Some weeks it’s easier than others to be a Stay At Home Mum. Some weeks its brilliant craic, when the kids are a laugh a minute and you are getting more than five hours kip a night.
Some weeks, like this week, it’s boring. BORING. There, I said it. And I’m not taking it back either. Take me out, and shoot me in the back garden for being a bad mother, but there are days when I have sang all the songs from Thomas The Tank and then made some recipe from Anabel STUPID Karmel that took fifteen hours and the kids threw it back at me and of course, changed ninety seven shitty nappies, that I beg, I CRAVE for a day at the office.
I want to smooth on some expensive foundation and know that a screed of it will still be there at 5pm. I want to sit at a desk and type, uninterrupted, for more than ten minutes. I want to swing a jaunty handbag filled only with the gorgeous accoutrement of lady-hood (phone, lip gloss, handbag-sized copy of Glamour). In the manner of Verucca Salt, I WANT I WANT I WANT.
I don’t regret my decision to stay at home with the boys for one tiny second, but some days, it’s nice to dream. And nice to know, that in five short years, they will be in school, and I will be at a desk somewhere. Hopefully somewhere cosmopolitan and amazing, but for now, the promise of a desk is enough. Oh, and a nice dress to wear at it.