Groundhog day...

Britney Spears recently described her life as like a Groundhog Day. I know how she feels. OK, so I don't know what it's like to be a millionaire trapped in my own home due to being stalked by paparazzi and not being able to trust a soul, but I know how she feels about every day feeling the same.

It was my birthday yesterday and I had lots of lovely cards from friends (one from far away made me cry) and some beautiful presents.
Husband had asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I replied, 'your time'.

Of course I love the Kurt Geiger motorbike boots, the Burts Bees body butter for my wizened old hands, the Caroline Herrera perfume and the Lionel Shriver book he bought me, such wonderful gifts, but then he left for work as always at 7.30am.
I made children's breakfast.
I got us all dressed.
I took eldest girl to school.
I went to meet friends for a cuppa in a cafe.
I spent an hour trying to entertain a two year old in a cafe without her causing much damage. She did well, she only spilt the sugar on the floor and smeared jam all over the place. Result. No having to pay for any breakages.
I went to pick daughter up from school at lunchtime.
I made lunch for us all.
I cleared up lunch and breakfast stuff.
I put little girl to bed for an hour.
I made beds, cleared away clothes, unloaded dishwasher.
I uummmmed and aahhed about how to entertain the girls for the afternoon.
We went to the schools Christmas fair.
We came home.
I made the their tea.
I cleared up their food, and tidied the kitchen.
I got the hoover out and sucked up all the crumbs.
I shook the cushions, put the toys away.
Its 6.30pm. The husband comes home from work.
The kids go wild for half an hour.
We go upstairs, we bath them, we read them a story. They are in bed.
It's 7.45pm.
I call a takeaway.
He collects it.
We eat it.
I am tired.
I take a camomile tea and the paper up to bed and watch Gavin & Stacey.
I go to sleep.
Something similar happens Monday to Friday, and now, thanks to him playing football, on a Saturday.

This morning I was allowed a post birthday lie in. Until 9am. We all get dressed and go to do the weekly shop. I usually shop without him. He is more of a handful than the kids. Husband gets annoyed if people don't walk in a straight line, or if people suddenly stop and dare look at say, the satsumas. There is a lot of muttering under the breath from him. We have to whizz around the shop in approximately 5 minutes in the style of Lewis Hamilton. He gets cross that the girls are all over the place and getting attracted by small sparkly sweets or big large cookies. He huffs and puffs and says to split up, he will be quicker on his own.
We meet at the checkout about 3 minutes later. I look in the trolley. We have fruit and veg, two packs of mince and not much else. 'What are we actually going to be eating this week? We don't even have the meat for the roast tomorrow!' I fume. It takes twice as long as we have to go back and get ingredients for proper meals to eat in the week. Then I show him a bag I was thinking of getting with my birthday money from my mum and grandma. He buys it for me.
We get back in the car. I see him muttering 'Damn' under his breath as he's about to get back in the car and I notice he is getting annoyed by a man who is reversing slowly out of a parking spot, delaying us by approximately 5 seconds.
'Well, this has been nice.' I mutter with heavy sarcasm.
'Don't start. I just bought you that bag. You are so ungrateful.' He retorts. I knew I would pay for the bag in other ways...
'You are like a divorced father trying to buy me off with expensive things to keep me quiet when all I want is YOU. When you are older, and the kids have grown up, you will probably look back on this time and say, I wish I'd spent more time with the kids. Last weekend you were away from Friday morning to Sunday afternoon on a stag do and now we are rushing back for you to go and play football. I just feel like we hardly ever see you.' I moan.
'I have to work to pay for the mortgage. And just because you don't have any hobbies you resent me for having one. I NEED my four hours of football a week, to get a release from working all week.'
Me quietly, 'When do I get a release?'
Him angrily, 'You chose to be a full time mum.'
And that's the answer I get to everything.Every time I say, I need a break, I am a bit lonely or I have had enough of doing the housework. So, how do I respond to that? I wouldn't have it any other way. I know how lucky I am to have my children and be able to spend this precious time with them. Even if the littlest has just thrown a lipstick at me in a tantrum.

Now it's Saturday afternoon, he's having a great old time playing football and I have just...
Made children's lunch
Made my lunch
Put youngest child to bed
Now I need to decide what to do for the rest of the afternoon.
Then I will cook their tea.
Then he will come home,
Then we will bath the children,
Then we will read them a story,
Then we will put them to bed,
Then we will order a takeaway,
He will go and get it,
We will eat it,
I will take a camomile tea to bed and watch the X Factor result show,
Then I will go to sleep.
Repeat to fade...

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me...

Let's Talk About Sex...

On the girls night out, well I say girls, I mean ladies I suppose. Oh. Now that makes me feel old. Anyway, on our night out I noticed we spent a lot of time discussing sex.
When we used to get together on boozy nights out pre-marriage the discussions would go like this...
'I wonder when he's going to ask me to marry him?'
'I wonder if he is EVER going to ask me to marry him?'
'I would ideally like a full carat...'
'I like the names Daisy and Oscar. He likes the names Kate and Harry. Is it a sign?'
We talked about weddings, babies, houses, work (note - houses and work, not housework which is what we discuss regularly now. Saddos that we are). We didn't really talk about sex, probably because we were all doing it.
In the shower before work.
In the afternoons whilst watching an old black and white movie.
On the stairs when we got in from a night out.
Over the sink whilst we were brushing our teeth.

