Shit Mum

Updated: Apr 20, 2020

I think that lock down has triggered some sort of personality disorder. I genuinely have no idea who I’m going to be when I wake up each day. Unfortunately for my family the person I’ve woken up as today has turned out to be a right cunt.

I’m blaming it on lack of personal space. The kids are everywhere. They won’t leave me alone and I can’t leave. Earlier I actually resorted to mopping the kitchen in the hope that a sopping wet floor might keep them the fuck out for five minutes. The eldest didn’t even notice. He came back from a run and headed straight for the fridge leaving a trail of sweaty footprints in the damp. When I hysterically yelled at him to go away he called me a ‘Breathing Mess’ and emptied the fridge anyway.

‘Breathing Mess’ is one of the kinder insults. The middle one has just called me a ‘Shit Mum’ because I pointed out that the stupid school-homework-app is saying he still has 15 hours of incomprehensible science due in by tomorrow. My amazingly adult response was to call him a ‘Shit Child’, thus proving him entirely right. Unsurprisingly he has stormed off to his bedroom where, according to his younger brother, he is now happily watching Netflix. I’m just trying to be grateful he's not asked for any help with the science.

As you can see, it’s all going well. I really don’t mean to keep yelling at everyone but the thought of ‘Home School’ starting again tomorrow has filled me with total fucking dread. As a result I’m acting like a pterodactyl with PMT. My husband doesn’t understand what I’m so upset about. But how could he? He’s looking forward to locking himself in a room all day to interact with people he isn’t related to on Zoom. Given that he’s currently paying the mortgage I can’t even complain. I am however, really fucking jealous. There is precisely nothing I wouldn’t do on Zoom right now if it would pay the mortgage and keep me away from the kids. And I mean NOTHING. Unfortunately, given the pubic hair and carbohydrate situation my options are severely limited.

Coronavirus seems to be slowly killing off everything I love. My non-existent porn career. People. Businesses. My tenuous grasp on my own sanity. Each week I’m left with a little bit less. This week it’s even managed to kill my Cillian Murphy crush. (The man isn’t dead. I just can’t look at him in the same way again). Before Covid-19 an Irish man with a Brummie accent and a flat cap was enough to make my nipples hard. Now I feel as if I’m stuck on the actual Peaky Blinders set. All the males in the house look like cast members. Their failed attempts to ‘fade’ the sides of their hair with beard trimmers have left them with terrifyingly austere haircuts. They also swear all the time and may genuinely kill each other at the slightest provocation.

I’m hoping that tomorrow I might wake up as someone nicer. My whole family are hoping this too. But given that someone still has to explain sodding fractions to the 9 year old I sincerely fucking doubt it.

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