Being a Mum sucks arse

Getting ill and trying to still be a full-time mum….



As most of us Mums know, getting ill when you have a household to run, is not an option.  In fact, its impossible.  Unless you are actually dead, or in a coma, you still have to get up and do your crummy, painful, groundhog day, monotonous, shitty, underpaid, “is this really my life?”, how did I age so quickly(?),  job.  WE GET NO BREAKS!!! We’re Mums.  It comes with our thankless, shitfull (my new swear word of the month) kiss-my-arse, no one gives a crap, job.

Can you lay in bed, drinking hot lemon tea (with a shot of Whisky) and recover in peace while watching crap “E Hollywood” TV? Nope.  All you can hear are your children running riot outside your bedroom door while your TWO Domestic Helpers and husband (who is gutted you’re ill for selfish reasons) chase after them screaming at the top of their lungs.  What can I do, aside from step out of my bedroom, looking like the Devil himself, with tissue stuffed up my nose, eyes streaming, and a look that says “FUCK OFF”.  I hide under the duvet and hope everything just goes quiet…. even 30 minutes…. 30 for fuck sake!!!?Q!

Yeh, a great way to sleep off a bad cold.  I would rather be given some sort of “pain-killer” to help me doze off but as my Doctor has decided to become bloody conservative lately (maybe I pushed it asking for Morphine), I now have to buy Panadol Extra like every one else and live with the noise/toys every where/moaning husband/miserable Helpers/hairy legs that haven’t been shaved due to a runny nose.  What a shame… it sucks arse.

Drug dealers are also selling aspirin/baby laxatives for coke. I’m totally destroyed as there is nothing to alleviate my pain. Being ill in a house with three small children (under the age of 2.5), a husband who resembles a cavalier teenager and two unintelligible domestic Helpers who need constant management/English language courses, getting ill is not an option.

The minute I step out of my bedroom, the chaos stops in a millisecond.  Why? because I decided a loooong time ago, to rule MY household by fear.  YES, fear.  I’ve read my latest parenting book on my beloved Kindle and it was the only one that worked for me. The title …. “Is Beating the kids wrong/really that illegal?”

Basically it said… “DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM THOSE LIL’ CUTE MO’FOS!”  My kids get one warning and then that’s it. “Time out”, toys taken away for the day, and basically nothing they want to do for a certain amount of time, equivalent to their age.

I don’t scream… All I say is “What a shame? What a bummer!” (American Book obviously, because us British would be saying “What the FUCK is wrong with you kid? Get to your fucking room now and piss off while I drink my can of Stella and decide what your punishment is”)). But they get it. They HATE hearing those words “What a shame” (the Captain & and I actually say it to each other now which is a bit sad but fuck it) and plus it keeps me cool (ish).

Yes they react with statements like “Nooo Mummy…no “What a shame!!” but it’s too late. One strike and your out.  There I am, clucking around like Queen Bee on friggin Prisoner Cell Block H (if you don;t remember that Aussie prison show…you’re too young to be reading this) showing them how crap life can be… .  It’s either that, or me going fucking mad and screaming at them to go to their rooms for “time out”…. long enough for me to open a bottle of cheap white wine (used later in the evening for a domestic fight with the Captain).

Bringing up kids is hard work people.  I am basically talking and explaining things, non-stop, allll fucking day long.  Do you know how mentally exhausting that is??? Talking all day to someone who doesn’t even pay you a bonus for your good work?!  I HATE talking.  I hate the phone for fucks sake and now I have to talk allll day long?!!  To people who barely reach my hips and don’t give a shit what I’m saying. Yes, I love them to bits. BUT, they’re driving me mad. Gone are the days of lunch-hours and frivolous bar crawls.

Everything now is about teaching my kids. ie. “Dont lick the floor!! 

Why Mummy?”  “Because you’ll injest crap from outside which will make you ill and will inevitably involve me having to drive you to the hospital.. which doesn’t work as ive had an afternoon drink… actually a bottle of wine” . Selfish friggin kids.

“Dont bite you sister?”  “

Why? Because I said so…. you irritating fucking monkey (yes, Mummy loves you)”.

“Dont tear your books?  Why? because they cost money you annoying little person who I gave life to!”

‘Dont shit on the floor.” “Why? because I’ll rip your head off if you do!! Plus,your nanny will have to clean it up while giving me that knowing, irritating look that says…”You’re his mother…you clean it up“. Yeh…right. Next I’ll be making dinner.

In Hong Kong…Not only am I now feeling and looking like complete shit, but my weight loss regime which was pretty much sorted (drinking booze, zero food and working out, the Rachel Zoe way) has gone down the shitter.

Why?  Well, after being on holiday with The Captain and kids in Bali a few weeks ago…. my body (and mind) decided “Fuck it!! Enjoy yourself! Where’s my drinks bitches!!??” So … we ate loads, drank every chance we got (yes even at breakfast to fade out any noise, I screamed across a busy restaurant for a Vodka with my OJ) and those last 5 (ok 10) baby pounds crept back with a vengeance.

