Some days being a stay at home mum is brilliant. You make a dinosaur out of boxes, build forts out of sofa cushions and make picnic lunches to eat surrounded by lego.
Other days it is the school run, toddler group or the food shop.
Or some days it is like today…a 6 am wake up from a grumpy, teething, 18 month old who just wants to live on wotsits and yogurt, followed by an overtired nearly 4 year old who must watch dinosaur surprise eggs on Youtube immediately.
God, mornings like that are the worst start to the day cos I know they are going to whinge, argue and bicker through the whole day. It’s days that consist of that (where the sound of your own voice telling them off AGAIN is the most annoying thing in the world) that show that being at home all the time is harder work than the 9-5 routine.
When I had a regular job I loved the train commute home so I could read, have some down time and relax before dinner. My home was spotless. My weekends were my own. And I thought then that I was tired after work.
Now my days are longer, even when the boys are in bed there are still jobs to do (not to mentioned my writing work). I fight a losing battle on the house, and my to-do list seems longer than ever.
But it is this moment in the evening, with my cuppa and choc and that I think ‘God. I’m bloody lucky. And I am so grateful to have my family. And that they are asleep’.
Long live sleep!
Little House of Words 