Now, post babies, all married for three years or more we talk about supermarkets, cleaning, schools and sex. Mainly the lack of it.
We all have children under 5.
One friend has sex as often as we have a birthdays.
One friend has sex twice a week. Because she feels like she has to or her husband sulks, so she kind of sees it as getting it out of the way, in much the same way as doing the coloured wash.

So, did we leave our sex drives in the side cabinet next to the hospital bed when we went in to have our babies?

If so, we need to go back and see if we can find 'em because we want to get our Mojo back. We miss our sex drives!!

Other People's Children...

We have just had one of eldest daughters friends from school for lunch.
She told me I looked like a toilet.
A standing up toilet.
With hair and eyebrows.
She'd been in my house approximately 4 minutes.
She informed me she didn't eat crusts.
She didn't like cucumber.
She didn't like salt and vinegar crisps because they are too spicy.(what??)
She asked for some cheese.
I gave her some cheese.
She then said she was tricking me and didn't like cheese.
I smiled sweetly.
I found alternative crisps and gave her a small handful, the amount I allow my children. She soon asked for more, I gave her more. She then asked for more. I lied. I said they'd all gone. She looked me in the eye and was silently saying, I know you are lying because I can see the pack up there. She decided to let it go. She was wise.
She told me off for eating with my mouth open. I responded by saying, well you are talking with your mouth full. I was reverting into a bit of a child myself by this point.
She also informed me my sitting room was tiny (she's right, it's a Victorian terrace. They built 'em small in the old days for warmth. Not so suitable for the noughties open plan obsession).
She said her trampoline was bigger than ours.
She said our downstairs loo was small.
I offered her a choccie bun and said I was naughty as I'd already had one.
She said that meant I was greedy.
By this time I had no responses.
There is nothing like the truth that a four year old speaks.
So to sum up, I am a greedy toilet who lives in a teeny house with an even smaller trampoline.
I didn't realise that I had to keep up with four year old Joneses.
My self confidence is in tatters.

The Old Me...

The old me...
* wore matching underwear
* shaved her legs every day
* blow dried my long hair down every other day
* dressed in designer clothes with a mix of high street
* had my eyelashes tinted and eyebrows shaped once a month
* got my hair cut and coloured every six weeks
* moisturised my elbows
* had manicures
* went for naughty sun beds

The now me
* still wears maternity bras some days for comfort (I quickly take them off before husband comes to bed so he won't find out)
* if I ever get around to wearing matching underwear I get a 'you seeing your fancy man today?' from the husband
* buys clothes with the food shopping (ie Marks and Spencer)
* uses baby lotion as my main moisturiser
* has chipped toe nail varnish that has not been applied since summer hols, so nearly outgrown
* has a t-section every couple of months and puts off having the hair cut because I feel guilty spending husbands hard earned cash on a fancy do.
* shaves once a week, if I manage to get a bath alone, without a child dangling their fingers in or trying to wash my boobs with a sponge.

This week, I went to a pamper evening, a school event, I had a facial, a massage, a manicure, my eyebrows threaded. Then I bought I dress. Then I went out with the girls, I was asked by some other girls if I was 24?! I am 34. It was dark in there.
I danced. I drank shots. I was sick. I had fun. My littlest child is 2 and I am coming out the other side of the fog. I think I almost feel human again. OK, so the manicure is now chipped, the leg hair is growing back and a few eyebrows are already sprouting out. But it's a start...

Randoms

I have been tagged by Nappy Valley and Tarte Tartan, two of my lovely fellow bloggers to tell some random things about myself. So, here goes...

1. I am a terrible hypochondriac. Currently I have an annoying neck ache and feel a bit dizzy. I obviously think I have a neck tumour with 6 months to live. More likely explanation, trapped nerve and need more sleep. Other ailments I have suffered from in the past - brain tumour (headache), leukemia (bruise), meningitis (heat rash), Deep Vein Thrombosis (leg ache), appendicitis (a stitch)...you get the idea...

2. My dad worked in a sweet factory. I blame him for my penchant for a piece of chocolate after every meal (including breakfast), as he used to bring home samples. For years I believed he painted smarties for a living, it was a bitter disappointment when I found out he was actually an engineer and bought in machinery to make Easter eggs.

3. My mum lives in Carol Voderman's old house.

4. I am the product of a broken home. I am not a mass murderer, drug addict or anything else that I am supposed to be coming from a single parent family.

5. I didn't breast feed my children. The shame.

6. I did give birth at home. The pain.

7. I have been told I look like Alice from the Vicar of Dibley, Dani Behr, Tori Spelling, Tess Daly, Sienna Miller and Sarah Beeney. I wish I looked like Sienna Miller, I probably look most like Alice from the Vicar of Dibley.



So to pass the baton on, I will tag Mom/Mum wars and Millennium Housewife.