Once every six months or so I find myself doing my ‘rant’ at The Big Guy.
It goes a little something like this:
“I need you to help out more around the house. I DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE and you do NOTHING” – (Note, emphasis is on NOTHING).
Then I continue without drawing breath: “You NEVER see the mess. You NEVER put the dishes away, you NEVER put the clothes away, you NEVER do ANYTHING” – the capitals are emphasising how much I emphasise those words and if I was on the receiving end, I would be a little bit scared of the psycho version of me. I get a little bit fierce and go a lot of shades of whacko (anyone else do this?).
This rant is not entirely true however. He does a lot. I won’t go through it all but needless to say cooking and cleaning aren’t really high up on his list of ‘to do’s’. He does put the bins out without reminding, the recycling bin is always emptied, he baths the kids, drops them at school, does maths homework that I just don’t understand, the lawns are always done, the pool isn’t green (well not often) and he always takes at least 3 kids with him when he needs to leave the house and do chores. Overall, he’s a good guy but I do find myself having to remind him and the 6 others in this house that I’m not their full time slave. Part time I can cope with but full time slavery is just beneath me.
The argument ensues. You see, when I say NEVER, I mean “rarely” or “not as often as I would like” but I use NEVER for dramatic effect. When he hears NEVER, he thinks I mean NEVER and he then recalls one time 2 weeks ago on a Sunday when he emptied the dishwasher. He just forgets, pretends or ignores that it needs to be done 3 times every single day. The argument is then over, we don’t fight for long because we’re both too lazy to keep it up (how some people can not talk for days is beyond me, it must be so tiring).The Big Guy then becomes acutely aware of the ‘chores list’ and helps out for a week or so to keep me off his case and we go back to normal for 3 months till my next meltdown. This, is how we roll. We’ve done it for 12 years and I don’t think it’s going to change.
I’m in the middle of that meltdown this week but only because it’s holidays and we mothers do tend to go a little mental on day 1, 2 and 3 of holidays before we learn to ‘chill’ a little. Our peace and quiet, our tidy homes, up to date washing, our working from home mojo is ruined and our pantries are stripped BARE. Today alone, the 5 cherubs ate a weeks worth of snacks before 10am. I am not exaggerating. I don’t know what’s happened to them but they’re animals, feral, feral animals.
Naturally this is all being exacerbated by my first world problem that we’re going away next week and we have to pack, sort out the messy house, clear our fridges and then tidy up for the frigging cleaners so they can vacuum up the 40 million pieces of popcorn on the floor once we leave. Packing for yourself is hard enough but packing for 7 people who are going to the snow for 7 days could be an Olympic sport, it requires thought, planning, training and impeccable execution to get it right. There is no end to the amount of ‘stuff’ you need to take to the snow. We have to take an extra car just for the luggage. It’s an epic battle between suitcase, zippers and car boot tetris and strangely a bigger battle on the trip home. Naturally the Mum is the only one who gets stressed when going away. In my house at least, I’m the only one thinking ahead and mentally planning what needs to be done ALL this week to get this lot on holiday. The Big Guy will think about it the night before we leave, ensure we have enough chargers for iPhone’s and ithingy’s, Apple TV and the like and fill up the car with petrol and bags and he’s ready to go. Simple. He doesn’t understand why I get antsy and stressed out. This is all whilst telling the kids each year they’re going to LOVE ski school and you know very well they’re going to hate every minute of it and beg to come with Mum and Dad for a few runs. All the while I’m simply thinking about that few minutes of silence going up the mountain on the chairlift when it’s just you, the air and no one trying to get into the pantry, tug on my knees or dob that Mr 4 is doing something wrong again. It’s pure bliss. Almost better than the actual skiing, almost.
I was about to do my psycho routine again tonight until I realised I have four thousand reasons to chill out and stop bitching and moaning about being everyone’s slave.This week my cousin, who lives in the USA, posted to Facebook that she was heading to a Lionel Ritchie concert in July and would anyone like to come? My sister and I jokingly replied that naturally we’ll be there and will take our private planes. Within 3 hours, the Big Guy had booked me a ticket with my youngest cherub to the USA for 9 whole days a week after the ski trip, he delivered the news with the words “you deserve it”. He’s staying home to be the slave, taxi driver, cook and cleaner for a week. It appears he appreciates the slavery more than I gave him credit for, and I’m looking forward to hearing how he copes upon my return!
Happy Holidays Mamas!
NEXT POST WILL BE 10 THINGS MEN SHOULD NOT SAY TO THEIR WIVES AFTER THEY RETURN FROM HOLIDAYS.