Sometimes I am pretending to put the washing away upstairs. When really I am hiding watching Netflix praying no-one finds me.
Sometimes I only shave the bits that people can see. Like an ankle. If no-one can see it (and by no-one I mean like other women who may judge me. My poor husband doesn’t count). I don’t shave it.
Sometimes I serve my kids fruit whilst I hide in the kitchen eating a Crunchie bar.
Sometimes I lie there. Not breathing. Awake. But closing my eyes so my husband gets up with the kids.
Sometimes I pretend I have a ‘bad leg’ and can’t take the kids swimming after school on a Thursday so my husband does (god I hate swimming lessons).
Sometimes I say to the kids “research it and tell me and I will tell you if it’s right!”. When I literally have no f*cking clue what their homework means.
Sometimes if I make plans with friends. And they cancel at the last minute. I pretend to be really disappointed but secretly I am OVERJOYED at not having to leave the house.
Sometimes if I see a raisin on the floor I give it a swift kick under the couch rather than picking it up.
Sometimes. I eat it.
Sometimes I say “LET’S HAVE A MCDONALDS FOR TEA!” and make out like it’s a huge treat when in reality I am just desperate for a McFlurry.
Sometimes I say “amazing!” or “no way!” when I have absolutely no clue what my son is talking about.
Sometimes I tell the kids I will look after the contents of a party bag. And then proceed to eat it all after they have gone to bed terrified they will remember it exists. And Easter Eggs. And selection boxes.
Sometimes I pretend to be a bit cross my youngest wants to sleep in my bed at night when really I am happy to sniff him and escape my husband’s snoring.
Sometimes I pretend I am on the toilet doing a really big poo. I’m not. I’m staring at perfect people doing perfect things on instagram.
Sometimes I tell each child that they are my favourite but that they shouldn’t tell the other one as it will hurt their feelings.
Sometimes I encourage my children to say that I am better than Daddy.
Sometimes I clean my sink with a baby wipe.
Sometimes I clean my living room table with a baby wipe.
Sometimes I clean my privates with a baby wipe.
Sometimes I clean my kids shoes with a baby wipe (I lie. This one is ALWAYS).
Sometimes when my kids are taking ages to put their coats on for school. I secretly stick two fingers up at them behind my hand. Dead mature and all that.
Sometimes I do a little dance when the kids are finally asleep.
Sometimes I watch them when they are asleep and I stroke their head feeling a bit mopey about them growing up.
Sometimes I am SO CROSS with my husband about household chores that I can only communicate via angry emojis.
But equally sometimes I sit and watch two episodes of 90 Day Fiancé rather than actually doing any housework myself.
Sometimes I try to remember what life was like before having children.
I never wish I could go back to that. Imagine a life without baby wipes to clean with, where your legs had to be shaved n sh*t and you were expected to go out on a Friday night. Terrible.
