Wednesday on Wednesday (just about)

I enjoy reading blogs which give a clear insight into people's personal lives. In other words, I am very nosey. This morning I looked at a blog in which an American 'stay-home-mom' showcases her home. The blog was so positive, oozed with pride, had a self-assured, assertive feel to it. Though not to my taste, her home was immaculate, and brimming with well-placed  stuff. I should have read it and looked at the pictures thinking 'good for you, girlfriend!'. The inherent negativity I carry  just can't help itself, I found myself mocking it.
My thoughts must stem from jealousy, insecurity and sheer cynicism, just a lady who's sharing her life like so many of us.

Hours of fun await...

There were eleven comments on a post about favourite cleaning products, mostly starting with 'I love this post'. I both pity and envy people who claim to 'love' cleaning. when I watch daytime television (usually during periods of mild depression) the commercial breaks seem to be speaking to me. The message I hear is;  "buy these cleaning products woman, and put some slap on". "Spray chemicals everywhere, and 'millionize your lashes' that will ensure your reputation as the worlds best mum and wife are upheld". I saw an ad yesterday, I think it was for Harpic, which tells us that everybody judges your toilet giving it marks out of ten. That's a battle I've lost even after cleaning mine. Peach bathroom suite which I can't afford to replace, wonky 'white' seat which never looks clean because I put loads of bleach on it, turning it to a wee-stained looking colour and dodgy flush. One out of ten for effort.
I see clean-a-holicism as just as much a compulsion as having pride and high standards. Towards the end of my three pregnancies I had a true insight into this. I simply could not sit down until everything had been scrubbed, polished and tidied. Most of my thoughts centred around what chore had to be completed next, and there was little room for satisfaction because I never got to the end of my to-do list. My imagination had to go into power-save mode, there was no room for it. Spontaneity  was also out of the question, I had to have order, routine and 'slots' for everything. I felt permanently tense. I know you could argue that hormones played a part, but I get the impression that friends and family who are a bit obsessive about cleanliness also feel tense until everything is done. Perhaps I'm just plain lazy?...

The very t-shirt

It's taken me all day to complete this post, I started at 9.30 am, it's now 23.05.
It has been a  glorious, text book early Spring day, with a two-hour jaunt to the park. The first sight we were treated to was of two blokes who initially seemed to be without a child. They had a giant bottle of  white wine each, and were chain smoking. Neither smoking or drinking alcohol are allowed in actual play area of the park. They were dressed quite respectably, and were trying their best to look like it was quite normal to be guzzling plonk on a park bench at 10:30 am whilst in charge of a 3 year old. The child, a girl who looked reasonably well cared for,  (clean clothes, cheap but new looking shoes) was just playing on her own happily. Occasionally she'd shout "dad look at me" or "can you help me", she was ignored most of the time. After a while she took her coat off, she had a t-shirt on which was too small. When I got a closer look, I realised it bore the charming slogan 'Future WAG'. The responsible duo were asked to put out their cigarettes and put their wine in a bag, they left, saying "sorry Sir" to the young man who had nervously approached them.  When she asked why they were leaving, the girl was told 'because that man doesn't want anyone to have fun'. The future WAG looked confused.
That is my day, I'm off to clean my teeth....