So, today, I have been contemplating how many people I can potentially ‘disappoint’ in the space of one day. The list is quite astounding. Today I am feeling the pressure. Today I no longer wish to ‘adult’. I want to run away.
If I list the jobs I undertook today – a ‘typical’ Monday in
the life of Julia; non-descript, suburban Mum of three.
Alarm clock.
Packed lunch entrepreneur (yes, entrepreneur – I do magic
with a cheese slice).
Hunter of the lost sock.
Feeder of felines.
Sole emptier of the litter tray.
Moaner to make children wake up, dress and look
semi-presentable for school.
Retriever of Friday’s discarded school uniform from the
washing basket (unwashed – of course), a quick shake, a febreeze and it’s good
for another week J
Co-ordinator of breakfast – i.e. make toast to eat in car
on way to school.
Director of bag packing.
Negotiator of BAD traffic and new detour that appeared
overnight.
Taxi service to the school gates.
Dropped car off to garage for attention to excessive
whine in back (even when kids AREN’T in car – and that was wHine – not wine).
Late to self-worth course (obviously don’t value myself
enough to be early).
Reinforced stuff that I know. Don’t have time to put me first really –
maybe I can reschedule the date with myself that I’ve been promising myself for
weeks.
Received hug from woman as wet as a weekend in Bognor,
who declared that she was thinking of me all week and however bad her life is,
at least she is comforted in knowing that she isn’t dealing with anywhere near
as much shit as me.
Felt like shit (made mental note that I don’t want to be
^that person – meaning the wet weekend, OR the person that others ‘feel sorry
for’).
Drove to Ralph’s.
Counselled him and talked him off the cliff. Listened to his rant.
Ranted with him.
Had a social worker visit – got angry. Bloody do-gooders.
Left to drive to solicitor.
Got arse chewed – need to be better ‘Mum’. More stern.
More tough. Bad Cop. F I R M.
Must spend 2 hours a night with youngest doing homework.
Can’t have life.
Must listen to monotone reading EVERY night for at least
half an hour…..
Need a plan for school.
Should be on top of things.
Should have plan in place to educate my children outside of school hours
when professionals that have been to University to be taught how to…….. well,
you know…. educate them.
Struggle with Year 7 Math homework. Can’t even pronounce some of the spelling
words.
Prepare meal that kids will push around the plate for ten
minutes, but not actually eat any of seeing as they polished off a whole bag of
Doritos prior to me coming home from work.
Listen to everyone moan about how much they hate the
sliver of onion / capsicum / tomato / LOVE that I put into their dinner.
Give up telling them that there are starving kids in the
world after youngest offers to post them tomorrow’s Doritos.
Start negotiating about homework. Kids are like terrorists. Before I realise it, I have agreed to a
sleepover and a trip to the movies in exchange for 10 math questions and
assignment prep.
Television goes off – tuneless inane singing starts.
2 hours to complete 10 questions.
Where’s the wine?
Take DD to dancing – forget about detour. 10 minute drive takes 30 minutes. Get home just in time to return back to dance
school to collect her.
Forgot kitchen looks like a war zone.
Start mentally preparing the children for heading
upstairs to bed.
Favourite TV programme comes on and finishes.
Shower, pyjamas, 30 minutes listening to youngest read.
30 minutes feels like 30 years (surely this book is on
DVD? NO! Bad parent!! Listen….. do NOT
day dream….). Made worse my knowing that
George Clooney film is on now – make that 40 years.
Need wine (badly).
Hang washing out that I put on last night. Smells slightly musty after sweating in the
machine all day – blame new fabric softener scent.
9pm – youngest comes downstairs for the third time to
tell me he loves me, or there’s a spot in his ear, or he’s worried about polar
ice caps melting, or ANYTHING to avoid going to bed.
Choses this exact moment to tell me he has been relentlessly bullied for 7
years. Why didn’t I know? Why haven’t I helped? Starts uncontrollably sobbing. Don’t say
anything to anyone – let alone a teacher – will only make things worse. Worry about how to address the situation.
Console sobbing child.
Don’t notice snot on shoulder.
Still need wine.
9.45pm finally sit down.
9.50pm - nod off on the sofa.
Wake up with dribble on the cushion and pins and needles.
Forget that the kitchen STILL looks like a bomb’s hit it L Load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen before
bed.
Watch cat silently MEOW in complaint as I left her
on the balcony – like the Marcel Marceau of the cat world. Decide to let her in – do NOT want to piss
the cat off; she is a force to be reckoned with.
Lay in bed worrying about child’s bullying, musty
washing, type of preservatives in cheese slices, number of chemicals I am
poisoning our home with my trying to keep my toilet rim squeaky clean and germ
free, where is that missing sock?
Sometimes I wish I was gravely stupid. Surely morons don’t go through life this badly stressed? Maybe I could have an IQ reduction. It works for boobs – why not brain cells? I wonder if the happiness of your life is directly correlational to your stupidity? Surely there’s a graph for that? If not, why not?
Consider applying to do a PhD on this exact topic……
probably need training for that…..too stupid…….but happy.
