I have just heated up my second cup of coffee for the day in the microwave…I know…yuck.
My head is pounding, my jeans are too tight (period bloat surely… it can’t be that packet of pizza shapes I devoured last night?). I’m busting for a wee but can’t be bothered moving (be good to me pelvic floors, be good to me).
I’m hungry and I’m annoyed because my radio keeps cutting out and I’m trying to listen to Fox RnB Friday. There is a pile of dishes in the sink calling my name, I haven’t changed the sheets on our bed for at least two weeks (ok it’s more like five but whose counting?), the toilet floor needs mopping (hastily cleaning up a five-year-old boy’s bad aim with a sheet of toilet paper really isn’t the best hygiene practice now is it?) and the only reason I have ten minutes to sit and write this is because Stella is glued to The Wiggles and I have allowed Lenny to play Minecraft on my iPhone (I said he could play for ten minutes….it’s been at least thirty I’m sure).
It’s really not hard to admit that some days….I don’t want to be the adult. I don’t want to be responsible for the kids, the house, the husband, the pets (OK we don’t actually have any pets, but next doors cat regularly visits our pergola and poos in our front garden so surely that counts for something)
Some days I don’t want to be on the parent working committee, I don’t want to be
responsible for updating the local sporting clubs website, I don’t want to have to think about what’s for dinner, I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to do the grocery shopping, I don’t want to give up my Saturday tomorrow to go to some child’s birthday party that I don’t even know and I certainly do not want to change another one of Stella’s huge shitty nappies.
Some days I just want to lie in and hide under my doona without someone screaming my name and jumping on me, some days I just want to be able to go to the toilet by myself without having an entourage of poo enthusiasts tagging along behind me and some days I just want to eat Nutella straight out of the jar without having to hide in the pantry, my inner Michelle Bridges yelling “Nooooo!” as I savor each delicious mouthful.
*Snapped out of blogging thoughts by the sound of the toilet flushing…*
“MUMMMMM! I’M FINISHED! Can you come and check my butt and make sure I haven’t buttered myself?”
Whaaaaat!?? Buttered?!!! Oh my goodness! What even is that?? Urghhhhh! I DON’T WANT TO ADULT TODAY!!!
But of course, I’m the Mum, so I have to adult today…
“I’m coming buddy….”