My weekend ritual starts thusly.
Friday I finish work early, pick up my kids, get home, throw on my pjs, turn the heating on and vege on the couch with my babies.
Saturdays, the hubby gets a sleep in while I get up with the kids. What normally transpires is this. While the father of my children slumbers, I do a few loads of laundry. I unstack and then stack the dishwasher. I clean the kids bedrooms and clean the kids toilet and bathroom.
Sundays I sleep in (although most times I can't get back to sleep so I watch movies instead... Sshhhhh) and when I get out of bed, I find the kids running amok and the only 'responsible' adult glued to his ps3 with his headphone on, organizing some sort of zombie invasion with other like minded nerds scattered across the glove. And the kitchen is littered with the aftermath of last night's dinner and the morning's breakfast.
Have you ever washed a bowl with hardened Weetbix?? That shit sets like concrete and you pretty much have to use a frigging jack hammer to dislodge the remnants of breakfast.
So after a really shitty and brutal week, I had a brain snap yesterday. After much door slamming and throwing plates all over the benches, I told my significant other that I would not be doing much of anything other than sitting on my arse and doing what I wanted for a change.
In all of our together I have cleaned, washed, tidies up, cooked. Why??? Why am I the only one doing this???
We both work full time. Is it unreasonable to expect some help?? Screw that. Most of the mess belongs to my 3 children.
I have to say... It was very liberating to go on strike. He did not know how to react to my domestic goddess embargo.
Last night we had Hungry Jacks for dinner. The embargo continues. Let's see what today brings.
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