MY SUNDAY STEW

Oh this morning, was so full of prospects and marvellous hopes. Today, I would conquer 'Mount Evergrowing Ironing basket', and I would play the wholesome momma card, and make my little family a stew for dinner. Goddess style, make up and all.

I set up the dreaded ironing board, and was honestly just motivating myself, when someone mentioned tea. Not a problem, I'm on it. I only had my breakfast half an hour ago, but some ginger cake would be nice right now. I knew it was procrastination in it's most obvious form, but I had a cup of tea and two slices of ginger cake anyway. 

My second attempt, 3 shirts in, and I swear I was nodding off standing up. I said so to my hubby, 'I'm literally nodding off here'. I slapped my face a little and ploughed on. Its just sooooooooo boring, and I find these days, if I stand still in the one spot for any time, or sit at all, I just start to fall asleep. Best to keep moving. 

I started to drink some water, which was doing the trick, despite my better judgement advising wine. I decided I was making some progress. The bottom of the basket was still nowhere to be seen, but I was hopeful. Until, that is, my dear little girlie decided she would swing out of the iron flex, ironing board, sleeves, anything I was ironing or just me. Eventually she deployed a new tactic, and stood between me and the ironing board, proceeded to bury her head against my thighs, in a bid to butt me away from the chore. Ordinarily, it wouldn't take much to persuade me to quit, but this was a serious serious mission if my family were to have clothes at all this week. 

Maybe it's time for her nap, that will let me get a good run at it. She called my bluff, had me fooled. She gladly co-operated with my nap suggestion. She snuggled into her cot, with her bottle, teddy and doddy, kicked her legs excited about the prospect of a midday snooze, or so I thought. Mammy! Maaaaaammy! Maaaaaaaaaaaammmy! Bouncing up and down, wide awake when I went to observe the sleep chances.

That's it, that's all I'm doing until next week. It's pointless, anyhow, the boys have now started running around chasing each other, and are using me and the ironing board to swing around as they do laps.

Perhaps, I'll make a start on dinner instead. I notice it's raining so I can't even ask the little ones to go dig a hole outside or something. I pull jigsaws, games, anything I can find to distract them, so I can peel a spud or two for the beautiful home cooked stew I had planned.

I peel, chop and slice as fast as I can, within safety limits. I have tears streaming down, but not entirely sure if it's the onions, or the fact our little 'nap- abandoning darling' is hanging out of my legs and wedging herself between me and the counter frustrating the situation. Consequently she also has tears streaming down her face too. The guilt... but the stew!

Stew is on, and I have only succeeded because I pulled the bad mummy card and put 'Frozen' on for the 10th time since we bought the dvd on Friday gone. Needs must! Only problem now, I'm not a major fan of stew for my own dinner. So, feeling slightly ambitious, or maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, I put a stir fry on for myself. Our middle cub declares "Ew something is really smelly mum, I'm not eating that". I felt like saying shut up, I may have, I can't be sure. But I know I definitely reassured him that I was eating the smelly stuff, and that they were getting lovely, delicious wholesome stew, because I am the best mum EVER :)

2 hours later, a solid whole 2 hours later, I plate up and serve my Sunday Stew to my little angels. No.1, all of a sudden does not eat spuds, or meat, and can see carrots, no. 2 doesn't like spuds with gravy/ sauce, and no.3... well... she took on some form of Katie Taylor and proceeded to give the spoon some powerful jabs and left and right hooks. There was also some commendable ducking, so much so, my hubby couldn't land a successful spoonful in her mouth, and so, she would never realise she loved it.

I didn't dare sit with my own dish amidst that madness. I tried hard not to take it personally and told myself, my cooking isn't THAT bad? Besides, none of them had even tasted it. Gave some to hubby.  He ate it all. I don't think it was out of fear. I asked the question, was it really that bad? Thankfully he laughed, and said no. 

So now, I have three kids, unfed, sitting on the couch, slightly deflated because they weren't allowed biscuits or ice-cream for dessert. I now have a MASSIVE pot of stew and a MASSIVE basket of ironing,  if anyone would please like to come and take either or both away. I also have a MASSIVE headache so maybe you could take me away too :)