Afraid to be Alone …and can we murder Horatio Caine?

I really had quite a difficult spell over December/January. I find this time of year really hard. Work starts to pick up from about September and in December it is crazy – insane stuff.

I do my utmost not to urinate at work, as I don’t actually have the time – no really, I have unbelievable bladder control.  I am in print and production and it seems like every year our clients are shocked and stunned that Christmas will fall on the 25th of December.

Every year it is this chaotic rush around and it builds to a fever pitch as the 25th approaches. It is so stressful and I am pushed further than I am willing to go.  Every year the schools my kids attend, plans an end-of-year something, so I am flying around trying to attend all these things at more than one school.  Add to that your own company end of year function, your department end of year function, your must see friends before end of year, and basically that leaves you with about two hours free on the 17th December sometime between 2 and 4 in the morning.  It is absolutely certifiable  i n s a n e!!

My son also has a birthday in December so that only adds to the pressure.  It’s the planning, booking a venue, the invitation, the annoying parents who do not RSVP.  These really pip me over the edge.  So I never know if they are coming or will just arrive, so I start catering and planning for “possible children.” <double scream> Several times I have had kids arrive whose parents did not RSVP – this is not a totally rare occurence.

Then my absolute favourite – Christmas shopping.  I end up having to do it on the 22 – 24th, as it is the only time I have!!  I end up dragging kids through shopping centres.  Usually  the combination of my frayed nerves and the sound of Mariah Carey doing what ever Christmas warble she has thrown together this year, is unfortunately enough to take what ever HO out of the ho-ho-ho christmas jollies for me.

This year was EXTRA special. I was dealing with “being-abandoned-by-my-maid-who-was-filling-in-for-my-actual-maid, as-my-actual-maid was-home-in-Zimababwe-for-the-holidays” situation.  Suffice to say I was one Valium short of a full nervous breakdown.

This set of circumstances pushed me into an entirely new sphere of off-the-hinges behaviour.  It even shocked me a bit.

In the first week of January I stood in my house trying to assess my situation whilst Isabelle was firmly attached to my left hip, with my hair tightly entwined around her mucus incrusted chubby little fingers, which she was rhythmically pulling. I had stopped feeling the pain of my hair being pulled from the roots, as my mind had already left “the place where it is sane” and had started shopping in the crazy aisle.

I was standing there and realized that:-

1. The dust blowing in from our destroyed garden is doing my head in. No matter how many times I wiped a surface, it is black with dust 10 minutes later.  And I really am not a neat freak, but this black grit on the toilet and every other surface was really doing me in.

2. The dog is scratching because she needs Frontline and I have not had a chance to get to the vet to buy it. Every time she scratches a little bit more of my sanity vacates, as I picture the fleas jumping off her and on to my children.

3. Georgia is deciding now is a good time to empty her toy boxes all over her room (see earlier note regarding no maid)

4 Connor is arguing with me about everything and right now, I really need a large glass of wine, a long lie down time and to be left alone.

5  To really crown it all Kennith is on a business trip to China, so I am not going to be getting any help for a good seven days at the least. That might have been the deal breaker right there.

6  I feel like  am this awful mother as I am not coping with my kids with my house, and my inability to have a chance to shower or put my contact lenses in are doing nothing for my sense of morale.

When all of those pieces started to come together and make a Rorschach pattern of my life, what was left of my little brain just went “pop!”

I lost it  ……  totally off the rails stuff.  Its the one where one minute you are fine and then **poof** it’s over.

I grabbed Connor and Georgia and banished them to their rooms and told them that today is “throwing away toys day” and clean up room day. And no one comes out of their rooms until toys are sorted and rooms cleaned.  I might have been shrieking like a fish wife at this point – actually guaranteed.

Of course I am doing this with crazy hair, eyes a little too wide open behind smudged glasses, and no doubt spittle being emitted from the corners of my mouth.  It really could not have gone much worse.

Isabelle was crying as she was no longer on my hip. Georgia started to cry because I forced her to start throwing away her toys and I was screaming.  Connor started to cry because he could not watch the television programme he wanted to, and he realised mom was going suicidal on him …… and really I wanted to cry, but I screamed instead.

I decided to keep this up for about three hours. Then I was exhausted, my nerves were raw, and I was sure that I was going to kill someone.  It really was just a case of where to bury the bodies.

Once the toys had been sorted – which as you guessed it, I ended up doing in my now rather manic episode.  Once everyone stopped crying and sniffling, I threw them in the car and we went down to McBadFood for a nutritious meal and a crappy toy!

