Things I Miss Since Having Kids

I used to live a simple life.

I could wake in the morning, grab a brew and a slice of toast, flick the radio on and dance about as I got dressed for work.

I could come and go as I pleased, and ALL my money was mine.

Then I had kids.

So, here are just a few things I truly miss — and what they have now been replaced with.

The Toothpaste – How I long for my once ‘gloop-free’ life!

We’ve tried them all.

Flip caps. Screw tops. Those really smart, standy-up ones where you push the top and a little slither of toothpaste comes out.

It doesn’t matter which one I buy, it still finds its way onto the sink, taps, plug hole… the little glass that we stand the toothbrushes up in, even the bloody toilet seat.

Seriously, it’s like they get bored halfway through brushing their pearly whites and start painting the sodding walls with it.

The Family Pets – I wouldn’t swap them. The kids… maybe!

They swear blind they’ll look after them.

They promise to always be there for them, love them, play with them, feed them, walk them…

That is, until they take a huge steaming dump (the dogs that is) and they have to pick it up.

You have never seen anyone out-act these teens.

“The dog’s done a whoopsie,” you say?

“Well, I just don’t believe it. I didn’t see a thing.”

All of a sudden, they’re terribly upper class and their dog simply cannot possibly be so disgusting as to defecate.

Silly me.

I must be mistaken.

KIDS!

The Biscuit Barrel – Just one is all I ask.

I figured I should start small.

For those of you with toddlers… it’s all heading your way.

I know it’s petty and perhaps, at the ripe old age of 36, I should have learned how to share, but I am sick to death of bounding excitedly to the cupboard only to be presented with mere crumbs!

I’ve even started buying biscuits that I am certain they don’t like and STILL there’s none left.

I just want a fucking biscuit.

Is it too much to ask?

The TV Remote – Since when did it live under the sofa?

It’s rare that I get full control of the TV as it is.

When I do get the odd hour here and there, I first have to mount a full-blown search and rescue mission to find the bloody remote.

Perhaps laziness plays a part.

I mean, I could just walk over to the telly and do it from there.

It’s not an issue until the adverts suddenly blare out at twice the volume and I shit my pants.

Gone are the days when it lived peacefully on the coffee table, alongside one mug of tea and a FULL barrel of biscuits.

Knowing Whose Fault It Is – “It Wasn’t Me!”

Before I had children, if I ran out of milk — I had drunk the last of it.

If my laundry got dyed pink — it was me who left the red sock in the washing machine.

If there was a kitchen full of dishes — it was me who was too sodding lazy to do them.

I always knew who to blame.

Since having the three little slobs that currently reside in my house, I never have a clue whose mess is whose.

They’ll all bat their lashes and look at me with those sorrowful, puppy-dog eyes, and I’m somehow expected to forget that I now have to clean an entire house before Nanny comes to visit and pulls a Kim and Aggy on my arse.

There are many more to add to the list, but as I sit here typing, I can see the mess of the living room forming before my eyes.

If I don’t get a handle on it soon, I’ll be knee-deep in teenage slovenliness, with no idea how the hell I’m going to escape.

And I suppose that’s another thing I miss.

A clean fucking house.

Apparently, having kids means losing your stuff, your money and your fucking biscuits.

If you’re still here, you might as well have another nose around.

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Because apparently I have more things to complain about.

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Thanks for reading.
— Shannon x