Where is the goddess in domestic?

Despite more mud-slides, death-defying roads and Caribbean efficiency that makes South Africa look like Switzerland, the biggest shock to the system has undoubtedly been on the domestic front.

Being practically a single parent these days, I just cannot believe how unbelievably tedious domestic work actually is. I realize now why you have to have mugs which say 'Yummy Mummy', because if you don’t remind yourself  how fab you are doing a crap job, nobody else will sure as hell give it a nano-seconds thought.

As Tyler was not working during October and I was, we were still in SA-mode (ie Tyler did Domestic and I did Bread Winning). Since Halloween Weekend, the new Family Dawson has kicked in (ie Tyler works 16 hour days and I’m now a housewife). This is one of the reasons we moved here, remember?

As we sank deeper into domestic chaos, I realized with some trepidation, that the house was now my job. Having not swung a broom since living in London 13 years ago, this was a bit worrying.

I’ve always rather fancied the idea of dabbling in housework, inspired by reading too many Home & Gardens with Cath Kitson rose-sprigged peg baskets and Martha Stewart’s uber domestic gorgeousness. So after the initial disbelief and denial had worn off, I picked myself up, put together my little bucket of cleaning goodies, made lots of lists and proceeded to try and get some level of order back into the house and our lives, feeling very Marie Antionettish about it all.

Well. What a *#$ng crock that all is. Domestic work is relentless, boring, dirty and most depressingly – completely thankless. I kept feeling like a heroine everytime I remembered to switch on the dishwasher or make a bed – expecting at least some applause and acknowledgment. Then I started getting a bit Type A about it all and wanted it all sparkling and started jumping up at 10pm to wipe down the paintwork. I even started to feel a little sanctimonious, in fact.

Until that is, I forgot to wash the children’s school clothes over the weekend – and they had to go off on Monday morning – with filthy khaki shorts, even filthier white T shirts (PE) and disgusting white socks. Oh, the shame.

Now I’m beginning to see how some of all this time we seem to have here gets used up. Housework.

However, help is on the way. Marielle the lovely lady from the Phillipines will be starting this week to help out a bit. No heckling from the peanut gallery, thank you.