CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #3
I just wish it was easier to keep up. I wish I didn’t feel like life was a constant game of tug-of-war between two things in which there could only ever be one winner.
The house could be gleaming, but I would look like I’d been dragged through a bush backwards.
The kids could look smart and put together, but the house then looks like a tornado has hit it.
I could be caught up on school emails but then behind on planning meals for the week.
It was like I was always failing at something whilst watching all the other mums succeed at everything and look good while doing it.
Dan reappeared after rescuing Ruby and her missing unicorn. He leaned against the doorframe. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
He didn’t buy it. “You look… frazzled.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped forward, brushing a stray hair from my face. “Seriously. You’ve been running on fumes lately.”
I sighed. “I just feel like I can’t keep up.
The house, the kids, work and then Ruby gets sick.
No doubt she will pass it onto the others and they will be off school and guess who has to deal with it all?
Yep. Me. It’s like no matter how hard I try, nothing I ever do is enough.
There’s always more washing, more crumbs, more everything. ”
He nodded slowly. “I know. But you’re doing amazing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t patronise me.”
“I’m not. You keep this whole circus going.”
“But I don’t want to be told I’m doing amazing. I want a break. I don’t want to be super-mum. That title is way too overrated. I just want the list to be shorter or the demands be less. It's just too much.”
“I get it, it’s a lot. And I promise I’ll start helping more... with no ulterior motives.”
I smiled faintly. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”
The next night he actually did.
He bathed the kids while I folded laundry in peace.
He read The Gruffalo three times in a row because Ruby insisted, and didn’t even complain when she asked him to do the voices.
When I peeked in, he was crouched on the floor, growling like a deranged fox, and all three kids were howling with laughter.
Something about that sight, him, messy-haired and silly and trying, made my chest ache in the best way.
Maybe wooing wasn’t about flowers or lemon-scented microwaves.
Maybe it was this. Maybe it was taking some of the mental load and calling it his own.
Maybe we didn’t need big date nights or earth-shattering sex (although that’s always a nice bonus).
Maybe if the pressure I feel day in, day out was reduced, I’d be more inclined to show affection and intimacy to Dan which is something that means so much to him.
Later, after the house was finally quiet, I sank onto the sofa beside him, feet tucked up underneath me.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“For what?”
“For today. For helping. For not expecting anything after.”
He smiled. “Who says I’m not expecting anything?”
I groaned. “Dan.”
He chuckled. “Relax. I mean tea. I was expecting tea.”
“Oh.”
“Unless you were thinking...”
I smacked his arm. “You’re such a dick”
“And you love it.”
I did. God help me, I did.
Dan then pulled out his phone with a mischievous grin on his face, his lips curling up at the edges.
“What now?” I asked.
He smirked. “Operation Woo, phase two.”
“Oh God.”
“It’s not what you think. I made a playlist.”
“A playlist?”
“Romantic classics.”
“Define ‘romantic.’”
He hit play. Careless Whisper started blaring from his phone speaker.
I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”
He tried to do a slow dance. With socks on. On the laminate floor.
He slipped.
We both ended up on the sofa, crying with laughter.
It wasn’t sexy. But it was us.
He reached for my hand and pulled it up to his lips, planting a soft, sweet kiss on the back. No expectation, no hinting. Just a quiet gesture.
And in that tiny moment, I felt it again.
Not fireworks, not grand romance, just the simple, steady warmth of love trying its best to survive the chaos.
The next morning, the chaos resumed: Sophie forgot her homework, Ruby’s cereal “looked wrong,” and Oscar announced he’d volunteered me to bake cupcakes for the school fair which was 2 days away
“Of course you did,” I muttered, mentally adding find time to bake 30 cupcakes you’ll probably burn to my ever-growing list.
“We could bake together tonight if you want? I can grab the ingredients on the way home and we can all do it together”
I stared, “You? Bake?”
“How hard can it be?”
Famous last words.
That evening we embarked on The Great Cupcake Disaster of Thursday Night. There was flour on the ceiling. Sophie spilled half a bottle of vanilla essence, which she insisted “smelled like unicorn tears.”
But the kids were giggling. Dan was covered in icing sugar. And I was laughing so hard I nearly cried.
We had a playlist on while we baked and every now and then Dan and Sophie would burst into song, using their wooden spoons and microphones. Oscar would scowl in embarrassment but I know he secretly loved it.
Ruby was in her highchair with a mixing bowl and some Angel Delight because let’s face it, she’s going to be eating most of whatever it is she’s mixing and I’m not wasting any of the school fairs precious cake mix!
As I pulled the cupcakes out of the oven, I glanced around at my little family. Sweet little Ruby was covered in a mixture of snot and Angel Delight but was giggling as she watched Sophie and Oscar flick flour at each other.
Then there was Dan, hair dusted with flour, standing there with that same knowing look. Our eyes met, and in that moment, it hit me. This is what it’s all about. All of us together. No schedules, no worrying, just laughter and the simple joy of being us.
The cupcakes came out lopsided and burnt, but the proud look on Oscar's face made me realise something: we were messy, but we were ‘us’ messy.