I cannot decide whether to weep, laugh or cry

I went to visit my friend whom I hadn’t seen in ages. I was dismayed to see that she had become an absolute domestic goddess.

*  *  *

I struggle with the domestic part of being a mom and wife. I may not totally suck at both but I am most certainly kind of domestically challenged. I might not be the queen of idlers but I am not so blessed.

*  *  *

My friend’s kids were spick and span. The wooden floors gleamed. There were mouthwatering baking and cooking smells wafting from the kitchen. There were fresh flowers in the lounge tastefully arranged. She was immaculate and did not look she had done anything at all.

*  *  *

I absolutely hate wooden floors; they have a tendency to get water stains and never gleam for long. My kids generally have stained edges. Flowers do not fare well even tacky plastic ones. cooking and baking and a clean house? Not likely.

*  *  *

I have never liked housework and I only clean because I can’t stand the dirt. Chaos reign well and truly in my home. I clean and an hour later it looks as though a bomb has gone of in the vicinity of my house. During weekends when they do not have to go to school, the kids are clean for like five minutes after they have taken a bath before they start looking like they intentionally had mud baths. I do not have the heart to stop their frolicking in the mud, making mud pies and all associated activities which might or might not include brawling.

*  *  *

I love baking and when the mood strikes me I can bake a mean souffle. But swamped as I am with all the domesticity that does sometime define my life I feel less inclined and charitable enough to whip up interesting deserts. Domestic goddesses like Martha Stewart and Bree Van de Kamp make me feel bad. They are well turned out all the time. They can get red wine stains out of anything. They can fold fitted sheets all the time. I mean seriously! I end up just stuffing them in the linen cupboard rolled up before I can strangle myself in frustration.

I watched Niegella Lawson’s show and almost cried. She makes everything look so effortless. Nothing seems to faze her and life’s little horrors never seem to happen to her. Impossibly high standards.

*  *  *

I am a working mother. Not an excuse but some of motherly duties are going to suck. As are some of my wifely duties. I come from work knackered and just want to slob around for a minute or thirty and those goddesses drive my tired being from the sofa to drag myself around the house putting it to rights hoping I will get round to having some me time as soon as the kids are in bed. My life is difficult enough without being told how to be a goddess and made to feel worthless and inadequate.

*  *  *

No matter what I will still absolutely hate doing laundry.

I still hate cooking.

I will not watch cooking shows.

I will not listen to domestic goddesses especially if they are my friends.

I am not a domestic goddess and will never be and that’s okay.

Days when I think of meatballs and cry

I have days when I need a lift because I feel really down. These quotes have helped me get by more than once:

1. The streets aint made for everyone thats why they made sidewalks. – Cookie, Empire

2. Mistakes are the price we pay for knowledge. Jock, Jock of the Bushveld

3. When you pray for the rain, get ready to deal with the mud. The Equalizer

4. The first law of thermodynamics; nothing is lost, only changed.

It’s Ok

… to wake up one day and not feel like doing anything.

… to love the villain in a movie; some of them are so likable you just cant help it.

… to know all the kings, banner men etc from the Games of thrones and have no idea of who is actually ruling in the real world.

… to consider ice cream a food group.

…to find Olivia Pope annoying and still

watch Scandal.

… to hate the words: amazing, effortless, trendy, energy, dos, don’t.

… to feel irrationally upset for no apparent reason.

… to be totally offended when winter is officially over and you haven’t shaved your legs yet.

…to speak fondly of celebs as if they you were a part of their families.

And a happy new year to the new you…

Over the past few weeks I have done some soul searching in my search for who I am to better understand myself and become a better individual. I have known for sometime that I am a coward and unable to stand on my own and admitting this truth has set me free. I do not particularly like that part of myself. It is one of the major aspects of my character that I will work on to improve my well-being. I went home (kumusha) this weekend. Whenever I feel I am losing it, I go home to see my mom and dad. I took the bus. Bad Idea. I don’t like buses. I don’t like the smells, the rubbing of shoulders and other body parts, the noise, the music. The buses never run on time and it was raining so it took longer. Another thing I hate. They stop for what I think is no apparent reason. So if you have come from home and board the bus at 1 in the afternoon chances are you will only need a bathroom break in maybe 3 hours but why they would need to stop two hours later for people to eat and for 25 minutes is beyond me! I sat next to a nursing mother and had a horrible time. I am a mother of three and I am sure there are some assumptions I have made but never that I could just hand over my baby to a stranger whilst I looked for a diaper in the depths on my bag under my seat. I was shocked into inaction and automatically took the baby who smelled of unsavory and unpalatable nappy.  Nappy is that distinct cloying nappy smell which can permeate everything and everyone. So there I was holding the baby as far away from me as my short arms could. It appeared as if I had been holding the baby for a long time but it was just a few minutes. I promptly changed where I was sitting because she immediately started changing the baby right there and then. She gave me dirty looks from then on, you know that look that says ‘you are a woman and you should not find poo disgusting’. As if!

I hadn’t been on the bus in a while and this being a chicken bus did not make the re experience a gratifying on. I had to make a connection at Chaka. Had to wait for the Kombi to fill up in the biting cold and it also started to rain. The mere 31 kilometers of dust road took almost two hours to cover and I was miserable by the time I got home. I have driven this route and it has only taken me three and a half hours instead of the five that it took me (minus the two hours waiting time in between).

The return leg was no better with a bus philosopher (drunk of course – is there any other?) getting on the bus in Chivhu. He managed to make almost everyone laugh (with his crude sense of humor), make me angry (because of his chauvinistic attitude) and frighten everyone (when he whistled – the sound managed to penetrate the din of the bus radio and the loud bass of my earphones – to drown out the repetitive music) before he got off, stumbling and falling on his face.

Don’t like buses. Don’t like the music they play. Don’t like dirty babies. Don’t like waiting. Don’t like doing stuff by myself. Don’t like not liking stuff. 🙂 Will learn to like stuff.

So word to the wise; take a jacket with you when you are going on a long journey – even when the weather report says its going to be fine out. And for the chicken bus ride, just sit and relax; the smells will not kill you, the bus philosopher will leave at some point and you will arrive when you do.