Home is where the hell is

I used to like housework. Not in a OCD kind of way, more that it's a job where you see good results at the end – a sparkling bathroom, a gleaming kitchen, a fresh scent in the air. I always got a great sense of achievement from giving the house a good scrubbing.

Since I had kids it has become a war. A battle that I constantly lose and makes me feel so depressed. It brings me a whole heap of stress and all in all, it plain sucks.

I have to admit it wasn't so bad when I had a baby or just one child. While I was tired, there was always a moment to clean the house and have it stay that way for a short time at least. Now, with two kids running around there is A LOT of mess and no time to clean it. Smears on the walls, grimy fingerprints on the cupboard, squashed sultanas in the carpet, etc, etc, etc. Within moments of mopping something up yet another cleaning catastrophe occurs.

When I attempt to clean a room, the kids are destroying another room somewhere in the house, so it's often a futile attempt. While I clean I feel guilty that I have to get them watching TV or something while I do it.

I briefly had a cleaner and it was nice having the house clean for, oh about 25 minutes. Surely enough within the hour of arriving home a child would have spilt a drink requiring the mop to be dragged out. Crumbled up a cracker requiring the vacuum to make an appearance. So, it seemed silly to be forking over cash when I was having to do the same thing within hours of the cleaner being here.

I hate having a house that's a bit grubby around the edges. That's messy and disorganised. I know it shouldn't, but I often feels that it reflects back on me. My failure. My ineptitude at being a good housewife.

Skip does his best, but he's at work 12 hours a day.

All this was going round my head that past two days as I've been giving the house a really good clean (yes, it took me two days).  I finally finished my epic clean and decided to give a final vacuum. I finished vacuuming my bedroom and went to the girls' room. It had been completely destroyed. Every single toy pulled out of their toy cupboard, all the bedding pulled off their beds, they'd even taken all their clothes off. Firstly I was impressed that they'd managed so much destruction is such a short time – my bedroom is quite pokey and quite quick to vacuum. I didn't know whether to yell, scream or cry. I think I did a combination of all three.

I know it's such a first world whine, but I'm sure that for a lot of mums, dad, wives, husbands, that this domestic dullness is a big stress. I'm just trying to find a way to lessen the stress. I try not to worry, but I do. I know it won't last forever, but for the moment it drives me crazy.

Does housework stress you out? Do you have a secret? Or do you just not worry about it? I would love to hear about it!

PS  – After worrying about this all yesterday, I had some news that stopped me in my tracks and made me realise that my worry was insignificant. Thankfully, everything turned out OK, but I do realise how good my life can be.

Rainbow

Today I feel like I need to see a rainbow...

Birthday bliss

As I've mentioned, I never used to be that fond of birthdays. This year may have changed all that for good. This year I was surrounded by some of my favourite people, who spoiled me rotten. I had a few celebrations too which stretched out the fun.

It was wonderful to spend precious time with my nearest and dearest and eat, drink and laugh. It was such a sweet surprise to receive some truly lovely, thoughtful gifts from some dear friends. 

It was lovely to spend the day with my gorgeous girls, though they did run me ragged on a trip to the aquarium.

It was blissful to spend rare time alone with Skip. Who completely outdid himself and spoiled me with some very thoughtful, luxurious gifts.

All in all, I felt extremely special and very loved, which was the best birthday pressie of all. Mothering can be a lonely gig sometimes and I have found that it's easy to forget there are a whole heap of people out there who care for you. This birthday was a nice reminder that I'm incredibly blessed with an incredible family and fabulous friends.

The Vietnamese clan have jetted home and so life feels like it's getting back to normal. Time to get back to day-to-day reality.

This morning I've scrubbed floors and cupboards, in an attempt at an early spring clean. I think this is going to continue for the rest of the week as I feel like it's time to get the house in order, clear the cobwebs out and prepare for the next adventures. Oh, and take try and take a breath as well.

They say it's your birthday...

The family holiday has come to an end and we had a lot of fun. The kids loved having the freedom to drop in at any time to see their cousins. Watching the six of them round the table every night eating dinner was incredibly cute. It was lovely to sit in the afternoon and chat to my brothers or laugh with them  as we watched our kids play and argue together.

