I can only assume that the idiot who made up the phrase, ‘if you want something done, ask a busy person,’ hadn’t ACTUALLY met a busy person.
There much be a point where you nail the balance between being a parent/ having a job/ applying eye make-up to both eyes before leaving the house/ visiting your own family more frequently than just Christmases and funerals.
But I’m not sure when you get to that point.
I kind of imagined that as the children got older, I would manage to create a bit of time for myself to read the odd page or two of my book. Or, God forbid, go and get a bikini wax.
But the fact that, according to my Kindle, I haven’t read more than 10% of We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves since I downloaded it two years ago, leads me to think that isn’t the current situ.
And as for managing to get a wax? Well, I don’t know how I’d begin to explain to a beauty therapist how I’d let things get so unruly, unless I’d been kept it solitary for the last decade.
So. I’m going to get a grip.
I’m going to get organised.
And I don’t mean just rewriting my jobs list to include things I’ve already done (brush teeth, drop children off at the childminders, make bed) so I have things to tick off, leaving the big stuff unfinished.
When I first had my daughter, I had a rule that if I got one thing done that day, it was a success.
Now, the policy is, start 30 things badly and hope to fuck that I don’t leave a child somewhere or that the gas doesn’t get cut off as I’ve walked round with the unpaid bill crumpled up in the bottom of my bag for months.
I’m going to get one thing done a day from the ‘I’d rather eat me own shite that do that’ list.
So everyday I will be a little bit closer to being a grown-up.
The big stuff will become smaller, and the small stuff will just get done.
First things first though.
I'll write the list.
Then rewrite it in my best handwriting obviously.