My sparkle is well and truly dulled .....

When I left work for the Christmas holiday on a cold dark December day I was determined to return in 2019 reborn as a domestic goddess with perfect work-life balance, all chores caught up at home, a tidy desk at work and prepared for my January meetings. No-one would dull my sparkle. I would be a shining, bright and sparkling example to all.

I shared this idea of a “new me” with my husband as we settled in to the Christmas festivities.  My husband is a perceptive man, a patient and kind man - albeit a very untidy man. Why was he chuckling? I let it go because I knew I could make it happen. I would show him. I would use this Christmas holiday to restore order to my home and to my work. I would even find time for crafts, for baking, for exercise. I would let no-one dull my sparkle. I would succeed. I would be a domestic goddess.

Since the 21st December I have returned the milk to the fridge 719 times. I have cleaned the sink of toothpaste twice a day every day for two long weeks. I have polished the kitchen benches 89 times – who on earth decided black marble was a useful addition to a family kitchen? I’d very much like to meet that person. 

I have cleared upwards of twenty pairs of shoes from the hallway every single day for two weeks. I have washed 472 pots and hoovered 654 times – or so it feels. Oh and shouted. I must not forget the shouting and the tantrums. I have shouted a great deal. I have shouted almost as many times as I have hoovered because having hoovered, returned the milk to the fridge and cleaned the sink I honestly didn’t expect to turnaround and immediately have to do it again. It almost made me cry. What’s that about? Crying over milk? Who knew housework was such an emotive issue. 

Perhaps I should have known this was going to happen. My husband certainly knew it was going to happen. Occasionally, usually after an episode of work angst, I would muse to my husband “how lovely it would be to give up work and just kick around”. My husband, who you will remember is a perceptive, patient, kind (but untidy) man would stop in his tracks. He would take a sharp intake of breath and gently say “Alison sweetheart, the only person who doesn’t know that is a terrible idea is you, everyone else is terrified at the thought of you not working and on behalf of them all can I say you should never give up work” and we would laugh together. If I’m honest I was never really sure exactly what he meant and why we were laughing. I know now.

Despite some minor victories – I made an extraordinarily good pie, I have started (but not finished) a book and I have started (but not finished) knitting a cardigan – you may doubt me but I promise you I have done all these things, and yet despite these victories my domestic goddess sparkle is well and truly extinguished. This image is a representation of me January 2019. Lying in bed. Defeated by domesticity. Work life balance but a pipe dream.

There is no work life balance to be had. I cannot do it all. It is beyond me. In trying to do so I have gained a pain in my chest and I now have a meditation app playing on repeat in a vain attempt to restore some order and calm to my growing hysteria. The stress of being a domestic goddess for two weeks is unimaginable. I will not be doing it again. Never ever. Nope. Not me. I am finished with domesticity.

So it is to work I am returning today, happy and safe in the knowledge my colleagues know how to return the milk to the fridge, will take care of the kitchen and won’t leave their shoes by the front door. My family and friends can rest easy knowing I have learned a hard but valuable lesson. I won’t be giving up work anytime soon. In fact, based on recent events, I may work until I drop. The alternative is too terrifying to imagine for me and everyone around me. 

I hope you, like me, learn your lessons surrounded by friends and family who know your strengths and weaknesses but love you all the same. Happy New Year and all the best for 2019!