Mother in Law: Did I miss the adulting course?

Recently, every Saturday morning, my husband has been getting the hump about all the things there are to do around the house, as if it is a surprise every week. And it has occurred to me that I basically have another child – not him, but the house. In the old days, one of us (me) would have stayed home to look after it and now we just try to give it a minimal amount of TLC when I would much prefer to be curled up on the sofa with James Martin’s lovely blue eyes looking through the TV screen at me like he can actually see me (like, truly see me, and love me for who I am) and my husband would prefer to play golf. 

Yes, we have a dishwasher and my gran didn’t. But the dishwasher doesn’t unload itself and put everything away. It doesn’t wash up the things that don’t fit in it. The microwave doesn’t clean itself when the porridge boils over. Not only do I have the neediest coffee machine in the world, but I have also recently discovered a significant amount of mould accumulating in the inner grinding cogs. Not quite as mortifying as when I found mould in the formula milk-making machine, but nearly. 

Mould is actually quite a problem. We’ve recently realised our extension is so well insulated that there is no ventilation and the back of the sofa now has black dots on it. And even though we squeegee the shower every day, limescale and mould are relentless there. 

Our cleaner ‘doesn’t do tidying’, which is unfortunate because neither does anyone else apart from me. Specifically, no one throws away empty things. If I walked round the house now, I guarantee I could find half a dozen empty blister packs of paracetamol or other medication that people have put away rather than putting in the bin. This article isn’t about my awful children, but last Thursday before netball, Deceptively Angelic Looking Child 1 (DALC1) left her disposable contact lens packets on the sink in the downstairs toilet. When she got in, she left the lenses themselves on the sink in the bathroom. 

I am very aware of how privileged we are to have a cleaner, but tidying so that she can clean is so stressful. And I am talking basics, like emptying the bathroom bin because I don’t think she should have to do that. 

It doesn’t help that my husband and I have totally different priorities. He cares a lot about the house not falling down (there were some suspicious cracks recently, but all is well), the house not being burgled, and there being about a 12 inch square bit of worktop clear for him to make food. I want EVERY SURFACE in the house completely clear. And warm, inviting lighting. I literally care more about these non-existent burglars judging my housekeeping skills than about what they would take from me. 

As for DIY, we have three cupboard doors in the house that fall off the second anyone leans on them, so I spend my life saying ‘don’t lean on that door’. Our front door should really be painted every year. Our shed won’t make it through another winter. I could walk around every room and find a job for a handyman, but then I have to deal with the handyman – including but not limited to the arduous process of arranging for him to come, chasing him for a quote, chasing him for a date to come, forgetting he hasn’t come back to me, chasing him again, and so on. 

I still don’t know how to garden. I think I’ve left it too late to plant any spring bulbs. I love that DALC2 and her friends occasionally bolt out of school and over our garden fence, but I have to immediately leg it back, too, to clear up dog poo before they step in it. It has been too wet to give the grass a final cut and I don’t know if we still can or if there is some reason why we shouldn’t now. Sometimes I feel like I missed the adulting course. 

Back to these mod cons that were supposed to make it possible for us to both go to work. Well, I don’t know how to turn the lights off in DALC1’s room now. I have to text her when she’s on her way to school and she does it from her phone. It is a similar situation with the heating – I have to ask my husband to turn that on now we have an app, and that’s a problem when you think that, previously, nine times out of 10 I was putting it on secretly.

I do think there is a point in the future when technology will help a lot more than it does now. When the dishwasher tells you that you’ve stacked it badly, rather than you waking up to 10 dirty plates and an upturned lunch box full of murky water. When the robot cleaners and lawnmowers really work well. When your fridge texts you to say you’ve run out of milk. But for now, be reassured that (unless there really was an adulting course that I missed) you are not alone in finding this all hard work, especially after a day’s hard work. 

Some facts and identities have been altered in the above article