Signs I might need to go back to work
Endless baking of biscuits/cakes for sales, raffles & playgroups.
An obsessive stockpiling of dried & tinned goods.
The inability to relax in the evening if the annoying little plastic toys are not put away in the correct basket.
The ‘beat the microwave’ game whereby I set myself a challenge (eg. Unload the dishwasher) that I must perform before the microwave beeps.
The exultation when I ‘beat the microwave’
The sorrow when I do not.
The humiliation when my husband catches me attempting to ‘beat the microwave’. (“erm…what are you doing darling?”. Awkward.)
Spelling out messages with alphabetti letters on my kids’ tea plates.
Initialling their porridge with honey.
Organising my children’s social life as if I was their PA (call to make date, confirm by text, send reminder on the morning of the date)
Constantly volunteering to help out at school, Pre-School and on various committees.
Tidying the recycling tubs
My steam mop.
Rewind. It’s December 2010. I have just had ‘The Baby’. I have three Pre-Schoolers at home. There are some long, dark days. In my sleep-deprived, exhausted little mind there is a dim flame in the distance. “September 2013″ it tells me. I’ll have two at school and one in Pre-School. I’ll be able to sleep. To brush my hair. I might smell nice. I’ll be able to see friends without having them cuddle me pityingly. September 2013 became my mantra for a while.
And now it’s nearly here. “I didn’t mean it” I want to shout. I’m waiting for confirmation of the Fusspot’s school place. I’ve just handed in an application for The Baby’s Pre-School place.
September 2013 is galloping towards me too quickly thank you very much.
And now the house is a little quieter. And a lot cleaner. The washing is
occasionally contained within the washing basket. I know where things are. I’m on time for things. I get to go away with the girls. I occasionally get to urinate on my own.
And so my thoughts turn to what next for me. I can’t stay in the house steam-mopping and racing my microwave. That’s how you go crazy. Maybe I will write that book after all…
He has gone on his annual diet. Like some sort of lard counter-balance I immediately start craving rich cheesy food. I make these amazingly, delicious Gnocchi from Joanne Harris’s ‘French Kitchen’ -A wonderful book with lovely homely French recipes. Do try them. Here is the recipe.
Sad to report that my microwave beeped a few minutes ago. God dammit …