There comes a point in your marriage, when you come to the realisation that you can only really get away with calling each other a cunt once or twice a month. Any more than that and you are pushing your luck. Any more than that and you’re risking divorce and what can be referred to as a ‘domestic dispute’.

We can’t be having any divorces or domestic altercations, we now live in a terribly middle class village and are trying our utmost to fit in. And by fit in, I mean go completely unnoticed and not participate in anything. I just want to drink wine and wear pyjamas, I don’t give a shit about your running club, Susan.

We’ve been here two months now and apart from a small complaint with regards to our new soundbar (we got a bit overexcited with The Jungle Book Blu-ray) we are flying gloriously under the radar.

So no fights for us. Boo hoo.

Anyway this crucial point in our marriage came to us last Monday night. It had not been a great day, it had started at 6am as usual, it was dark and cold and a week of horrendous stress lay before us both. The washing machine had been broken since Wednesday, the odds of anyone having clean underwear were slim. The house was a tip, a cat had vommed on the stairs. I had to leave by 7.30am at the latest to drive a good hour to even get to work and my husband had to wrestle our son to my parents whilst answering phone calls and scanning emails.

Every morning is intensely stressful in this manner, I often could have killed my entire family  before 7am.

But anyway, we muddled through as always and off we went to spend eight hours working our arses off.

So we do that – the working all day thing and then at 5 o’clock I get up from the floor my desk to start making my way home.

Its Monday I’m not on pick up duty – I’m on get home, wash up and cook dinner duty. I’ve got £10 worth of petrol and Mariah Carey’s Greatest Hits, I’m feeling optimistic.

Except it takes me one hour and twenty minutes to get almost home. The almost being when my husband informs me he has to work late.

Not his fault, logically I know this. But  Jesus “what a cunt!!” I scream inside my Citreon “why didn’t he say ten minutes ago when I could have taken Junction fucking 7!!!”.

I turn around, I go back the way I’ve already been to pick up the urchin. I swap Mariah for Beyonce, shit just got real.

I arrive at my parents, oh they’ve all had such a fabulous day! Sprinklers and garden centres and dippy eggs – how glorious! I resist the urge to slam my head up against the hall mirror.

Now begins the saga of trying to get him out of there. “Chase me Mummy!” he shouts as he runs off up the garden. He doesn’t want to leave, of course he doesn’t he’s had a fucking fabulous time! Why would he want to leave them and go home with you?

You’re always exhausted and shouting at everyone.

I bribe him to the car with the promise of a Freddo. It’s now gone 7 o’clock, I’ve been driving for two hours I have no idea how to make good choices.

We get home. No husband, no idea of ETA – I start to feel sorry for him, he’s now been at work for ten hours.

Then the child punches me squarely in the left tit because he doesn’t want a bath and I figure my husband is an absolute selfish bastard for doing this to me and I open a bottle of wine.

I run the fucking bath and we negotiate the hair wash down to just a rinse. Kids don’t sweat right?

Still no husband. I am in no mind to read a bedtime story. We go back downstairs to watch Netflix. This is a terrible sin against my entire parenting ethos but I have gone rogue, wild even – I just want to survive, at this point I no longer care what’s best for my child.

Three Paw Patrols later my husband comes home.

I give him the look.

He’s fucking shattered. But I’m a bitch beyond it now and I don’t care.

Right on cue, our son empties the entire contents of his toy box onto the floor.

I throw my hands in the air, my voice goes all shaky and they both look terrified  “That’s it, I can’t cope anymore! I’m going to bed!”

Some people would call this a breaking point.

I stomp upstairs to bed, it’s like nine o’clock or something ridiculous.

The child appears in the doorway, all gorgeous and concerned

“Are you not feeling well Mummy?”

This is the moment I know somethings got to change, I’m a terrible person. A terrible shitty, shitty person. Who shouts and stomps off to my room like a thirteen year old.

I start apologising profusely. He jumps on my lap, looks up at me with those big blue eyes and farts like a filth wizard.

I laugh out loud.

My husband reads him a bedtime story, whilst I pour a second glass of wine and cook an absolute crap bomb of a dinner.

Domesticated bliss, my friends.

The next day I’m offered a part time job, which I interviewed for over a week ago.

We both react like we’ve won the lottery and rejoice in this amazing turn of events.

And we all live happily ever after.

The End.

