Yesterday Dave was off shooting a video from 6am and I was given the task of getting my shit together for two kids, who needed to be at two different schools, 10 kms apart, at the same time.
So what? You say.
Yeah. I take medication to sleep. I’m legit half baked every morning until about 9am, after it wears off.
So I got up when Dave left, and hoped to fuck it had worn off by the time I got the kids up.
Yep, it worked but then the day stretched out like a punishment of mid morning pickups for the teen post exams, doctor visits, chemist trips, supermarket visits, trips to the school, then back again, then off to cricket training, then making dinner, getting washing off the line and other such bullshit.
No, there was no writing done. No, there were no emails answered.
I was being a stay at home Mum for the day.
Christ it’s arduous isn’t it? I resigned myself to the fact that no writing would be done, and handed myself over to mumming for the day. I even put on some talk back radio for about ten minutes, until it made me want to drive my car into oncoming traffic.
My point is that nothing about being stay at home mother is for you. This is why some women want/need to go back to work after they have kids. Nothing you do as a stay at home mother is for you. NOTHING.
You are a saint with a martyr filling.
I always used to laugh when I heard the grand plans of women who were pregnant and what they would do when they had the baby. ‘I’m going to sew, do some gardening, finally write that book I’ve been thinking about.’
Maybe your could sew the McCalls “Stay at Home” shift dress above. Natty little number, huh?
So, today, I write.
*does happy dance*
Happy Wednesday muthas!