I am so close to admitting defeat with these stroppy teenagers...
I’M at that stage of the school holidays where I’m starting to begrudge them breathing!!
They stagger out of bed, well after it is acceptable to call it breakfast time but too early for lunch and demand to be fed.
This means I can’t shove a bowl of cereal in front of them and have to resort to what those who have time on their hands, refer to as brunch.
Now brunch is for people who can afford to spend two hours over Eggs Benedict and The Times.
I am not one of those people. Brunch in our house is on a Saturday and Sunday and involves sausage sandwiches and a mug of Barrys tea which is hoovered up in 5 minutes flat.
I don’t have the time or the inclination to be doing ‘brunch’ for stroppy teenagers mid week.
Teenagers who after being fed, then throw themselves on the sofa with their phones for the afternoon only to tell you they’re heading out ten minutes before dinner is ready and they don’t want anything to eat.
And I don’t mind admitting that they are filthy little feckers too.
There is so much mould growing on dirty plates and cups in the The Eldest’s bedroom, which
I have told him to remove several times, that were Health and Safety to come in, we’d be shut down and that would be the end of Mamma’s Motel which might not be such a bad thing!
Last week I invited some of ‘the girls’ over for a drink. It was a good excuse to give the house a proper clean rather than a once over and I have to say it was sparkling by the time I finished.
The offspring were warned, under pain of death to keep the place tidy.
‘Why do we have to keep it tidy? Our house is homely….. lived in’ says The Eldest as I retrieved a dirty sock from behind a sofa cushion and the remains of a jambon from a plate on the floor.
‘Well that’s one way of putting it but ‘lived in’ is not what I’m aiming for so just do what I ask. I don’t want people saying we live in squalor.’
‘Mam, we don’t live in squalor, we just live in a messily chaotic environment,’ he informs me cheerfully. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
Five minutes before my guests arrive, I do a quick check on the bathroom, the clean towel is on the floor and the loo roll holder is empty. I am fit to kill.
I turn around to let a roar out of me and the dog pees on the hall floor.
I wipe up the pee, hang up the towel, get some toilet roll and light a scented candle.
Sometimes you have to admit defeat.
‘MAM, WE DON’T LIVE IN SQUALOR, WE JUST LIVE IN A MESSILY CHAOTIC ENVIRONMENT,’ HE INFORMS ME CHEERFULLY