Reflux and home admin

'Why don't you just...?'


Please don't start any sentences addressed to me with these words. 


Because being a full-time mother of young children is all about the small things. None of them on their own are a big deal, but they all add up. Your life is ruled by minutiae. All it consists of are loads and loads of small things. 


They might seem small to you, but it's insulting to imply that they're easy - you don't live in my world. So adding 'just' another thing to my To Do list is a bigger burden than it might seem at face value. 


I can't just do some extra hippy dippy relaxation shit every time I feed Felix, or hook myself up to the breast pump. Don't insist on my switching off all the lights every time I leave a room. It's okay to leave the telly on standby during the day. I don't want to spend ten minutes dealing calmly with Logie every time he has a tantrum about getting in the car. Time is precious. 


I can't carve out a special chunk once a day to do the exercises for my bad back, or just once a week to jot down features ideas, my blog, and hilarious things the boys have said and done. I'm a mum. I'm on the front line here. If everyone's been fed, washed and only sustained minor injuries in any given day, that's a victory. 


I can't just sleep if their lunchtime naps coincide, because I've got to book everyone's dentist and GP appointments (and argue with BUPA) while I can make phonecalls uninterrupted, then get a birthday card in the post by 5pm. I can't just ignore the mess in the house because I've got to sterilise the bottles and sort out the laundry before the cleaner gets here. I can't just chuck it all in the tumble drier because some of it would shrink. 


I want to be thinner but just 500 calories just two days a week isn't a good idea when you're breastfeeding. It is against my religion to have just one biscuit. 


Once the boys are down for the evening, I can't just have a bath with stupid candles and the thoughtful gift of bath oil that was actually from someone's present drawer, or exfoliate like single people do, because I've got to finish Ocado, package up two parcels and dig out the paperwork for my tax return before I go to sleep. 


One day I'd like to sort out which clothes I can actually fit into, which ones I like and which ones ought to go to a charity shop. Instead of wearing whatever is at the top of the pile and clean. I'd love to just organise the boys' clothes so that I don't come across something brand new and really nice which they'll never wear because it's now too small, having been hiding at the back of a drawer I haven't had time to sort out. 


I can't just fire back an e-mail about which date works best for you because I have three older e-mails that I owe diary management to first.  Don't blather on to me about any recipes that start "just chop an onion" because most nights I can't start cooking til they're both asleep and I like to eat before 9pm.  


I don't want to have just one glass of wine in the evening, because I'm gagging for it by 6pm and it's the only moment of the day where I feel the stress fall away from my shoulders. Letting a baby just cry for a bit isn't an option when you're fraught and tired, unless they are taken completely out of earshot.  


I know that this is what I signed up for. Being everyone's PA, housekeeper and carer. It comes as no surprise and I love my children madly. All three of those jobs get little enough respect (or pay) in the real world, but when you do all three as a 'housewife' you get even less. Because my 'job' consists of tasks that we all do every now and then, some people think it's okay to make suggestions about how I could do them more efficiently. I was prepared for domestic life, but not to be patronised.


I can't just rest on the two days Logie is in nursery when I only have Lix because I've got to go to the post office, get Lix's passport photos taken, wash and dry Logie's smelly animals before picking him up, get a new battery in my watch, pack everything up for the weekend, find a babysitter for next Thursday, order a new chequebook and collect the dry cleaning. Don't you dare use the fucking word 'just' in my presence.


ps Felix definitely has reflux, and the paediatrician thinks that was the primary cause of the rhinitis as well. He's on Gaviscon four times a day, and a new nasal spray. Since a visit to a paediatric osteopath around the same time he's been sleeping almost through the night, most nights. Halleluja! Maybe a bit more sleep will stop me being such a bitch.