DON'T TEAR YOUR HAIR OUT!

Today's the day

2009-04-21T10:09:00.002+01:00

So today's the day!

The day when my youngest lad marched off to school for his first full-day, brimming with excitement for the summer term that lies ahead and proudly clutching his storybox that he'd made over the weekend.

By contrast, his older brother had the air of a veteran schoolboy, running through the school gates, handing his own storybox over to me so that he could run faster.

The free spirit of youth running ahead, while I sauntered behind, trying to make sense of what's expected of me now.

I have a good life. So what do I want to make of it now the children are both at school. What more can I do nurture my family and what else can I do to nurture my own passions?

As I arrived home my well-suited husband was just leaving for work. The kiss that he gave me came with a cheeky grin.

"Well, you've got no excuse for not getting the house sorted now." he smiled.

"But I've got a few things to organise first." I replied.

.....Not least, a few things to help save the world.

So there's no getting away from it. I really need a plan because when I last looked, I just had a few blogs. Today, I've not only got the blogs, I've got a few collaborations under way, including The Zero Waste Checkout and a steady stream of local radio "appearances". I've also got my book to finish and find a new publisher too. And did I also mention we've also got chickens?

And er... we've also been planting up a small vegetable garden, both indoors and out! Indeed the trays of tomatoes on my worktops bring a whole new meaning to kitchen gardening.

So, I've got no excuse for getting the house sorted eh!

With all these distractions, it looks like I'm going to need to juggle more than ever! No wonder I got the kids ready for school yesterday, only to find out it was a staff training day.

Oh hum! At least we got to stay home for longer and make chocolate cake. Impromptu but nice!

So, I really do need to pull up my socks if I'm ever going to stay sane. I AM going to write a plan today, but not until I've sorted out the laundry!

Total Distractions: 5/10
Domestic Goddess Points 5/10

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It's carnival time with the British Mummy Bloggers

2009-03-17T10:30:00.000Z

For those who think I might have disappeared into a stack of laundry, or been sucked up by my new Dyson, don't fret I've not gone over to the darkside of the perfect housewife quite yet. I might have got into the habit of cleaning before my cleaner arrives, but I have been far too tied up with my other adventures to become wifus domesticus.

I've been rather busy with the local media...as well as knee deep in rubbish, and doing a sponsored bin round for Comic Relief.

Anything to keep away from the housework. Distractions, distractions, all of them a welcome relief.

But not as welcome as today's. It's a biggie. Indeed it has a party feel about it.

You see it's my turn to host the wonderful carnival of the Best of British Mummy (and Daddy) Bloggers.

And they're not just good, they're very very good.

So join me as I ditch my apron for my glitzy garb and shake my maracas to the beat of talent that I lay down before you.

And on that note, let the carnival begin:

*Go and have a laugh with Laura over at Are we nearly there yet Mummy, as she teaches her 4 year old about charity and finds what she would do with stacks of cash at Charity begins at home.

*See how Really Rachel failed to pull the wool over her little one's eyes when dealing with the subject of pants and nappies in Pants perhaps - depending how you look at it.

*Join Emily Bassin in her tale of caterpillars in the most memorable present ever given and discover the meaning of carked it.

*Empathise with A Modern Mother as she reveals how her great ideas captured in The Fleeting Moment get lost somewhere in the chores of daily life.

*Ponder with Mothership over the effects of aging and have a play at her eye-brow lifting game of Fantasy Plastic Surgery.

*Have a laugh with the eternally funny Jo Beaufoix in the tale of the Wascally Wabbit.

*Help Metropolitan Mum get into labour (birth not politics) with all the suggestions you can offer. She's already listed a few in her post Bring it On.

*See how the hardworking Rosie Scribble reacts when someone has the cheek to call her a Lady of Leisure.

*Follow Nixdminx as she cranes her head in a botox-spotting exercise in her tale of 21st Century Botoxymoron.

*Go to Doobleh-vay and help Amy on her way in exercise and good health as she tells herself "Sometimes, I guess there aren't enough rocks"

*Soothe Moaning Mum as she returns from her flight from hell and arrives Home Sweet (Hectic) Home...ahhh.

