Ok, as you know I have had a rather, ahem, freaking horrible week.  I haven’t even bored you all with half of it.

Don’t go!  I won’t whinge anymore I promise!  Well at least for tonight.  And what I have to say doesn’t constitute as whinging per se…..

On Friday nights we have sleepover in the loungeroom.  His highness (aka tiny terrorist, little turd, shit-and-toothpaste-mural-artist-extrodinaire, or my loving son Boo) has decreed that Friday night is the night that Mummy bunks down on the loungeroom floor while he does cartwheels around the room, pausing momentarily to fall, nappy clad arse first, onto said bed fellows face.  Until, at the very least, 3am.

Well tonight DH is working and in my bruised and battered and broken state I cannot possibly lug the queen sized mattress from our broom closet sized bedroom down the hall to the lounge.  So we are doing the sleepover in my room.

I had plans for tonight.  I was going to make the wands for his party.  I was going to get a head start on the washing for the weekend.  I was going to do some more of my looooong overdue advocacy work and reply to some emails.  But I am in bed.

Since 7.30pm.

Every other night it takes at least an hour to get him into bed, let alone asleep, but tonight?  He is quietly lying next to me staring at the ceiling while I type (thank God for laptops!) occasionally turning to ask me a question.

‘Hey mum, what is blood for?’

‘Where do moth’s mummies live?’  There was a moth in the room earlier

‘ What are we going to play tomorrow?’

I have so much to do.  I am going to be running around like a madwoman for the next week.  I really should get out of bed and get something done.

But right now I don’t think there is anywhere else I would rather be than hanging out with my Boo, laying side by side in my bed that is so warm and cozy.  His chubby little body snuggled close to mine, humming a tune that I can’t quite catch, his hand reaching out for mine.

The soft whisper,

‘I love you Mummy’

Yes, I have heaps to do. The washing, oh so much washing. But nothing in this world is more important than cuddling with my Boo.

I am sure everyone will understand.

Undies can be worn twice can’t they?

Sheesh! With all this time on my hands to just sit, cause my family are waiting on me and letting me rest so I can get better *gaffaw*, and blog surf, I have come across many a ‘Mommy Blog’.

While I rapidly watch my house go from showhome relatively tidy, to rack and ruin, I am reading about all these perfect women that manage to run a business from home, raise 4,000 toddlers all in cloth nappies/diapers, growing their own organic produce and baking everything from scratch, homeschooling teenagers *shudder* while being a top blogger with 8 million adoring fans.

These women manage menu plan, coupon clip (how I wish we had them here! Apparently if you do it right and go to 8 different stores making sure that you go through 6 different tellers at each store, you can get stuff for FREE!) and can their own produce while making their own designer clothes and selling them through their massively popular blog.

They are perfect soccer mums/moms with their SUV, running little precious from soccer to piano to extra lessons (cause precious is a GENIUS!) and while they wait for the practice to finish they knit blankets for the needy.

In their spare time they volunteer at church, go to bible study and completely remodel their bathrooms. When their equally perfect hubs *shudder* gets home from his high paying but deeply satisfying job she is an animal in the bedroom. With details the next day on the blog.

I am feeling deeply inadequate. I would link to these blogs but I don’t want to risk these perfect women reading my blog and pitying me. Or worse giving me advice.

I need some reality. I need to read about someone who doubts herself. Who believes that maybe, just maybe she made the wrong decision and is beating herself up about it. Someone who can’t be bothered cooking tonight so everyone had hotdogs….. or Macca’s. Some one who just wants to punch her husband in the head right now cause he is being an arsehole. And then blogs about it so we can laugh about it tomorrow.

Are there really that many perfect women in the world or are they all confined to the blogosphere? Are these women just trying to outdo each other in the perfection stakes and telling some porky pies on their blogs?

Well I might not be the perfect housewife, my house is often strewn with stuff, sometimes I even go to bed with my makeup still on, but,

I know what each of my kids favourite colours are – and Boo’s can change daily,

Who their friends are and their phone numbers,

Their friends seek me out to chat and so do my kids (no mean feat with teenagers),

I can count on a hug or even a kiss from any family member whenever and wherever I want,

My children know that they are truly loved even though I can’t give them everything they want,

My house is clean, it may not be tidy all the time but it is clean,

I have true friends that are just like me,

And I have fabulous taste in shoes.

And that is much better than being the perfect housewife.