I do not know why I get myself in to this state. If Kennith is left with the kids, you would find him lying on the couch watching his favourite show, and occasionally scratching his scrotum for some light relief.

Isabelle would be in her cot, having the longest afternoon sleep of her life. Georgia and Connor would be in the television room, high on too much Oros, and happily watching Cartoon Network, while their brain cells died one cell at a time.

Sure the house would look like a scene from CSI. The one where you really hope that this is the episode where someone murders Horatio Caine for his annoying mannerisms, and quirks. The thing about him is that he has to pause, remove his glasses and say something completely redundant to anyone with half a brain. For example, standing over a drowned person – takes off sunglasses and looks at nothing in particular and says : ” This person wasn’t just drowned… they were killed.” However I digress …

Kennith somehow is able to manage our children and our house without getting himself in a total state. Part of his tactic is to totally ignore the state of the house, and do make the kids what ever is the easiest for him.

Me, I am afraid of being left alone with my house and my kids without some sort of domestic help to intervene. I do worry that one day Kennith is going to come home to find that I have run away, or there are dead bodies strewn over the just washed white tiles.

But for now I take deep breathes, and try to find my happy place …. and pray that December stays far far away from me right now.

Leave a comment


  1. The friend that made you do this..

     /  February 2, 2010

    Kennith is absolutely right, it is women being judgemental of other women but then most things are – my dh says most men don’t notice half the petty crap we girls do. I swear an oath to the women I know and those I am yet to meet that I will take them, their snotty kids, dirty homes, unkempt hair and unironed clothes for what they are – things we just haven’t gotten around to yet.

    • reluctantmom

       /  February 4, 2010

      I still managed to make judgement about a woman who has three children and whose house was looking chaotic on the weekend. I kept thinking, she could have tidying up a bit. Funny I did not once think of the husband that he should of tidied up a bit. I think we have a long way to go to de-programme ourselves!!!

  2. Kennith

     /  February 1, 2010

    At the risk of regretting it later I thought I should comment. Am I not correct in pointing out that it is usually women who judge other woman on the state of their kids/house etc. As a guy it is not something we notice, or get concerned about, whether it is ours or someone elses.
    So, it is not really society judging women, but other women judging women, which begs the question why the husbands are the ones who have to deal with the frustrations.

    On that note, I will go back to my corner and hide quietly.

  3. The friend that made you do this..

     /  January 29, 2010

    Yey, someone else who agrees with me – I’ve always said that if visitors arrive and the house is a tip then I’ll be the one that’s judged, not my dh. No one ever says that he’s a slob if things aren’t perfect but they’ll dish the criticism my way with no hesitation!! Time to stop caring what others think… Yeah, right!!

  4. Tania

     /  January 29, 2010

    U r definately not alone in this one. If I didn’t know any better I would say you were writing the parts about MY husband when you mentioned Kennith. I have tried of so MANY times to just switch off and let be as Jason does, within an hour or 2 I crack & get stuck in to organise and rearrange and clean and dust and wash and and and… Society has always judged the appearance of a persons children and home on the adult female person… never do they say the adult male person doesn’t know how to care for his kids or the adult male person is untidy and unkept in his living quarters… its the adult female person that is talked about and scoffed at.

  5. Nicky

     /  January 29, 2010

    Oh at last!!! Someone who shares my hate for Horatio, and his ridiculousness!!! Why they insist on keeping him on the show is BEYOND me.

  6. The friend that made you do this..

     /  January 29, 2010

    Oh friend, these sound like my thoughts.If it makes you feel any better, even though my kids are older, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, the hectic job and the travelling husband still de-rails me on a regular basis. The problem with all of this is actually not the circumstances but the guilt that I don’t relish the responsibility but that it weighs me down. I think it’s because if things go even slightly “off-perfect” there is no one else to blame but myself. It’s the same “watch-me-cope” attitude that’s landed me in the doldrums before.When real life overwhelms me I think that it’s because I’m deficient in some way and not because I have, in relative terms, to deal with a lot more than a lot of other women. Wanting straight-A, well-adjusted, beautiful children, a welcoming home with nutritious meals and a fantastic job don’t go well with a travelling partner! The fact that he travels so that we can have a better life just adds a whole new dimension to the guilt too but let’s not even start on that one… think I’m actually just a spoilt brat..more guilt…. Keep writing, you give a voice to feelings that so many of us have.


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