Have you ever let your kitchen floor get so dirty that you should probably call the health department on yourself??
No?? Me either.
I grew up with a proper English mum who believed cleaning was life and it should be done every waking moment and sometimes while you sleep.
It is honestly what I remember doing most of my childhood.
“Wendy, you’re grades are shit again! Why don’t you go clean your bedroom! And the bathroom!”
Ok. Totally valid and reasonable response to everything.
My mom grew up in a small town in England called Leicester with no heat – so she definitely took ours for granted.
It would be the dead of winter in the middle of the night as I’m sleeping soundly and warm and in walks my mom to open my bedroom window to the freezing ass cold.
“Mom, why are you opening the window?” I asked.
She was also a proper English mum who believed in an ass whooping at the drop of a hat…
“Well it’s bloody hot in here, isn’t it? Like hells inferno!!”
Fearing that ass whooping, I had to agree.
Teeth chattering, “Y-y-y-yes mom. H-h-h-hotter than hell.”
“Did you just say hell?”
Seriously though I was #3 of 4 girls. Being the middle child is no joke either.
We are the forgotten!
Every year: “Oh no, Wendy! We forgot your birthday again!”
“It’s fine mom, you’ve just been so busy planning my baby sisters party 6 months from now that how couldn’t you forget?”
“Next year Wendy! We won’t forget next year. Now why don’t you go clean your room!”
Valid and reasonable.
Speaking of which, I should probably go clean that kitchen floor. Lmao
I love you mom!!