Not only do I have to re-start my whole workout and diet thing, but I also have to find the actual will to do it.  I can’t be arsed.  The only reason I’m still thinking about it is because my old clothes feel too tight and my maternity clothes are absolutely massive. Plus now I feel unwell, all i want to do is lay in bed, eat chocolate (I was never into chocolate!!??) and dream of cosmopolitans. I LOVE COSMOPOLITANS. Yes, more than wine or Vodka.

More than my kids?  Somedays… So, I have discovered that to be a good writer…. you need to be honest.  How does one be honest?  DRINK!! I can’t see any way around it.  Yes, it’s very Welsh of me but really…. to write, and be honest about what I find amusing, I have to be slightly inebriated. It’s the truth.  The Captain will be horrified and not happy about this “discovery”.  BUT, one must do what one must for their craft.

On a separate note, I have been having fun/fights with Helper Numero 2 in my household.  The woman is driving me fucking mad.  Rude? Yep.  She has a look on her face sometimes that says “You drunk bitch, you should be ashamed”…sometimes… I dunno… Im too drunk sometimes. The point is… she’s really fucking annoying me. She lies about everything.  She smirks. She shouts at the kids (a big No No).  She irritates the shit out of me when I open a 1990 bottle of vintage vino from…. I dunno where.  She laughs and jokes when the Captain is home and then scowls when its me (that alone is asking for a slap)… the list is endless. SO…. I have decided to be a complete and utter BITCH in response.  It keeps our house in order and if you really knew me… you know this wouldn’t be my natural way. BUT… I live in HK so things change.  Who gives a shit! anyway?  I don’t know anyone well enough here to care how I react…. unless it’s the police.

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About Sharzad Hime-Michaels

A (40++) Punk “wannabe”. SW15 London born/bred, Kind (‘ish), Strict (normal) “parent“ of 3 children under 18 (twins included). Divorced. A great cook. Shockingly argumentative after 9pm on a Monday evening...

2 responses to “Being a Mum sucks arse”

  1. Bee says :

    What an interesting take on the whole helper situation! More often than not they will let their unintelligence and utter disregard for clear instructions shine through. How do you then rule with fear without them getting more aggressive? Would really appreciate some tips; our current help situation is reaching new highs of stress, I feel my veins exploding

    • fruitlessbloom says :

      Ha!! If you hire the right person, like any role… you will be fine. If it doesn’t work, kindly march them to the door and explain why they are being fired, BUT, be aware of the legal implications that may arise.

      Our first Hong Kong experience was a blessing in disguise. The Caption thought I was a lunatic, with all my “written warnings” but to be fair, our Helper, was not like most Helpers. Every profession has people who don’t want to “perform” in that role. Our first Helper, was rude, out every single night until at least 5am (yes, seriously), very mean to my son (one of our twins and something everyone witnessed) and yet, I waited 4 months before pulling the plug.

      If I had my time again, I’d wait 2 hours before marching that bitch, or anyone, who did that shit in my house. She had NO reason to be horrible, but, I was super relaxed and nice and basically opened the door to being trampled on. That was her nature…not everyone would be that way.

      The role a Domestic Helper has in your home is an important one. You trust them with your children, your home, your life. This is huge. When we let our first Helper go, and employed our next Helper (still with us 4 years later….and I was the one to hire her!), you see the difference. She can’t cook. She’s not a great cleaner, BUT, she’s my extra pair of hands in the home and LOVES the children. She’s also lovely to have around. There is no atmosphere, which I experienced the first time round…but, I didn’t know better. I thought I should expect that because I thought I was a privileged dick for having the money to hire someone. This time. No regrets. No hidden agendas. I love who is in our home.

      Like I said…she can’t cook (this was clear in our interview and by her two previous Chinese employers who were devastated to lose her because “she is amazing with the children”.

      Our HK Helper, who’s part of our family (but not…. no shared dinners, or anything to confuse me or wind me up later…), is amazing with my children. I cook, I clean, I do school runs and all the usual stuff…. our Helper, well, she “Helps” me. And she is lovely.

      No issues in the last 4 years. But, the first one was a devil who helped me realise, I didn’t need to be afraid to say something wasn’t right. You can’t pay people to love your children. Im so happy we had the bad experience to appreciate the good…our Helper now, is like an Auntie in the house. She doesn’t cook, cleaning and ironing is rubbish (its become a joke with the Captain) BUT… I can jump in the car in the morning to take the twins to school and not worry about our 3rd child because our Helper is loving her, singing to her and generally a bloody pleasure to have around.

      Our current Helper (who I hope lives with us until the kids leave home) is kind, smiles, and also knows to back off when I’m having a shit day….and vice versa (we are women after all). It works and we share stuff but also don’t cross a certain line.

      When you get the right person, you will know. BUT, they must ALWAYS be kind to the children. It won’t work otherwise. The job these amazing girls do, is hardcore, but when you find the right person, it works. Maybe ask her, but, we’ve had a lovely quiet, sometimes, jovial, a lot of time exhausted, with plenty of banter, friendship. Our Helper was my “Best Friend” in HK… we joked about it but she’s the only person I saw day in/out and still managed to get on with (I can’t even do that with my own Mother).

      Find the right person and use your instinct. We are so blessed to have a good, kind person in our home and I would do anything for her… if she ever asked.

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