*Catch up with Family Affairs and discover the hilarious semi-naked truth on joining the twittering classes.

* Join Candice Broom at Mom most Traveled and find out how YOU can have a reputation as a deep thinker.

* Find out how little Twinkle is getting along with Door frames, dark dens and sign language, and wish Halo luck as she learns how to sign-a-long over at Beautiful Spectrum.

* Share Expat Mum's rant, in her blogpost Don't get me started as she describes life on the other side of the Atlantic

* Please rally round and stop Tawny feeling guilty at I promise to do my best.

* Join Single Parent Dad in pondering a widower's response to his nursery, when they asked the poignant question Mother's day:what would you like us to do?

And last but definitely not least

* Visit Dulwich Divorcee and discover why you should take an in interest in the length of a gentleman's thumb as well as other Vital Statistics.

Huge thanks to all who have contributed. You've done a grand job at breaking up the mundane. It's just a shame the washing up can wait no longer. xxxx

Total distraction points 10/10 (yay - thank you)

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If I don't like housework, why am I doing this?

2009-02-25T14:32:00.002Z

So I've had a good whinge about domestic duties and how I find it mundane and boring, oh yawn...I'm just falling asleep while thinking about it.

So why the heck have I set myself such a ridiculous challenge instead of finding a job and ignoring it.

Well like it or lump it, running a home is something that has to be done whether you work or not. Some people are wonderful at it in a way that I can only admire, while other folk like me are just pants at all things domestic, naturally disorganised and deal with it in a way that others will never be able to fathom.

But unlike a spoilt child that stamps her feet and refuses to tidy her bedroom, expecting the maid to clear up everything after her, I actually want to get better at this housework lark, not by becoming a domestic goddess but simply providing a comfortable and relaxing environment for my family instead of the chaos that currently prevails.

Having spent the last five years at home, I've enjoyed a small insight into the delights of downshifting, slowing down from the speed of the 9 to 5. And having witnessed the benefits, I'd like to stay on this path, finding a way to balance the needs of my family and our home with my own creative outlets and my passion for sharing the message about reducing waste.

But one thing I've learned is that you can't have it all and I need to work out how to fit my interests and passions around my other responsibilities, i.e. the ones that are closer to home and the ones that matter most.

So I want to learn how other people manage and how they divide their time to keep things in order. How do they balance it all? Or is everyone juggling at the same speed?

What is the real secret?

And can it be balanced?

Or is the real answer to stop blogging?

Oh no, I don't think I could do that. And with my fingers in my ears, muttering "la la la la la la", I'm off to unload the washing machine.....

Good Lord, you see..... I can obviously juggle when push comes to shove even if today's load is still full of yesterday's pants!

Well I've got a good excuse for my distraction and one which should award me at least 1 point.

Indeed I was busy making pancakes for the kids! It's just a shame they were so crap. Never mind, at least there's always next year.

Domestic Goddess Points: 2/10

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I WILL gain control

2009-02-23T10:42:00.011Z

Well half term's been and gone and as I had anticipated, it was full of adventures. But somehow they were not the kind of antics you'd expect from an average household getting on with an average break from school.

Indeed I am beginning to wonder whether the distraction gremlins have moved in permanently because my life has become even more chaotic and disorganised than usual. But in some ways these distractions are very, very exciting.

First there was the impromptu phone-call from Three Counties Radio, where they wanted me to comment on recycling ten minutes into the end of the programme, which coincided with a lunch date with Christina (aka recently discovered Feargal Sharkey Fan), who was visiting from York and encouraging me to crack on with my book.

But given that I've always got something to say on rubbish, I found myself interrupting dessert to tuck myself away in my car with my phone - in the cold - so I could say my piece without the background noise of the pub getting in the way. I'm not sure the radio station would have appreciated lively jazz music accompanying my mutterings.

And the cheek of it...can you believe the provocative presenter called me a Bunny Loving Tree Hugger?! I'm more of a Blog Loving Husband Hugger. Yes, I know I like to do my bit, but I'm afraid the relevance of stereotypes went out with the turn of the century as so many others are making an effort too. He should really try to keep up, don't you think. Cheeky boy!

