Mommy rage

I am fed up. Probably in part because I have a cold for the first time in months, probably because I've been burning the candle at both ends and so am tired (I don't do tired very well, find it both boring and frustrating) and also probably because my children are beautiful piglets with a rapidly diminishing respect for my desire to keep a half-attractive home.

I am not naturally tidy and I am not naturally organized, but I have devised numerous strategies over the years to keep a lid on the ever-bubbling chaos and I work damned hard at it. An attractive environment is incredibly important to me and I like to know where things are - anything else is annoying and wastes time at crucial moments (usually when I'm just about to leave the house - I also hate to be late...anal, moi? Maybe a little.) Hence my rage this morning.

Here is my new domestic manifesto:

- anything left on the floor for more than two days, unless it's an item meant to be on the floor like a rug, will be promptly filed in the trash with minimal remorse on my part.

- ditto piles of random crap 'tidied' away in drawers, in vases, on kitchen counters and shelves. If it's important then put it somewhere where I can't see it.

- my clothes do not belong in the dressing up box and if I EVER find my favorite pair of heels in the garden again there will be a severe price to pay.

- an empty cardboard tube where a loo roll is meant to be is a personal affront. Reach into the cupboard and replace it before you leave the bathroom.

- my make-up is not meant for arts and crafts projects, whatever the circumstances.

- shoes do NOT belong on the stairs or in the middle of the hallway. I recently purchased ingenious contraptions designed for the storage of shoes, use them.

- sadly, I am not the oracle nor can I see through walls. Whilst I am flattered that you consider me to have superhuman powers, if you've lost your homework/ school bag/ shoes/ capacity for cognitive thought then I suggest you stop shouting, open your eyes and go look for the missing item without having a total pixie about it.

- if you forget to tell me about a birthday party or other important event in your social calendar, how the heck am I expected to know about it? Again, I am unfortunately lacking in superhuman powers, although have always thought the possession of psychic abilities would make being a mother much easier.

- you are nine and seven years old. No bloody way are you getting an iPhone any time this decade. And I don't believe that 'everyone' in your class has one. Nor do I care.

- I am not trying to poison you at meal times. Nor am I trying to make your life miserable. I don't give you chicken nuggets because I know what goes into them, pizza is not meant for every night and my lovingly crafted home-made soup is not responsible for all the evil in the world. Nor do I care if so-and-so's mother lets her eat sweets for breakfast. Sucks to be you.

Phew! That's better. Thanks for listening to me vent. :-)