tonight, not only because of all the fresh air and the clocks leaping heroically forward for me but because Ted discovered a taste for Medised at bedtime and has definitely ingested more than is intended for someone six times his size. I shall check he is breathing regularly before I go to bed - fear not. I am going to have a glass of wine in anticipation of all my sleep. Double hoorah!

Chin chin and down the hatch x

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