Next I gadded off to the Big Smoke, to meet up with my gorgeous friend Tracey, descending on London to support our very funny friend Abi, in her debut performance at the Pink Poodle Comedy Club in Soho.

"The Pink Poodle?" My husband said, raising his eyebrows, as he dropped me off at the train station in Bury St Edmunds.

"Yes" I said, lowering mine.

"In Soho?" He added, eyebrows now frozen in place.

"Indeed" I replied as I kissed the children goodbye and ran off to the ticket office.

I was upset that I was leaving the kids behind for my first overnight stay away from them in six years, yes SIX years! But I was also excited at seeing Abi's performance of what has become her signature tune and wondered how it would go down in a Soho gay club. I needn't have worried, the children had a great time even though they said they'd missed me "an ickle bit" and as for Abi, she received a rapturous welcome with more deafening applause at the end of her performance. The audience loved her and so did we, our sides aching from laughter the following morning.

If all that wasn't exciting enough, once I'd settled myself back at home for some fun with the kids and got ready to sort out the mess I'd left behind and the muddle they'd created during my absence, the postman knocked early on Saturday Morning. He was delivering a bundle of post including my free ticket to the MediaGuardian Innovation Awards ceremony for which my other blog has been shortlisted in this year's Independent Media category. An evening out in a swanky restaurant in London, in the company of the most amazing creative talent!

I know, with MEGA distractions like that what is a girl to do! There's not just the dress and the shoes, there's also the feeling of overwhelm that's left me stunned since the day I found out. And I've got my book to finish. No wonder I can't find time or the inclination for the bloody housework.

Well, at last I've found the solution.

It was a choice of giving up writing or hiring a cleaner.

Can you tell the writing won?

And yes the cleaner started today.

But if you think it's a cop-out think again as I made sure I had a bloody good clean-up before she got here. Well, I couldn't leave her with all our mess. I'm worried it would send her running to the hills before she even got started.

I've got my reputation to keep up you know and I think this solution might just work.

Ah...I will become a proper keeper of this household. I don't know how I'll get there, but get there I will! So with the cleaner now gone and a sparkling home, I'm now off to wash more pants!

Total Distraction Points: 10/10
Domestic Goddess Points 2/10
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Role Reversal: A Half-Term Treat!

2009-02-14T20:12:00.010Z

Today I awoke with a headache.

Now it could have been last night's Chablis. On the other hand, it might have been my deep-seated fear of half-term, which is enough to send a shiver down my spine on any occasion.

Don't get me wrong. I adore my beautiful boys but school holidays tend to result in the house being turned over in a way that only a bunch of opportunist burglars could recreate.

So given my current challenge, I was naturally concerned and the only thing that could help was a nice relaxing bath.

But while I was enjoying my soak, something strange had occured. Indeed there was an excitable level of noise permeating from the vicinity of the living room. So I slowly crept down the stairs only to find that aliens had landed.

I think they were aliens but I wasn't sure. They looked like my boys, but they were behaving oddly.

They were cleaning.

As was my husband, drawn-in by our newly acquired Dyson.

Maybe my domestic talents aren't needed after all. Aw shucks, But somehow...I don't think I'll be calling the Union! Half-term eh....bring it on!

Domestic Goddess Points 0/10

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Straightening things out - Not for the domestically challenged

2009-02-11T13:00:00.001Z

"...and that's the swanky reception!" I told my friend Christina, as we passed the offices of the music industry's Performing Right Society, located just off Oxford Street in London.

"It never looked that good in my day," I added, admiring the decor and recalling the 15 months I had spent working there. It was over a decade ago but as we gawped through the window, it almost felt like yesterday.

"And if you turn around now" I said softly "you'll even spot Feargal Sharkey."

I think she was expecting to see a photograph, but as my friend looked over her shoulder, she caught the eye of the man himself, now an aging 1980s pop star, once lead singer with the Undertones, engaged deeply in discussion with another man on the pavement, his Northern Ireland accent as distinct as ever. It was no surprise to see him there. Following a successful career as a performer, he has since worked behind the scenes and is currently Chief Executive Officer of British Music Rights.

She looked at him.

And he looked at her.

