Anyone who knows me would say I am…not spoilt exactly, but definitely pampered. I was an only child, and we always had live in domestics growing up. This roughly translates to my cup of milk being brought to bed each morning, my room being arranged daily, my laundry folded and kept in place in wardrobe, and my meal preferences being catered to.
My parents saw this as harmless affection, but my mother would often scold me saying I’d find it really tough when I grow up and have to manage my own place someday.
Boy, was she right.
In my defence though, I always wanted to be independent. I wanted to do adult things by myself, and I dislike asking for help (we ALL need help, but that’s another story). My parents would have gladly continued pampering me, but I was determined to break away. To ‘toughen up’. After all, I grew up seeing my mother and father work tirelessly towards giving us a better life, and I think it’s important for all children to experience that.
I quickly realised that, even if you do have a domestic, managing a house means that YOU are suddenly responsible for….everything. Sure, the Pilot helps whenever possible, but one person really needs to steer the ship. In our marriage, I more or less ensure our house is clean and tidy at all times- as Ammi says, if someone suddenly announces they are dropping in, you shouldn’t have to run around arranging the house, it should look presentable always– and that we are fed with home cooked meals as much as possible. That the taps are fixed, the patches on wall painted over, the lawn moved. Of course, I may nudge him or my parents into helping at times, but hey, I still am responsible for that!
As I write this, our second live-in domestic has packed up for good, as she needed to go home every two weeks and it wasn’t working out for us. The Pilot is home for 5 days in a row, so am not worried for now. But yesterday, me feet ached from constantly getting up to wash something, to straighten the tablecloth, to do the laundry, collect the garbage, fill my water bottle, and other countless little activities that make up a daily routine. Maybe I am too bothered, and perhaps over the years I’ll learn to be more efficient hopefully. But till I get there, I am anxious about what sort of mother I’ll be; how I’ll juggle it all, give everyone the attention they’re due, enjoy time with my husband, not nag my kids when I’m stressed, AND make my tea on time each morning. This is when I picture someone amazing like Mary Poppins coming to take over and help out, tea making included.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, housework is hard. Working for almost a decade felt easier in comparison.
I’d like to end this on a profound note, but the weeds in the garden are distracting me.
Oh yeah, that reminds me that I started this post, wanting to conclude with how thankful I am that I have a beautiful garden to look out into while I have my morning tea, and that I actually have time to enjoy the smaller things in life. Even though I have to go pluck the weeds that seem to have grown overnight right after.