Do you secretly find being a mum boring?
Posted Tuesday 11th March 2014 By Ericka Waller
So a recent article in The Telegraph suggests that the secret price of Motherhood is utter boredom. It also suggests we must not admit this because ‘It is mandatory to enjoy motherhood at all times, no matter how you really feel.’
Sometimes, after waving the husband off on his busy day of Directing (whatever that actually means) and the children off to enjoy new experiences and draw sparkly pictures, I turn and survey the mess they left behind, and I feel very bored with my day already.
Toothpaste leaks on the dirty worktop. The dog is chewing the hairbrush. Nightdresses and deodorant sticks litter the floor. Half eaten toast is marmite-side-down on the stairs. My un-drunk tea stains the top of my to-do list.
I think about my family as I tidy things away, clean the wee-splattered loo and remove biscuits from under pillows. I wonder who they are playing with and what decisions they are making as I hoover up dog hair and dried play-doh. I hope they like the lunch I made as I eat the fluffy marmite toast.
I try and imagine what it must feel like to have something important to do, other than changing the sheets.
I imagine myself in a sharp suit, saying “We need to get all our ducks in a line by the close of play or we will miss the low hanging fruit in the pipeline” or “You will have to do it yourself. I don’t have enough bandwidth for that” to a room full of eager employees, instead of begging my two-year-old and three-year-old to use the toilet instead of the floor for their post Pre-School poo.
They just laugh at me.
Sometimes motherhood feels like holding the cone while everyone else gets to lick the ice-cream, and then finding a bin for the sticky tissues afterwards.
I am sure that in the long term, having their mum around will make my girls wonderful, independent women, but it’s a long time to wait till I feel any achievement.
As if I needed any more proof that Motherhood is boring, when I try to talk to the husband about my day he yawns and surreptitiously reads Sky Sports on his iPad while I bang on about forgotten book bags and the broken hoover. (Husband, if you are reading this, buy me a new hoover or I’m off!)