I’m currently sitting on Amelia’s bedroom floor with a luke-warm cup of coffee typing this post on my phone, because she doesn’t want to got to sleep by herself, so clearly I am not on any kind of strike at all… But I really want to be!
I love my kids, and family life is great (most of the time) but I am not ashamed to admit that I heard myself saying earlier on this evening
“Nope. Not doing it. I’m on Mum Strike!”
It was said with a smile, and a tone which suggested “Don’t be silly, I’m only joking guys!” But somewhere inside me a voice was whispering “If only, Mama” If only I didn’t have to get my arse up off the sofa to get the kids ready for bed. If only Amelia had not been poorly this week and gone to nursery so I could have had some time out. If only the washing up/dirty clothes/sweeping the floors/cooking of dinner would all just magically get done without my input.
I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I just can’t be bothered. And that really is ok! There’s this stupid rule that parents can’t be, or shouldn’t be, lazy. That we should be ever ready to jump up from our seat at a moments notice to attend to every precious need of our little darlings.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I have days when all I want to do is laze around on the sofa in my pj’s.
I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes the effort of brushing my hair just isn’t worth it.
I’m not ashamed to admit that some days none of us get dressed, because really what is the point?! It will only mean having to wash 2 extra sets of clothing that have ended up covered in mysterious smudges of what I hope is food.
I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I just don’t see the point in hoovering; it’ll only be covered in crap again in 5 minutes.
I’m not ashamed to admit that some days the TV is our best friend, and I will happily watch The Little Mermaid on repeat if it means no one asks me to do anything for a couple of hours.
I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I spend the entire day, from the moment I wake, quietly counting down the hours until bedtime.
I’m not ashamed to admit that some days when Mr C gets home from work I retreat immediately to the sofa, immerse myself in my phone and ignore everyone in the hope that they will get the hint and continue the last couple of hours of the day in the pretence that I’m not there!
I love my kids. But sometimes I just can’t be bothered. And I am not ashamed.
How about you guys?! I’d like to start compiling a monthly list of “I’m not ashamed” so I’d love to hear yours in the comments below.