Winning at life…..?

Do you ever feel like you’ve woken up feeling in control of everything?  You know what you’re doing, where you’re doing it, how you’re doing it and how you expect it to go. 

That was me this morning. I made a list, (I’m known for a list or two).


I had the entire house to clean, two loads of washing to do (which included bedding), a stinky hamster to clean out, and two children to keep alive feed, water and stop from battering each other. 
The first two hours not only went rather fast, leaving me feeling like I was more than likely still going to be doing the downstairs come 8pm, but also, made me realise what my body (yes my body) would rather have been doing. Sitting. Relaxing. Watching films with the kids. Sunbathing in the garden while they played etc.  Anything but this. 

At 12 i managed to remember to feed the little horrors darlings, and even managed to stand and eat with one hand,while cleaning the worktops with the other, while attempting not to cry at the new mess I’d created. 

Once that was done and I’d wasted more time rotating the ridiculous amount of washing I’d done,  and my body ached beyond measure, I started to feel a little overwhelmed. 

It took a large amount of pep talking myself (“you can do this/the house needs to be clean/you have no other day to do it this week so it HAS to be done now”) to even make it upstairs to continue, and within half an hour, I realised (while my hand was down the toilet-gloved, don’t panic) that the little ones were a tad too quiet. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love quiet. The kind that comes with the husband being home and taking the kids out, so the quiet is from an empty house. NO good ever came from kids being quiet. 

                                             
I rushed back down to find the eldest on his tablet-hurrah!  Breathing a sigh of relief because I thought I’d found the reason for the silence, I suddenly remembered I have two children and quickly located my youngest child. 

KILL. ME. NOW

Let’s just say in my head, I’d lost the plot. In there, I was swearing, screaming, shouting, crying, rocking in a corner, smashing my head against the wall (you get the jist). On the outside though, I was one cool mummy. 

“Darling, mummy has already tidied this room-would you mind not getting ALL your puzzles out at once?”

After establishing she hadn’t got them ALL out, because there were still two in the toy box (shes so helpful and forthcoming with information isn’t she), I asked her to tidy them up. It only took three requests and a threat of me hoovering them up but it worked! (That’s a win for me yeah?)

Towards the end of the day, tiredness had set in, for all of us.  I ached, the kids had turned into monkeys, and i still had to steam the floors. 

I got the kitchen cleaner out of the cupboard and as I did, 8 bottles of various cleaners fell out across the already swept floor. That’s fine, when they’re all closed bottles of cleaner. Shall i tell you when it’s not fine? 

When amongst the 8 bottles of cleaner, is an opened bag of dishwasher salt. On its side. Open side down. 

We all waved goodbye to “cool, calm and collected mummy”. She left quite quickly and in her wake, left behind, “LOST THE PLOT MUMMY”. 

I’m unsure if it’s only me that’s screamed obscenities at a cupboard? I’ll assume for now that it is. It didn’t help. The salt didn’t miraculously disappear when i yelled, banshee style. It didn’t pick the 8 bottles up, and it didn’t close the cupboard. It did however make me feel a tad better and it was clearly all I needed to shake off the urge to give up, and I managed to find the last bit of energy I needed to steam the floor. 

I didn’t pick the salt up. I just steamed over it. I wasn’t being beaten by salt. And now that patch of floor is even shinier than the rest!

I definitely won. 

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