The best of intentions all fall away when my bottom hits the sofa.
After putting the children to bed I decided to do a little naked cleaning. I’ll just quickly add that it isn’t a desperate housewife ritual to entice my husband. Nope. My husband is away for five days and four nights on his final – yes FINAL residential stay at university so I shouldn’t grumble as I’ll be more glad than he, I think, when it’s finished but did I mention he’s away for five days and four nights and I have four children?!
Anyway – back to the naked cleaning. I do this purely as a multipurpose task. I am a very practical person so if I’m gonna clean, I’m gonna scrub hard so I can call it ‘exercise’ because I’m gonna sweat. I read somewhere that anything that gets your heart rate up can be called exercise…In that case my whole life should be called exercise.
Once I’ve given the house a once over – minus bedrooms that my sleeping babes fill – and the dryer has finished it’s cycle, I sort the clothes into ‘ironing’ and ‘put away’ piles, I set the table for breakfast.
One lesson I have learned from a family member who has four girls was to always be prepared for the next day the night before. I have always stuck to it.
This season I have two going to school and two staying at home but all four plus me have to leave the house by eight twenty am looking ready for the day even if that means I have to wear a nightie under my jogging bottoms for the drop off.
Once my ‘exercise’ session is over I shower away the sweat and polish residue, spritz a little Fabreeze everywhere and make a brew. I think of finishing my book and devouring a bag of munchies but once my bottom hits the sofa it takes all of my strength not to fall asleep.
Aching muscles dissolve into slush as the fabric surrounds my tush and envelopes my sore spine. I am done. Begrudgingly I turn on the tv to see what crap is broadcasting. I hate that I can waste hours watching people make meatballs in a crowded kitchen so I turn to writing and I turn to you. Hello. How’ve you been?