(Part Time) Working Mother
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26 thoughts on “(Part Time) Working Mother

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  • October 6, 2016 at 9:05 am
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    They say that misery loves company. Not me. I hate misery and being around it but what you so eloqquently described is what I walked into last night, minus the me being the working late cunty spouse. It had been a trying day for the Mrs. and the wee ones. I had to have separate talks with each, and console a bleary, teary eye SAHM. My poor Mrs., was shattered. I gently walked on egg shells trying to right the awful wrongs of the day. Our little even sent out a fart during dinner that felt like a monor earthquake. Barely a smile. Some days just really suck, and this my friend, is why bloggers came about. To let those idyllic family fronters on Facebook know what really happens! Oh how I wish you a lovely day today and a new bottle of mama grape juice to get you through! M’wah to the #stayclassymama <3 <3 <3

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  • October 6, 2016 at 9:05 am
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    This post was a very timely reminder, sometimes I wistfully wish that I hadn’t give up my career to work from home but then I have forgotten everything you have described here! The hideous commute and that never ending juggling act where everything frequently comes crashing down. Yaaay to part-time job, fingesr crossed it can now get easier! #StayClassyMama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 9:44 am
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    Oh this did make me laugh! So utterly relateable! I love your honesty…Huge congrats on the new job. Going part time was the best thing I ever did. #StayClassyMama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 9:56 am
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    Congratulations on the job!! I was getting stressed just reading this, it sounds like you working part time will be a great thing. Also I sympathise with Paw Patrol, it makes me want to gouge my eyes out!! #stayclassymama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 10:37 am
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    God I am going to sound like such a fucking suck arse but I LOVE this! I feel like i am semi stalking you and being really sychophantic. But…you’re just so funny. You need to get a job writing funny shit or something…not working in some job ten hours away. I don’t want to join Susan’s fucking running club either. You can tell her from me, K?

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  • October 6, 2016 at 12:34 pm
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    Oh My God, superwoman doesn’t even cut it. I’m so so pleased for you, the new job sounds like a true ray of sunshine! What’s that they say “Sun shines on the righteous” Hell yeah! #stayclassymama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 12:43 pm
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    LOVE THIS! I lived in a village once and felt exactly like you, so totally related to: I mean go completely unnoticed and not participate in anything…and as for Susan – had to read that bit to partner! Really enjoyed your humour, sympathised with your pain and congratulations on the new job! Alison x #StayClassyMama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 1:19 pm
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    Totally get it- this post makes me adore you even more! At some point I lose my shit everyday- sometimes in silence and sometimes…not so much.

    #stayclassymama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 7:02 pm
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    What a great read and so relatable. Love this blog. You keep it real! #StayClassyMama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 8:01 pm
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    Congratulations on the job. I really enjoyed this post, you made a disastrous Monday evening sound almost poetic. I am so glad I am not the only person with an irrational temper. #StayClassyMama

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  • October 6, 2016 at 8:13 pm
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    Yep. I totally get this! I’m self employed my husband is a teacher. Our work/life balance is a delicate thing but we make it work.

    Also the C word is totally acceptable everyday 😜 Haha!

    #StayClassyMama

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  • October 7, 2016 at 10:00 pm
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    I’m on mat leave with two under two and whenever I get ‘THE CALL’ saying hubby is going to be late, I pretty much use the same expletives as you, just in French (my hubby’s French). It’s perfect as noone really knows what you’re saying. #stayclassymama

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  • October 9, 2016 at 5:53 pm
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    Haha brilliant – you’ve just described my days at the moment! Totally feel for you at the last minute message from your hubby, childcare and working are just impossibly hard. Thanks for hosting #stayclassymama

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  • October 9, 2016 at 8:37 pm
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    That sounds so bloody familiar!! Love it xx #stayclassymama

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    • November 3, 2016 at 6:44 pm
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      Hi Alina, thanks so much – I already did the Liebster last year but I’ll try do it again soon! Please come and share your great content on our #StayClassyMama link up every Thursday x

      Reply
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  • January 6, 2017 at 6:49 am
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    This just made me laugh before 7am-when, like you, I’ve usually nearly murdered the whole family. Result.Mum laughs,the clan get to live another day. And the first line; I think you should seriously consider marriage guidance counselling as a career. Will share, must check out #stayclassymama

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    • January 6, 2017 at 7:37 pm
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      Haha thanks, jesus its hard isn’t it? Yes come and check out #StayClassyMama – we have a weekly linky for everyones posts/ vlogs and a brand spanking new Facebook group. It’s basically all about having a laugh – even at our own expense 😉

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  • April 14, 2017 at 12:46 pm
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    Still love this post, so relevant, so real. A blog that never sugar coats! #blogcrush

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  • April 14, 2017 at 9:10 pm
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    “I swap Mariah for Beyonce, s*** just got real” – possibly one of my favourite lines EVER! Hahaha!

    Congratulations on the new job and I hope that it helps to relieve some of the pressure. Also, congratulations because someone loved this post so much, they added it to the #blogcrush linky! #blogcrush

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  • June 16, 2017 at 7:00 am
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    I’m part-time but still feel like this on the days I work! Most days, by the time I’ve got them fed & in bed, I just want my own bed too… eugh!

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