Cracks in my life

Cracks showing in my marriage.

Daddy goes to work at the same time every day during the week.

He wakes up.

He gets dressed.

He sets off for work.

He returns at the end of the day and that is his day finished.

Daddy has nothing else to worry about once he has finished work for the day.

Daddy is tired after a long day at work.

Mummy works whenever she can fit it around children. Mummy tries to work really hard whenever she can so that the family can afford to do nice things and go to nice places. Mummy also hopes that one day, if she works hard enough...that they will be able to afford a bigger house, with a bedroom for each of the children. (With a space for a dishwasher)

On a weekday, Mummy will wake up with the children, she will give them breakfast and get them dressed, she will endure the constant battles that her threenager continuously decides to put her through every single day.

Mummy will throw her hair up into what can only described as a massive mess and she will take the children to school resembling some sort of morbidly obese zombie.

When Mummy arrives back from the school run she will put on a load of washing, she will wash the pots, then she will look at the mess of the house and wonder HOW THE ACTUAL is it possible to do ALL OF THE THINGS, ALL OF THE TIME. Mummy will rush around like an absolute twat to get everything done in the small window she has child free.

When Mummy has finished her jobs and she has collected the smallest child from Preschool at 11.45am she will arrive home and start to think about the list of jobs she has yet to complete. After making lunch for the little one she will think about:

Activities that are to be attended.

Uniforms that need to be ready.

Meals that need to be cooked.

Packed lunches that need to be ready.

Spellings which need to be learnt.

Letters that need to be read.

Emails that need to be answered.

Bills that need to be paid.

The house being tidied yet a-fucking-gain.

The smallest one being occupied.

All before she can even begin to think about starting work. Her actual job.

Mummy has to worry about ALL OF THE THINGS. all of them whilst Daddy sips his hot coffee in his office.

When Mummy has a day off of work, she still does all of the above and more, she still has 1001 things to worry about...EVEN on ‘her day off’

Daddy has two days off a week, and whilst Mummy is catching up on her work and is extremely busy with clients, Daddy feels as if he is entitled to a day sat in front of his PlayStation.

Daddy spends roughly half of his younger days off sat on the toilet, looking at his phone.

Daddy doesn’t worry that the children might be bored..even though he is the ‘fun’ one.

(To be fair he is the fun one, Mummy is too exhausted)

Daddy doesn’t worry about learning spellings, reading school books or tidying the house.

Daddy doesn’t worry about uniforms being ready.

Or packed lunches...

Daddy doesn’t need to worry about the washing of clothes...or the putting away of them.

Daddy doesn’t worry about washing the pots.

Or fucking anything for that matter.

Unless he is asked, Daddy doesn’t just crack on with any of the things.

Because it is Daddy’s day twatting off.

When Mummy mentions to Daddy that she ‘doesn’t have enough time in a day.’ Daddy the massive Cockwomble replies “Thats just life. Isn’t it!”

Daddy doesn’t have a sodding clue.

And that is why...

On a Sunday evening...

Whilst witnessing the carnage around her, Mummy drinks lots and lots of grape juice.

Because she bloody deserves it...before the school run tomorrow.

The end.

#passthewine #anythingtonumbthepain