Tag Archives: Busy House

Why 2017 Will Go Down As The Year I (Finally) Grew Up

I think I might be addicted to throwing stuff out.

It started out innocently enough. A mortifying realisation that most of my wardrobe had either A) holes in them B) paint splodges on them C) lost their mojo because I had owned them since the dawn or D) previously belonged to Alan forced me into a fit of chucking it all out two weeks ago.

I have since bought a few nice new staple items for myself and pinky-swore that I would spend some money on a new item of clothing every other month in 2017. More of that to come..

The decision to be a bit kinder to myself in the appearance department gave rise to a bit of internal empowerment. I mean, if I could find it within myself to chuck on some mascara and lipgloss when heading out on the school run, what other miraculous feats could I achieve?

Well, how about sorting out my paperwork from the last three years, says I? When we moved into our new house in 2014 I promised myself that I would stop using our work address for our personal post such as bank statements, car tax renewal notices and Prize Bonds for the kids (what if we won and I never knew?!).

Did I get to any of that over the last 3 years? Did I fuck.

I did what most busy mums do and piled them together in a corner labelled ‘Will get to when..’

When the baby is a bit bigger..

When we finish this extension..

When Eva starts pre-school..

After the wedding..

All of those ‘Afters’ have since come and gone and I’ve run out of excuses. I also need to get a grip and grow the hell up. What other 39 year old still uses her mother’s name on her PayPal account? (an unfortunate hangover from pre-visa laser card days and I needed a credit card to open an account. I haven’t been trusted with a credit card of my own since 2007. Long, and very funny story).

And so now, here I am, trying to behave like a grown up with a mortgage and some semblance of control over bills, routines and most of all, clutter.

This kind of thing could send a woman over the edge

In the last week I have;

  1. Boxed up 5 archive boxes full of old files that can be incinerated in the back garden (keep your records for 7 years if you can and after that, it’s bye-bye)
  2. Finally informed Electric Ireland that my name on the bill should not, in fact, be MR. Sharyn Hayden, thank you very much. I am all morto’d out.
  3. Rang Eircom and asked for a better deal for our TV and broadband (and got it down by €17 a month for the next two years, score!)
  4. Spoke to Bord Gais Energy about switching our electricity bills over to them as they have a better deal – AND a nice rewards program for tickets to the Bord Gais Energy Theatre and the likes, who isn’t into that?!
  5. Finally read up on WTF Tesco club points actually mean and might eventually start using the vouchers for good rather than for the green bin.
  6. GOT MARRIED. Yes, again, but this time we did the legal bit in the Dublin Registry Office. Not only was it super craic, I have also now applied for our marriage certificate AND informed our tax consultant BECAUSE I AM SUPER ORGANISED NOW.
  7. Washed my makeup brushes. I know, PEAK adulting.
  8. Nominated two ‘F*ck The Housework’ days per week. There is to be an embargo on the lifting of fingers on Thursdays and Fridays because.. ENOUGH ALREADY!! (and also, it makes us get on top of an actual system of doing it on the other days, boom)

Feel free to join my ‘F*ck The Housework!’ days  and send me some pics of what you’re doing INSTEAD of worrying about what’s going on inside your house. Just use the hashtag #fuckthehousework

**Next week.. I start to declutter my digital life – HONESTLY!**



Proceed With Caution

Pic for Proceed 4Welcome to my house where the hugs are always warm but the milk is never cold. Where children appear from around every corner and behind every door. Yes it smells like toast and fresh laundry. If you clear the clothes off that chair you can sit down. The dog will lick you the whole time.

Pic for Proceed 3

No the children won’t leave you alone. Yes they will keep staring at you like you are an alien. You will be shown every new thing that they have received in the past month and you will nod enthusiastically and say ‘Wow!’ at appropriate moments. You may get hit by a football. You will be used as a climbing frame. And yes they will most likely go through your coat pockets for change.

Be careful that wonky press door doesn’t land on you, mind you don’t fall over the crawling baby and watch that floor, the boards are loose. Don’t leave anything down, it will most likely be eaten. Yes that wet patch is pee.

Pic for Proceed 2You will be made tea. You will probably have about a minute to drink it before someone spills it on you. Yes all my cups have cracks. You are special enough to get a real cup and not a plastic one.

You will not go to the bathroom alone. There’s no lock on the door anyway so there’s nowhere to hide.

We will chat over the noise of the constant background chaos. I will shriek at a moment’s notice – calling random children’s names. There might be biscuits but you will be lucky to get to eat a whole one. I can still talk while untangling wrestling children and doing quantum physics homework.

Pic for ProceedYou will get lots of kisses goodbye and baby dribbles. You will not go home clean. Your hearing will return shortly. The shock will wear off after a while. You can take that child with you if you like. We will all stand and wave at you as you leave, like a travelling circus.


You will relax that evening in the glorious echo of silence and calm that is your home and thank god for life’s little pleasures. I will fall exhausted into bed beside warm baby curls and the smell of bubble bath and thank god for mine 🙂


***Visit Julie’s blog at: Http://www.dancingwithdirtyfeet.blogspot.com