Friday, 29 May 2009

Houseproud

In one hand Little Helper Girl is holding the red plant sprayer that I bought from B&Q to dampen her rebellious curls and that I usually end up chasing her around our flat with. In the other is a baby wipe. She’s cleaning the oven glass for me, supposedly.

“Look, Mummy. I made it worse,” she grins. Oh, more smears, that’s alright then.

I wonder how long it will be before I can get some value out of my daughter, apart from the endless joy, unconditional love and all those other blahdiblah positives that I can’t think of right now. When will she be doing the chores that I would prefer not to have to do? How many years till she’s making me a cup of tea or cooking me a fry-up? When will she be cleaning out all that sand and poster paint that she leaves in the bath? How long before she’s hanging out the washing (her own will suffice - I don’t have clothes to speak of anymore)?

It’s not that I expect my two-nearly-three year old to be my own personal maid or anything but I’d rather not be subservient to her for ever either (so why’d I have kids then? Erm, precisely because I didn’t have any kids – you don’t know till you know, do you?).

Just like you, I don’t enjoy housework. I usually have a bit of a wipe round the day before my period, when I get a burst of unexplained energy, but for 27 days of the month, I’d rather not.

I bought my first ironing board EVER just earlier on this year – I am 40 years old. Is that a good example of how much I dislike many things domestic (go on, ask me again – so why’d I have kids then? Because I didn’t know then what I …)? But my pet hate (apart from pets, of course) is vacuuming or mopping or sweeping or anything to do with the floor really. I think that this is because floors are beneath me and anything to do with cleaning crap off them is a low-down, dirty job. Although I do rather like my ever-growing floordrobe.

Celeste has a little plastic purple Dyson that makes an impressive noise and I get it out for her every week or two when I finally get around to sucking up the glitter, dried and stuckfast Sunny Bisks, play dough, strawberry leaves, Weston-super-Mud and onion skins (my very own mess, that last one) so that she can think that she's helping me. I am trying to educate her early on and what’s so wrong with that? She loves it. I was overjoyed when she made a bee-line for the pretend iron and board at one of the playschools we go to. Yesyesyes, she’s on the way!

Thank God I had a girl…

2 comments:

  1. Haha, I'm starting to see what was going through my Mum's head when I was growing up!! And I thought she was just preparing me for being an adult!!

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  2. "how long it will be before I can get some value out of my daughter?"
    That's a good question. My kids are 14 & 12 and I'm still waiting that precious moment :)

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