Go Away Little Voice ...

Its Sunday morning and I am sitting in my pink, fluffy dressing gown at the kitchen table. Having read a few blogs I am now continuing to avoid any actual physical work by writing this ...

I don't know why it is that I have a gnawing feeling of guilt that I am doing nothing productive ... after all its not as though I've signed some sort of contract to be busy at all times, providing nourishment for my children or polishing various pieces of dusty furniture. I think it may be some sort of genetic failing present in most women. For some reason we feel that it is our mission in life to cook, clean, care for, organise ...

Luckily I don't seem to have the full on, OCD type gene. I may have the feeling of guilt when I sit down and do nothing but write, or read, but I don't actually do anything about it. I am aware of a small voice in the back of my head at this very moment telling me "Sarah, you really ought to get dressed and do some washing, or go to the allotment, or tidy your bedroom, or clean the fridge ..." But fortunately I have the strength of mind to ignore that voice and continue typing.

I think that I may well be part of a new generation of women who are moving on from the persistent necessity to clean, cook and generally skivvy about for their family. Or, of course, I could just be a rogue lazy cow.

I remember the very first time I heard that little voice in my head telling me to do something I would have preferred not to do. It was when my first son was about a day old. I had given birth by emergency cesarean and the whole experience had been a far cry from the dream of aromatherapy oils and shangrila I had hoped for. I recall him lying in his clear plastic, hospital cot crying and I knew he needed his nappy changing. I, on the other hand, needed a lie down as my operation scar was killing me and I felt faint. It dawned on me at that moment that there was nobody else around who could help this little baby and that this was my job now.

I think it was the very first time I had ever done something for someone else when really I needed to just go to bed and pull the covers over my sweaty, pain racked brows. I think it was then that the realisation of motherhood and all it meant, hit me. "Fuck"

It has been a long and slow recovery. For the first few years of motherhood I truly believed that I was the only one who could do right by my children and this belief resulted in a combination of huge resentment and an enormous amount of homemade produce. I lost count of the number of cakes I baked, sweet potatoes I mashed and poured into ice cube trays, or curls of hair I framed. (ok I admit that does sound a tad Hannibal Lecteresque ...)

Looking back there was no expectation from anyone but myself that I should do all this. My husband is the most wonderful partner who has no qualms about putting on a load of washing or ironing his own shirt for work. But that gene was rampant in my DNA.

It has taken time, but I now realise that what I do with my life is up to me. If I don't want to hoover my lounge then I don't have to. If I want to spend my day at the allotment, or not, then I will ... or won't. The world will not collapse if we have beans on toast for dinner rather than a three course, organic feast and if my son tells me he is not hungry at lunchtime then so be it. He is old enough to get himself some toast in an hour if he gets peckish then.

Does that make me a bad mum? I don't think so. I think it makes a happier, more relaxed, fully rounded person. I have learnt to ignore that pesky voice telling me that I have to do things. I don't have to do those things right now. They will get done when I want to do them ... or when I tell my boys to do them.

So, I am going to continue sitting here, looking out at my garden and the fence that needs painting. I shall continue to peruse the internet and possibly, in a moment, make another pot of tea.

Life with Teenage Boys ... give me strength.

I have just eaten a date and cranberry hot cross bun followed by a large mug of tea. I am allowed to do that because today is not a fast day ( see previous 2 posts ...) The reason I have eaten this frankly delicious combo of carbs and caffeine is because I share a house with two teenage boys. If I allowed myself full rein I would have eaten the whole packet of said hot cross buns ...

This holiday has consisted of me nagging them to revise for exams ... me nagging them to wash ... me nagging them to help around the house ... I have tried bribery and various other forms of corruption as well as the old fashioned "Do this or I will kill you!" technique. And, at the end of the day, none of it works. They are, before my very eyes, turning into two morose, lazy, rude, x-box obsessed monsters.

These are not my boys ... photo courtesy of the Guardian.

I know this is harsh. Despite this fact I do still love them and would probably throw myself infront of a speeding bullet to save them, but quite often these days they are rather hard to like. This may not be the accepted school of thought for a mum to take, but this is my blog and I'll write what I want to.

I have tried reasoning, tried cajoling, tried shouting, tried bargaining ... and nothing works. I wanted to do something with them each day ... visiting places, going to the cinema, going out to eat ... and yet they show no interest in this. This afternoon I had planned on taking them to the cinema and to McDonalds for lunch. I gave them a choice of films ... The eldest refused point blank to go. The youngest came along, but was so rude when I said he would be having the McDonalds for lunch rather than after the film for tea, that I took him straight back home.

So that is it. I have told them that I will no longer nag. They assure me that revision is under control and they "know what to do ..." so its over to them. If they are so grown up then they can jolly well get on with it. I will spend the next week of this holiday doing what I want to do ... garden centre, exhibitions, dinner, allotment. And they can continue with their x- box, their lap top, their ipad. They can fry their brains with internet waves and grow their thumb muscles to obscenely huge sizes through their obsessive use of gaming controls.

And when they fail their exams they will face an electronic free world. There will be no mercy. There will be no x-box, no .... nothing with a screen or a twiddly control. I am so sick of their attitude, their arrogance and their addiction to You Tube, Fifa 13, Minecraft and Facebook. I am no longer going to nag them ... the ball is firmly in their court. I hope they prove me wrong and both come out with shining results, but I fear they are in for a nasty shock.

You may think me a terrible mother and you may be right. I have never claimed to be a good mum. I know my boys could be much worse. They could be out on the streets drinking or doing drugs, having under age sex and vandalising the local cricket club pavilion ( God, how middle class does that sound ... ) but what I want is for them to achieve their potential. I hate to see an A grade student getting Bs and Cs, refusing to write anything down or read his set books. I hate feeling so incredibly frustrated and rejected by them. They do not want to spend time with me and consider me stupid and petty. They drive me nuts with their attitude and their complete lack of enthusiasm for anything.

I have spent the last 15 years doing my best for them and all they do is behave as if its their God given right to do what they want, when they want, with no regard for anyone else. I suppose to some of you my post might sound a bit pathetic, and reading it back I would tend to agree with you, but I am going crazy with frustration here. What happened to my little boys??

The day I see them both happy, in good jobs, with loving partners and their own obnoxious teenagers ... I will shriek with joy ...