Our House In The Middle Of Our Street

My hubby’s job involves working odd hours. He works on a rota of shifts ranging from working an early shift which is up at 5am and home by 5pm. A late shift where he leaves home at lunchtime and is back by midnight. And the shift I dread the most, nights, leaving home at 8pm and arriving home in time for breakfast and with sleep on his mind. Unfortunately, the kids and our dog don’t really understand the ‘Daddy needs to sleep’ concept and it is a constant battle when nights fall on a weekend, for me to achieve a quiet house. Our children are really adept at the loud whisper or managing to ‘talk quietly’ but then decide to start up a really noisy toy, causing the dog to bark and for them to shout. However, the saving grace is that a week of nights normally follow with a week off work for my hubby. This is obviously a good thing as hubby will willingly walk the dog and do the school run, allowing me time to catch up with my work. Unfortunately it also means that he will feel that the week needs to involve some sort of project that often turns the house upside down. I don’t want to appear ungrateful as I know I will benefit from it in the long run, but it’s just the chaos in the interim that is hard to handle.

My living room

My living room

I am thankful of his hard work, he could spend his week off doing nothing but I suppose part of me feels guilty at how much he achieves in his short space of time compared to my often neglected household chores. The minute he picks up a paintbrush, I feel I ought to be simultaneously cleaning out my kitchen cupboards stating that it’s ‘kitchen cupboard Tuesday’, demonstrating how diligently I keep the house clean. In reality, housework involves just about covering the basics of hoovering, dusting and an occasional mopping of the kitchen floor. This is through lack of time and impulse and I constantly promise to ‘give this house a good clean’ on a regular basis.

I suppose hubby’s enthusiasm to get things done also reminds me of how pretty useless I am on the decorating front. I could paint a wall sure and probably hang a bit of wallpaper at a push but any maintenance issues are firmly left to him leaving me feeling like a bit of a 50s housewife. There was a dripping noise coming from our conservatory yesterday, when hubby asked me how long it had been occurring I had assumed it was just normal considering the rainfall and had been happily ignorant of it. Apparently it was not normal and needed fixing! I can happily embark on writing an article where I have to research all manner of subjects not necessarily of interest to me. But ask me to prepare a room for decorating by having to sand it or scrape wallpaper off the walls and my heart sinks. The ironic thing is and my hubby would be happy to point this out, is that the living room project that is in full throttle this week was pretty much my idea. I was lured by the perfect show rooms of Ikea and the promise of bookcases and french dressers in my living room. I had envisioned how my living room could resemble a grown up space and not an extra toy room for the children, which is how it has been for the last 9 years. We recently built a conservatory which meant a new dumping ground for the kids to use, so I figured it was time to reclaim our living room. I just forget about the upheaval it causes getting to the point of finished.

So, I will try to paste on my air hostess smile as I squeeze between living room furniture that is currently housed in our hallway and kitchen. I will continue to be tea lady for my hardworking hubby who is hopefully going to finish the job he starts before moving on to another. And I will think of the end result to help me along the way and try not to mind the squat that my living room currently resembles. Patience is a virtue after all.

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