Mummy, or Personal Skiv?

As the Brats get older, I always assumed that they would become tidier. I also hoped that they would make me cups of tea and massage my poor feet but I kind of knew that wouldn’t happen (not until they are at least 14).

However, despite them being 6 and nearly 5, they have gotten worse. 

Mini is the prime example of this. 


Here is a child who can proudly display her ability to use monkey bars, hang from swingsets by her feet and generally move around with ease. Get onto the subject of her getting off her bum and picking her shoes up, or putting her dirty clothes in the laundry, well, you’d think she had no feet. Or I’d asked her to run up Everest in under an hour.

Her room, or more so her carpet, is more shoes, clothes and toys than normal pattern. Her drawers are always a mess. No matter how many times I re-fold the whole lot (and she has a lot of clothes), it looks like a gang of women at a Next 24 Hour Sale has passed through looking for bargains.

No matter how many “Supernanny” type treats I offer for keeping things tidy, or pocket money for chores, nothing works. Neither does buying half of Ikea’s storage department. They leave what should go in the storage, beside the storage.

I don’t ask them to vacuum, polish or do washing. I do ask them to pick their sodding washing up- I actually think both of the Brats and Elder (who should know better) think that clothes can grow legs and walk to the machine. Kind of like the episode of the Young Ones where the socks followed Vivian to the launderette.

Yes, you see, Elder is just as bad. There are always socks, jeans and jumpers of his in the living room, unless I walk round on a daily basis to check.

Words cannot describe what greeted me on my return from Britmums Live. I nearly made it my Silent Sunday. Basically, anything the three of them had worn, eaten or drunk out of was in the living room. Their uniform was a pile by the kitchen door. Which baffles me as it is a mere two further steps to reach the washing basket, or better still the washing machine. I’m surprised none of them had the plague. They all slept on the sofa bed (Elder swears blind the Brats wouldn’t go to bed and collapsed, exhausted there and he left them), ate cake for breakfast (it had jam in it, so apparently that may as well be toast) and take out for dinner. 

Its a wonder they can actually function enough to turn the TV on.

I was very pleased I didn’t have a hangover on Sunday as I had to get stuck in, getting all the uniform washed and dried for the day after, not easy as the washer works when it wants to, and the weather was awful.

What can you do?

In the words of Mini last night, as I wielded the vacuum, and asked her to move her shoes out the way “why would I clean up, Mummy? That’s what you’re here for“.

There’s no reply to that, is there?

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