Blog 54 k...Home Help...

Blog 54 k...Home help...

This morning I was out at the same time as the 'Hubby' and 'Cutie-pie' for an appointment and so I didn’t open the curtains quite as early as I should have. When I did, I was greeted with the Wednesday morning insight into our neighbours’ different lives. They are all so busy that for some of them the need for help in and around the home means that they have to have someone to do it whilst they are at work. So, looking out at the Cleaning Lady’s van and the gardener mowing the lawns and the window cleaner swilling his water down the drain and the dustbin cleaning van sterilising the re-cycling bins; I couldn’t help but think about when ‘Hubby’ and I were newly weds and I used to moan and say that I could have done with some extra help around the house to ease the burden of working and cooking and cleaning and shopping.    

Sometimes we should be careful what we wish for...

The mother-in-law was newly retired. She was bored at home. ‘Hubby’ asked her if she could pop round one afternoon and be in when the washing machine man came to repair the machine [again!] So happy was she to do this that she came early and set about the mound of ironing I had hidden in the airing cupboard [or hot press as it’s also known…or even the ‘keep’ according to the ‘Intelligent one’…he called it this because when I asked him as a youngster to get a towel he said where from and I replied sarcastically ‘from where we keep them...in the cupboard on the landing’ so having clued in on the word 'keep' it remains firmly in his brain as the Keep!]

Anyhow I digress, on returning from work later that day, early evening actually as was the case in those days due to Netball practice and then waiting for a lift home, I was faced with a mountain of freshly ironed clothes and bedding that I had been meaning to do but just never found the time…actually I used to save most of it for the holidays! ‘Hubby’ was delighted with his little self as his mother had also hoovered, swept, mopped the floor and polished all the brass ornaments…I used to have a lot in those days, it was the fashion but the novelty soon wore off once they kept turning dark brown as opposed to shiny! ‘Wasn’t it great to come home on a Friday night and have all your jobs done?’ he beamed…note the words ‘your jobs’…housekeeping has never been his strong point and of course this is what I had always said I would love...a home help just like other members of staff who had a cleaner, a lady dropping off the weekly ironing and a gardener keeping everything trim and weed-free leaving them with free time to enjoy their weekends.

Well, yes I was pleased, I could get drunk that night, sleep in on the Saturday morning and only start marking my school books and planning the lessons in the afternoon instead of trying to cram everything in. So that weekend I have to admit that I did feel less pressured. However, the following Friday morning, just as I was out of the shower, the mother-in-law arrived. ‘Hubby’ had decided it would be great if it was a weekly occurrence so as to help her get over her boredom and to stop me from moaning; and as she would be out of her house most of the day the dog had to come along too. OMG! I wasn’t exactly a slut in the household department but neither was I the most organised of creatures. My house had been a palace when I lived alone but since getting married and having ‘Hubby’ around somehow there were better things to do than fold clothes, tie back curtains, polish the brass and put the trash out. As for washing the supper pots…well there’s always tomorrow…same feeling about scrubbing the shower or dusting the window ledges…so on her return she must have been shocked to see that a whole week of living…and loving…had been going on in place of housework. Hair dripping, crumpled blouse disguised under a cardigan and laddered stockings, well yes I was a bit slutty in that department…I headed off to school with the worry of something I hadn't done. Deep in the back of my mind this something niggled away at me and just as I led my class into the Assembly Hall for Friday morning prayers I gasped as the realisation hit me… My diary... of course. And what had I written? Yes, you’ve guessed it…the ‘mother-in-law from hell’…blah blah…so fingers crossed she didn’t find it stuffed under the bed with a few odd socks and sweetie papers.

Of course she had found it, whether she had been tempted to read it was another story…it was placed NEATLY on my freshly made bed due to her having hoovered under the bed! That night she smiled as she explained how she had re-organised what little linen and towels I had so that they would not become damp in the cupboard, also explaining that she had hung all ‘Hubby’s’ shirts and trousers at one side of the wardrobe and mine on the other to avoid confusion in the rush to get ready for work…as if that would happen, imagine ‘Hubby’ donning a flowery dress and matching cardigan…mind you if the laundry was left to him he would be in danger of running out…same with the underwear…OMG my mother-in-law had seen all my knickers and suspender belts and naughty nighties…and she had ironed ‘Hubby’s’ poor neglected cotton briefs too! Nothing was sacred anymore!

This weekly onslaught of my home became more of an invasion, not deliberately I’m sure, but gradually it became like a hotel, nothing out of place, cupboards and drawers were neat, Thursday nights were now spent quickly swilling the bath, bleaching the loo, folding clothes and checking under the bed and sofa for any incriminating evidence…I even wiped inside the kitchen cupboards and finally got to the stage where Wednesday night had also become a pre-mother-in-law cleaning night too. During the day at break times when everyone was talking and drooling over the latest George Clooney episode of E.R. I was recovering from the late night of tidying up whilst ‘Hubby’ snored warm and snug in a freshly made bed.

This was no fun. This was not relaxing. ‘Hubby’ thought it all highly amusing until one Friday in particular…

We had a friend who was getting married and as was the tradition between us girlies we bought rude things for the hen party…you can guess the type of naughty undies and creams etc. We had a party whereby the lady selling these goodies would come to the house…this stuff is now so famous that it is a huge shopping experience with countless outlets across the land! Anyway, I had purchased some naughty flavoured condoms, a couple of bottles of creams, crotchless knickers and a blow up sheep…I know WHAT was I thinking!! But it would all be fun on the night to get the 'bride to be' to open these things and suggest ways they could be used on her honeymoon!

In a moment of madness ‘Hubby’ and I blew the sheep up to see what all the fuss was about…and we couldn’t get it to de-flate so we ended up putting it on the top shelf of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom: he looked the picture of fun in the crotchless knickers too! [The sheep that is…] The creams and things were not in boxes and so I popped them on the windowsill in the spare bedroom ready for wrapping. Now if you can picture this…many years ago a good friend of mine had bought me a real leather whip as a joke when I was teaching in an extremely challenging place and the joke was that I would soon “Whip” them all into shape. This whip was also in the spare bedroom on the shelf of the wardrobe next to the blown up sheep in the knickers…all safe and forgotten in preparation for the Hen–party…

Until that particular Friday…when I returned from work to be met by a stoney- faced mother-in-law and a very nervous looking ‘Hubby’…both left in silence as I thanked her for coming and waved them off. After he returned from taking her home he was not amused: he informed me that she had decided to tidy the spare room and after hoovering she progressed to dusting and looking in the wardrobe to see if there was anything in there that needed tidying also. She had come face to face with a blown up sheep which for some reason had actually fallen out of the wardrobe as she slid the door open and had become a source of great fun for her little dog;who lived up to his name and actually nipped a hole in it; he had managed to deflate it unlike us, plus he had run around the house with her in hot pursuit trying to retrieve the knickers [for which she apologised as he had ripped the crotch out of them…!] she had also noticed a whip with tassles no less and was most surprised if not a little disgusted by the names of the creams on the window sill…

Poor 'Hubby' had had an earful in the car from his mother whilst driving with her precious little doggy on the back seat…"if we didn’t want her to come over on a Friday we only needed to say; we did not need to blatantly display our preferences for the bedroom department…
...perhaps we could manage without her help on such a regular basis…" 

…if only I had known it was that easy I would have left the whip and stockings on the bed from the beginning…

Blog 54 l...coming soon...next Wednesday...
Copyright ©GML2012