Saturday, August 29, 2009

Girls are Messy

Ok, I'm not perfect. My dad bought me a painting once. A sofa, draped with books, cushions and a teacup on the floor: "Dull Women", the painting proclaims, "Have Immaculate Houses."
Thanks Dad! Such a compliment... at least I think it is.

My children are messy too. They put ME to shame. Today is the annual Massive Cleaning of Bedrooms. Wibs can do her own she announced. Ten minutes later it was finished,TEN MINUTES? Where was the washing? Hrmm. I checked to see, and couldn't open the door for a flip flop wedged under it. Purposely. "Itttttt ISSS DONNNNE!" Wibs yells. I leave he to it, and attack Bonny's room.

I can't begin to describe how appalling it is... Bonny cannot throw ANYTHING away. We used a whole roll of bin bags. Cans, plastic bottles, and an entire Bolivian rainforest worth of paper (lots of drawings and notes for friends - Heidi you are my BBF!) Packets of glitter on the rugs, boxes of beads popped open and emptied under the bed, half of M&S knicker dept stuffed down against the wall. Cd's, DVD's, Bratz dolls with their spooky missing feet, all jumbled together.

Wibs wanders in snootily later, wet haired and smudgy eyed from her bath in her silky pyjamas. "Poo" she says. "It smells." No sodding shit Sherlock.

Perhaps the scent was me, eau de non stop frigging toil. We put on an audio book so that we didnt have to talk to each other. I was ready to spiflicate the child.

I'm sat now, listening to the washing machine which was on its last legs anyway, groaning away as it spins its 7th load of the day. The clothes aren't dirty mostly ... they are clothes I have washed and ironed once, and left by her door "for hanging". Hanging! Ha, ha haaaa.

So, you get the children you make. I leave the dusting, I really can't be arsed. Better to read a book, play a game, paint a picture. It's my own fault.

I go out later for cigarettes. Driving home, its Vaughn Williams on the radio, and a MASSIVE moon, like a mother of pearl disc sliced precisely in half hangs over the estate. I can feel my frustration dissipating, then when I get in, Wibs has made me tea and Bonny kisses me a sorry.

Tomorrow I think, we'll get cracking on having fun instead.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Kids have the damnest ways of reminding us that we love them. Although that seems to change after you begin to overspoil the grandchildren :)