Being a BOTTOM* is hard work I’m finding.
Let me talk to you about separation anxiety. The most agonising thing for a parent to endure as you leave the house and your baby holds our their arms to you and wails sorrowfully as you exit stage right to earn some pennies.
Well this is what I have been told about separation anxiety; I have yet to flipping experience it first hand…
So far BB is yet to even shed a tear as I rush out the door clutching a handbag full of irrelevant items; none of which are needed for a day in the office, that is unless I work with a incontinent, raisin munching, teething workforce. In fact as I glanced sadly up at the window with a tear in my eye as I slowly climbed onto my ladies bike on friday morning I saw her furiously wave me goodbye whilst her other arm was wrapped tightly around Daddy Daycare.
Through the working day he who helped create them reassures me everyone is coping without me and BB is having marvellous time.
Well how rude is that?
I want disaster stories, I want to hear about how she spent part of the day calling mumma but instead it seems she is too busy working on the exact pronunciation of “I love Daddy best.”
I want to know about how twin boy has missed the loo and created chaos or how twin girl has started a fight with Snow White and Aurora.
So after I spent a year learning how to juggle the house, the kids, the washing, the ironing, why is he who helped create them making it look so bloody easy?
When did my six foot two husband who has a fear of clean things suddenly transform into Mary Poppins?
Every day this week I have returned home to a relatively tidy home with an empty laundry basket and my tea on the table. It was all I could do last night at dinner to hold myself back and to not race onto to the table, run across it scattering plates and dishes in my dash and wrap my manicured (I am back at work after all) hands round his neck and shake him madly for making my old job look like a walk in the park without the three kids and the dog.
But for the next three days I am denouncing my BOTTOM status. I am back in my ranch, I am the queen of the castle and god help me I am going to reorganise my troops and play so hard without stopping for a break that everyone will miss fun mummy come Tuesday morning.
C’mon separation anxiety; bring it on…
*BOTTOM: bugger of to the office Mum
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