"Bloody hell, Feargal Sharkey's just eyeballed me!" she exclaimed, a moment that almost matched the excitement of the event that we'd attended that afternoon, The Romantic Novelist's Association's Awards Luncheon in South Kensington to which she'd invited me along as her guest.

She was used to burying her head in romantic novels but she wasn't used to spotting celebrities.

So as we turned the corner and walked along Goodge Street, heading in the direction of King's Cross station, she burst into song, performing one of Mr Sharkey's more well known tunes. "A good heart these days is hard to find, a true love, the lasting kind."

"What do you think he'd say if I ran back and sang to him" she quipped.

"I think he'd probably tell you to bugger off!"

"Or would that be 'Feck arf, you fecker'!?" she laughed, with a spirited dose of her nothern humour.

And that's how yesterday ended, with a trip down memory lane and wondering about her future as a romantic novelist, far away in London singing 1980s pop songs, and most importantly not a household chore in sight!

Total Distraction Points 10/10

That was yesterday, just a momentary glimpse of my past. Today, it's back down to domestic duties, thinking about the washing up, the laundry and going off to the market before I pick the kids up from school and take my eldest to Beavers.

Normality at its best!

And then there's my aim of mastering the role of a housewife!

Oh if only my mother-in-law was still alive. She’d have fallen off her chair in shock.

“A career girl like you?” she would have said. "Pretending to be a housewife when you can't even make the beds in the morning for want of more interesting things." She never did approve of the abstract works of art I could create with duvets.

"Tut tut" she'd say. "All it takes is a few minutes to straighten them out before running off to work".

If she could see me now. She'd be twiced as shocked, not just at the state of the messy beds but the fact that I'm still at home worrying about it. If she had been the betting type, she would have placed a wager on me getting back to the office no sooner had my babies been checked over and registered I was Mummy.

And before the children were born I would have agreed with her. But somehow nature took over and as the maternal instinct kicked in the thoughts of returning to work were firmly booted out! Don’t get me wrong. I was no earth mother and if I lived nearer to work, most likely I would have gone back like a shot as soon as my maternity leave was up. But work was in London and family life was 30 miles away in Hertfordshire.

Thirty miles might not seem far but seven years ago and the state of the rail service it might as well have been 130 and I was not going to take the risk of being caught on a broken-down train being unable to reach my little baby, not to mention the terrorist threats that followed 9/11. Our lives were too precious.

So I threw in the professional towel, gave notice to our cleaner and with all the maternal love I could muster, I opted for life at home with my pride and joy.

But slowing down to the pace of a baby was trickier than I had expected.

By then I'd moved on from the Performing Right Society to become a research manager for a Digital Rights Management consultancy in Waterloo, a life featuring a busy commute and a hectic work schedule which I'd like to think I tackled successfully. That fast pace of life was a part of me, something that I'd fostered in a career that had spanned 12 years. I found it hard to adapt to my new self, feeling out of control as a disorganised stay-at-home mum feeding a baby on-demand who fed for such a long time that I dissolved in a diet of day-time telly.

Where I would once revel in professional achievements I found I was unable to complete anything. Even a batch of laundry became a two-day cycle, not because of the growing amount of baby clothes but thanks to the interruptions that a new child brought.

My passion for cooking turned into a culinary challenge.

And with the amount of housework growing at an exponential rate, I crumpled, living 4 hours away from my family and no access to local support.

It's not as though we could even really afford this lifestyle and let's face it, feeling out-of-control on the homefront on just half a salary is not everyone's idea of domestic bliss. And at times it didn't feel like mine either, slowly losing my identity and and realising that my new measure of success was whether I made it to the shower by 9am had me questioning who I had become.

But the person I'd become was a mother and it what was important for me and my husband was that I was at home with our baby, watching him grow from a young infant to a babbling toddler, until there came a time when we couldn't afford for me to be out of work any longer and we needed to pay the mortgage.

And yes, all raring to go, and when he was 11 months old I quickly jumped into a full-time job that was local. An opportunity to get back into IT, get paid good money and allowed me the luxury of an undisturbed cup of char.

Back where I thought I belonged, leaving the housework behind.

But it never felt right, not for me anyway. I loved my independence but I missed my boy and saw him for such little time I began to feel like his babysitter. Then there was the clash of priorities when he got Chickenpox. Who could ditch their meetings and work commitments to look after him at home? Me or my husband? It was hard fought.

