Sunday, 22 April 2012
PottyMouthMama: Reporting For Domestic Duty
This weekend was going to be all about me being a domestic goddess and surpassing my motherly duties. Ticking every box and getting a gold star.
And do you think that happened?
Er. A little.
I had plans to tidy the whole house. To ditch all the junk hovering around our house. It's mounting. In piles. In bags. In boxes. And I can't seem to get on top of it. Well wait - I can get on top of it, I can lie on top of it, I just can't control it.
I was going to get wildly domestic in the kitchen. I had grand aspirations.
Instead Saturday I had a wee hangover, and shuffled around the house like a hermit crab. What kind of young player am I?
I did sort out some clothes. I did bake choc chip cookies.
And tonight, Matt went out to do some painting, while I stayed at home - and thought - yes! I will make pasta. Then it all went to poo. I was rolling pasta, I had the water bubbling away - the pasta was rolling, rolling, too long to hold in both my hands - I felt like Big Anthony out of Strega Nona. Pasta everywhere. I finally got it into the pot and kept rolling out extra pasta - and then the pasta went bloaty and gluggy. Poor pasta.
So the smalls wound up with toast and baked beans for dinner.
And then I hurried them through dinner, tucked them into bed and felt irate with myself for being such a grump.