The south coast of NSW is simply gorgeous. I haven't spent a great deal of time there before, just odd short visits here and there, and I have to say I fell in love with it. Green rolling hills, deep blue crashing waves, headlands that have been left unadorned. It's a special part of the world. I even eyed off some cute cottages I could picture myself in living very happily.

All in all, it was a lovely way to spend five days. We were all very sad packing up this morning.

Though not all is dismal as we arrive home, we get to see Skip tonight who the girls and I missed terribly and tomorrow is my birthday. 34, can you believe (I can't, I'm sure my 20th was just a year or two ago)?

I used to feel really uneasy about birthdays. I don't quite know why. I think it was about people feeling forced to celebrate a day about you, or something neurotic like that. Now, I quite like it. Mainly because the girls get excited about the prospect of cake and helping mummy blow out the candles.

Have a super-dooper weekend and I'll have a slice of cake for you all.

Re-run: Oh I just faff about at home all day

As I promised yesterday, holiday times means re-runs. So here is one of my favourite posts for your reading pleasure. I have a lot more readers than when I first wrote this late last year, so thought it might be nice to share. It was nice for me to reminisce any way. Enjoy!

I've always heard a lot of women say they couldn't stay out of the workplace for too long when having children as they were afraid of losing their skills. I was thinking about this recently and while in all honesty I never had a lot of skills to lose in the first place, I think the opposite has happened for me. I have so many more strange, unusual and often rather handy skills than I before. Seeing as this is supposed to be 'a day in the life', I will outline my day yesterday to illustrate my point.

4.32am - Goosey wakes and calls out "Muuuuummmmyyyyyy!" and in doing so wakes up Lil-lil, after wearily trying to persuade them to go back to sleep without success, we all get up and begin the day. I was talking to a friend who was once a commando in the army and said the level of sleep deprivation I've gone through as a mother is similar if not worse that they endured in the army. So after three years, I think I could fully cope in the army.

6.30am - I whip up three different breakfasts to exact picky orders. Weet-bix crumbled with a little bit of milk, weet-bix with lots of milk, vegemite toast, vegemite sandwich folded just so. Personal chef extraordinaire!

8am - While talking on the phone to my mum we juggle the girls timetable of activities - swimming, music, kindy - with her timetable. Six different times to fit in with sleeps, meals, mum's ability to babysit. The organisational skill would impress the writer of the London tube timetable. While we discuss this, Goosey comes up and tries to pull a hair out of her mouth and in the same instant throws up her weet-bix and toast all over my feet and the floor. She then steps in it and does a comical woah-woah-woah before falling and skidding everywhere.

A quick clean up and a mop of the floor and we're back on track. Until I pack away some dishes and drop a quiche dish in the exact same place Goosey spewed. The broom comes out again...

Cleaner anyone?

9am - Paper work and long chats on the phone with my insurer about a recent claim. Discussing details of solicitors, police and other important details while Goosey pulls on my hand and screams "Mummmmyyyyy" and Lil-lil pulls tissues out of the box and tears them up into little pieces on the floor. We then traipse off to my brother's office fax off paperwork all while attempting to entertain the kids and make sure they don't toddle down the large flight of stairs.

Multi-tasking and people management would be a breeze!

10.30am - Coffee stop (need some caffeine after all). Stop kids from knocking over waiter laden with steaming cappuccinos while we wait for my coffee. Then juggle both kids across a main road while holding said coffee. Strong man? Juggler extraordinaire? Who needs a circus??

11am - Quick stop to pick up a Christmas present that I ordered at the toy shop. Try to get the kids in and out before they destroy the whole store. Keep them from running off, while picking up my order. I think I could muster a herd of cattle with ease!

11.30am - Race home through traffic while tickling Goosey's feet so she doesn't fall asleep and they say the Finns are the world's best rally drivers, they haven't met me!

