(Sort of) in defence of Daddies

Mummy has read many a mummy blog in which Daddies are slated for making mess, displaying an unhealthy obsession with hardware and generally being unhelpful. Mummy would like to redress this balance by pointing out that this is not an exclusively male trait.

Mummy has recently gone part time. Mummy no longer works Mondays or Tuesdays. Mummy is clearly thrilled about having lots of lovely time to herself for all manner of delightful things like drinking coffee, going to the gym and reading books. Every other Mummy reading this knows this not to be true. Mummy really enjoys spending Mondays getting the laundry pile under control and trying to find her floor. And then repeating this on Tuesdays.

Mummy’s first week of part time bliss was punctuated by having to take Crotchet to a hospital appointment on Monday afternoon and accompanying said same munchkin on a school trip on Tuesday morning. Despite Mummy’s decreased window of opportunity, Mummy managed to fit in 5 loads of laundry, tidy the house (both on Monday and again on Tuesday of course), take the bins out, make delightfully nutritious meals for the whole family and tidy up after herself. (Mummy would like to take time at this stage to point out that she only makes such meals because she pays a nice company lots of lovely money to send her weekly boxes of organic food and foolproof recipes.)

Due to the dishwasher still being on its second cycle of the day, Mummy conceded that Tuesday night’s dishes would need to be done on Wednesday morning. Mummy was relieved to be going to work on Wednesday and was sure that Mrs Mummy (who does not work Wednesdays) would manage to unload and reload the dishwasher by the time she got home. And may even take Tuesday’s dried laundry off the airer.

Mummy arrived home on Wednesday to Mrs Mummy and two sugar-fuelled munchkins triumphantly brandishing a tray of homebaked cookies. In a kitchen full of yesterday’s laundry and dishes. Mrs Mummy had clearly also challenged herself to use every single mixing bowl and baking tray that she could find in order to complete this task.

Mummy straightened her face and complimented her delightful family on their baking feat, inwardly assuring herself that Mrs Mummy would have sorted out the dishwasher by the time Mummy came home from spin class.

After spin class, Mummy was confused to note that the kitchen looked rather a lot like it had done before she left. Just now complete with the remnants of the munchkins’ dinner on the table. And the evidence that Mrs Mummy had cooked said dinner strewn across the small portion of the kitchen counter that had previously remained free from Tuesday’s dishes and Wednesday’s baking.

Mummy decided that the best way to remind Mrs Mummy that she had overlooked her duties would be to clatter around the kitchen, tutting and hurling empty chicken nugget packets into the bin. Mrs Mummy took this as a sign that her kitchen based work was done for the day and went to read fan fiction on her phone.

Mummy changed tack, gently enquiring of Mrs Mummy what she had been doing today. Mrs Mummy gathered that Mummy was angry for some unfathomable reason and made an impassioned argument that she could not very well have been expected to do any more around the house after a busy day of texting a whole two parents to confirm playdates and vacuuming a false black widow off the ceiling. Mummy thought back to her criminal law studies and debated whether she might have a defence of provocation against Mrs Mummy at this stage. Mummy decided that probably intoxication was the safer option and spent the rest of the evening sulking into her prosecco.