I am so close to ad­mit­ting de­feat with these stroppy teenagers...

Wicklow People (West Edition) - - LIFESTYLE - Jus­tine O’Ma­hony

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.


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