12.30pm - Arts and crafts with Lil-lil while Goosey sleeps. Tonia Toddman eat your heart out. I can craft with the best of them, plus I'm sure Tonia never had to listen to the following conversation: Lil-lil: Mum, help me paint. What colour? Orange, blue, green, yellow, purple, pink? Me: Umm I'd like blue. Lil-lil: How about pink? Me: OK. A minute passes. Lil-lil: What colour now? Orange, blue, green, yellow, purple or pink? Me: How about green? Lil-lil: How about pink. And so it went on...````

2pm - shoe shopping. Besides the fact my children have freaky feet and only one in every three million pairs actually fit them, shoe shopping is a nightmare. First I get a pair for Goosey while Lil-lil pulls shoes off the shelves and attempts to put them on - usually anything pink and glittery grabs her attention. When I turn my attention to Lil-lil I have to hold Goosey down with one hand so she doesn't run riot, at the same time fit the shoes on Lil-lil and then get her to walk around while I try and see if they fit, all the while still holding down a struggling, screaming Goosey. I don't know what kind of career I could translate these skills to, but I'm sure it must be something important.

3.30pm - a trip to the park on the way home. The girls get into a fight, I spend 15 minutes trying to tear them apart. Obama's had a whole year to sort of the middle eastern mess and won Nobel Peace Prize along the way.... Ummm I think I was sorely overlooked! The Middle East versus two crazy, fiery toddlers, send me to Gaza any day!

4pm - Lil-lil throws a giant tantrum at the park, on the ground kicking and screaming. All the while a group of mothers and their nine-month-old babies look on with horror and tut-tut me as I carry the stiff, hysterical girl. Crisis management - tick!

5pm - Attempt to make dinner while hungry children harass me, not only do I not spill boiling water over them, I do it all while brokering deals like: "If you're quiet for the next 10 minutes and let me cook dinner then you can have two Princess Lil-lil stories tonight." "But mummmmmm, I want some milk, I want some bread." "Please, leave me in peace and you'll eat soon enough. If you do it you can have a chocolate freckle tomorrow. And an extra swing at the park." And on it goes... I think I could easily work in boardroom negotiations or, dare I say, hostage negotiations. A walk in the park it would be.

6.30pm - Bathtime. Sing ridiculous songs while trying to get them clean. Each night it has to be something new and fresh. Pop idol, Madonna's reinvention is nothing to the lengths I go to each night.

6.45pm - Chase and catch two slippery toddlers who hide and dart all over the house and get them dressed before they kill themselves or each other. I can do this every night and they still can't manage to find Bin Laden.

7.30pm - collapse on the lounge with a glass of wine in front of the TV. Wine connoisseur and TV critic.

Before I had kids I just went to work, pretended to be important, came home, ate dinner and went to bed. Pffft to those who say I'm losing my "skills"!

Doing a Doogie

Seeing as I'm away holidaying this week, I'm keeping it all light and fluffy here. It's a mini-blog break. Or like when TV goes into non-ratings period. Re-runs, no heavy current affairs.

Doogie Howser, MD – The world's first blogger

Skip likes to call me Doogie. He thinks it's quite hilarious. Now I know that blogging may not be that rock'n'roll, but well, I guess I'm not that rock'n'roll either. Sure I may tap away my thoughts each day, but I like to think my hair is a little better than Doogie's and I don't have the electronic synthesiser music playing over me.

When you think about it, though, Doogie really is king of the bloggers. What other blogging gods do we have to bow down to? Doogie really brought blogging to the forefront, he was a pioneer.

All hail, King Doogie, I say.

Are there any other blogging icons out there? I'd love to know.

Everyone needs a friend like Fiona

Everyone deserves a friend who can make them laugh with a chuckle that begins right down in the bottom of your belly and rises into a whole body shuddering guffaw.

Everyone needs a friend with a heart of gold, who has so much concern that she pre-warns her co-workers about her upcoming birthday so they don't get embarrassed on the day.

Everyone needs a friend who has more cousins and aunties than you can poke a stick out.

Everyone needs a friend who can come up with a nickname in the blink of a eye.

Everyone needs a friend who can whip up baked goods like a pro, yet not eat them herself - now that's selfless.

Everyone needs a friend who reads your blog faithfully, sends you concerned emails when she thinks things may not be so rosy and says "Thank God!" when you tell them you have blog posts scheduled for while you're away on holidays.

Everyone needs a friend like Fiona. Thankfully, I have one.

Happy birthday, Fi. I hope all your dreams come true and stay as fabulous as you are.