Got My Groove On

Ironically, it was a discussion about division that brought our neighbours and us together. As scintillating as the exchange about the state of our shared fence was, conversation soon turned to the small screaming creatures we now worked for. Recent parents themselves, they mused at all the spare time they’d had before their little angel sucked every minute out of every day and every penny out of every pay day.

I nodded along in agreement thinking of all that ‘me’ time I wouldn’t be seeing again for forty years. At 2am that morning, woken by the screaming controller, I made the most of being unable to get back to sleep by wondering what I achieved before I traded disposable income for disposable nappies. Weekend shopping trips to Paris, handbags, shoes, eating out, holidays, more shopping and as much time to myself as I could stand. Not necessarily achievements just pure, self indulgent, heaven.

That said, somewhat unbelievably, I find myself actually quite enjoying driving the length and breadth of Sussex in pursuit of bargains. Few handbag purchases have ever come close to the value induced high I got from my recent Tesco discovery of £7.60 for baby table and chairs. Every time someone visits, they get treated to the table and chairs tour.

The transformation doesn’t stop there. I’ve begun opting for repair rather than replacement. I’ve started cooking food in efficient little batches and freezing for future dates when I may not be inclined to cook. I have a range of Tupperware to rival Lakeland Plastics and spend excessive amounts of time comparing the per kilo weight of individual vegetables versus prepackaged for optimum value.

When I found myself angrily muttering expletives over the discovery of Accountant’s recently ironed and unworn clothing he’d unpacked and dumped in a crumpled heap on the bed, a shocking realisation hit me. I had become my mother. Memories of her begging a teenage me not to trample my clothes into the floor ran through my mind. Like Accountant, I cared not and continued my reign of indifference. As such, I decided to do something very unmummyish and emailed Accountant immediately to inform him that I would no longer be doing his ironing. He’d had his three warnings.

In spite of Accountant, I’ve decided that I don’t miss ‘me’ time all that much. That’s not to say I don’t love a sit down at the end of the day but it so much more delicious when you feel like you actually deserve it.

In short, I think I've found my housewifey groove. The cliche is true, the best things in life really are free (or at least, if you shop around, excellent value). Yes, after eighteen months, I’ve finally adjusted.

As it's a Bank Holiday weekend, I'm giving myself a long blog weekend holiday to eat Easter Eggs and double dig the garden - oh yes, I know all the terminology! Thrilling soil based updates and Accountant gardening mishaps to follow on Tuesday.