Galley Slave

Well, now I’ve got an audience I’ve gone a bit shy.  All I can say is THANK YOU for reading and if I get performance anxiety for a bit please stick with me.

One of the most rubbish things about being a Stay At Home Mother is the housework.  I hate housework.  I don’t necessarily think it’s beneath me, I just really hate doing it.  Trulove (my partner, who has just told me he would prefer the pseudonym ‘fucknozzle’ but whom I’m not going to indulge on that one) doesn’t really expect me to do it, knowing me as he does, but there exists that eternal nagging guilty feeling.  Also it’s embarrassing when you have visitors and the toilet is smeared with the remnants of Ziggler’s latest accident.  Housework is BORING.  And it is never, ever finished.

Housework is bad enough, but the really drudgy, dreary, never ending task is the thankless treadmill of providing sustenance for two small children.  Pickle is what they call a good eater so while you would think she’d fill herself up nicely on the various bit of detritus she finds to stick in her mouth throughout the day, if she doesn’t eat punctually her usually sunny self is possessed by a small ball of squalling rage.  Being quite greedy myself, I sympathise.  Ziggler has reached the stage where eating – or not eating – is a whole amazing new method of controlling the simpering dishrags who are her parents, so you have to be super-casual about meal times.  If she detects the slightest note of your desire that she eat something, that’s it.  Her mouth is clamped shut and nothing is going in.  This is frustrating and wasteful if you’ve just spent an hour preparing nutritionally balanced morsels for her delectation so I have stopped doing that and she mostly eats ketchup.

So here’s a typical day food-wise.  Breakfast.  Pickle is self-feeding and likes to demonstrate the ways in which Weetabix should be used as industrial fixative.  Seriously, why isn’t it?  Or, in fact, is it?  Anyway, wash up breakfast.

Mid morning snack, which if we’re at home consists of rice cakes with cream cheese on and squash served IN THE PINK CUP MUMMY and if we’re out is probably an old box of raisins and a crumbled breadstick I’ve fished out of the bottom of my bag.

Lunch, which is served half an hour after mid-morning snack and will mostly end up on the, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, by now quite foetid carpet.  Sweep up.  Wash up lunch.

Back into the kitchen for mid afternoon snack.  Clear up.  Scrape banana off baby.

Back into the kitchen once again for ‘tea’ as far as I’m concerned and ‘supper’ at the weekends when Trulove might be making it.  Clear up/wash up tea.

Once the children are in bed, it is again to the kitchen to lovingly prepare a delicious evening repast,  shared with a glass of wine and a twinkly conversation over the candle-lit table.  Sort of.

Punctuate this throughout the day with a two-year-old’s demands for juice in variously coloured, lidded and handled cups (I naively imagined that if I made it a rule to let her choose the colour of her tableware she would be more receptive to eating what I wanted her to.  All I can say now is, aha ha ha.), and having to boil the kettle every ten minutes for Pickle’s bottles,  and I am heartily sick of the kitchen and everything in it by the end of the day.

And then, in the morning it all starts all over again.

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About vickola

Bad housewife.
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6 Responses to Galley Slave

  1. Amy says:

    This post made me giggle, the trials and tribulations of meal times. In other words groundhog day! Trust me as they get older it gets no easier, you just have to come up with more ways to entice, disguise, force feed the little darlings. The words ‘swallow it, it’s not poison just butternut squash!’ ringing in their little ears. I am constantly telling my children how lucky they are they aren’t subjected to eating liver and onions at meal times like Mummy and Daddy had too back in the dark ages, before ketchup was invented. Between you and I, I’ve never eaten liver in my life 😉

  2. Jess says:

    This sums up how I feel about feeding time at the zoo as well. I have very similarly aged children and decided this month life was too short for different meal time options so they both now get the same thing or lump it… with mixed success. Apparently a 2 year old can endure a morning at nursery, 2 pieces of pasta and nothing else, then go on to do a swimming lesson and sit nicely on the side waiting for her little sister to have her swimming lesson without having a meltdown. Who knew, turns out they don’t starve and it’s not disastrous for behaviour if they go without to learn the lesson that I am not buffet. Thank you for the reminder how much I hate the constant cooking, as it prompted me to ask OH to give me a hand with some batch cooking this evening so the week ahead looks less horrendous.

  3. Amanda says:

    If I wrote a blog, this is what it would say! Thank you for letting me know I’m not alone…

  4. Neela says:

    You’ve hit the nail splat bang on the head again. This is exactly why I hate the weekends.

  5. Sarah says:

    You have hit the nail on it’s proverbial head. Again. Thank you for letting me know that it’s not just my toddler who only eats ketchup at most mealtimes.
    And ps. it’s definitely ‘tea’!

  6. I’ve wondered that about weetabix too and, all I can say about the rest of it is: ditto, ditto ditto.

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