I realised that being caught between work priorities and my commitment as a mother was a challenge in itself. And I admire those who have to to it and indeed those who enjoy the option.

But that hard-to-balance lifestyle was not for me, which is why nine-months later I left to immerse myself in the role I gradually learnt to accept, pretending to be a housewife when all around me just collapsed into further chaos.

Yes the chaos. I'm looking at it now. I'm still domestically challenged.

Nothing's changed since I took that decision all those years ago.

But it's about to.

Forget pretending to be a housewife, immersing myself in every distraction. I'm off upstairs for some domestic karma.

My late mother-in-law would be proud.

I'm going to shake down those duvets and for the first time in ages...
... I'm going to make the beds!

Domestic Goddess Points: 1/10

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So where do I start?

2009-02-09T15:00:00.003Z

It's often good to start at the beginning don't you think? To firmly shake hands, smile politely and introduce oneself, offering an interesting remark or two to open up discussion. A perfect opportunity to engage with new folk, many of whom may even become good friends in time.

But I'm not quite sure if this really is the beginning.

In a way it feels like the end, just like when you leave your old job, say that you'll keep in touch with all the best intentions, then wonder if you ever will.

Hmm, even though I've hardly begun, the beginning seems so far away and I'm certainly a long way off from where this adventure will end or indeed knowing how it will end. So perhaps this is actually "The Middle"? Slap bang in the centre of it all. Right where the action is. Not a minute too soon or a moment too late.

That's it. That's where I should begin - the madly, muddily, middle. It may seem a peculiar place to start but yet it feels so natural, so appropriate somehow.

After all, I am what you might call middle-aged.

But only just.

It's true, I turned forty last year. A beautiful age, except that the day after my birthday I looked in the mirror to find my face had sagged and my boobs were suddenly dangling in the vicinity of my waist. Well I think it's my waist. Perhaps it's time to book the search and rescue team to confirm matters and while they're at it, they might even discover my jelly button - sorry I mean belly button - last seen prior to the birth of my second child.

Ah yes, children.

Did I mention I'm a mother?

I know it's hard to keep up with such things if you start in the middle.

But yes I am - and a wife!

With two boys.

One big. Aged 7 - receiving frequent visits from the tooth fairy.

One small. Aged 4 - soon to be starting full-time school. In sixty nine days time. Which means he'll soon be big.

So with all this growing up on the horizon and both kids packed off to school, where will all this leave me?

Home alone I guess, washing pants on Mondays, pants on Tuesdays and pants again on Wednesdays. Get the drift?

...with no more excuses to avoid the housework...

...and certainly no excuse not to find a proper job.

Bugger.

How did that happen?

Just when I got into my flow too. You know, writing, blogging, writing, blogging...attempting to save the world on the odd occasion and then writing about it afterwards - such luxury!

Could I give up this freedom for life back in the office?

....Ah, the office. Now it does have an appeal. The money, brain-energising challenges and the clothes.

But there's blogging, writing, blogging, writing and still saving the world on odd occasion. That's sounds so much better.

So perhaps I'll remain a housewife.

REMAIN?

Sorry, perhaps I should BECOME a proper housewife.

It should be a doddle shouldn't it? After all, I've had seven years of practice.

Just imagine, with the kids at school and husband packed off to work, I'll have a clean and organised household and be ready to welcome home well-behaved kids, create perfect suppers and have a happy husband to boot.

It all sounds so simple in theory.

But as my friends collapse into fits of laughter, they'll know the true reality of this mission and how I'm so easily distracted by far more interesting things.

But for the sake of my family and my passion for writing, I'll give myself a year!

Just ONE YEAR to prove that I can hack it as a REAL HOUSEWIFE, avoiding the call of the big bucks that tempt me away from the mundane routines.

Ah now where was I?

That's right...somewhere in the middle....

...yep right in the middle of...

(There's just no getting away from it).

As always I'm in the middle of THE BLOODY WASHING UP!

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2009-01-11T09:36:00.001Z

Almost Mrs Average's Latest Project

The Inaugural blogpost coming soon...