At last I am a grown-up.

It doesn’t matter that I am a married woman, with three children, gestating a fourth, running my own home etc. It took until yesterday for me to finally be a grown-up.

You see yesterday I made the most grown-up purchase of my life. Yesterday I bought a washing machine.

Oh my God how I agonised over the decision. There was so much to consider like the spin speed,the energy rating, the load capacity. I was a total novice to all of this. My house came with a washing machine (that has admittedly been dying on it’s arse for the past two years), and before that I erm… well my Mammy did my washing. It’s such a big purchase it’s given me the cold sweats. I don’t know how ANYONE makes decisions like buying a car or a house because the sense of crushing responsibility I feel over picking a washing machine is unreal.

That may also be because the things I buy have a tendency to break and the husband likes to mock me about my uncanny ability to pick up shoddy goods (this also applies when I accidentally buy bruised fruit or food with a limited shelf-life).

I have to wait a full week for my shiny new appliance to arrive and I am overjoyed at the prospect. I’m not sure if I shall just straight dump the old machine or have a ritual burning of it or maybe just take out two years of washing frustration on it with a sledge hammer.

This all fits nicely though with my other new purchase.

I became the proud owner this week of a set of Cheeky Wipes. For the uninitiated they are resuable baby wipes. My sister bought a set of them when my niece was born and she thought they were fab. LikeĀ marijuana they can be considered a “gateway” product, because now they’ve seriously got me thinking about going the reusable nappy route.

I’m the youngest child in my family so I was the last one to be cloth bummed in my family. The husband on the other hand is the middle child, he has two younger sisters and enough of an age gap to have helped out at diaper changing time. He has vivid (and according to him, traumatising) memories of having to empty the contents of nappies down the toilet, of the nappy bucket filled to the brim with nappy-san and festering terry cloths, of stirring up the bucket to help the soaking process, of carrying the bucket to his mum. He’s not buying it when I tell him that cloth nappies are different now and they don’t require the same sort of sheer manual and stinky labour that they once did. So since appealing to that sense isn’t going to work I’m trying to appeal to his wallet instead by telling him we can take the money we’ll save on disposables and buy a nice HDTV for the bedroom, and maybe Sky Multi-room.

Anyway since he’s the one at work he’ll hardly be expected to do anything much around the laundering of the nappies anyway, as currently I don’t think he’s even sure what the washing machine IS never mind where it is or how to use it.

You know… deciding to have a fourth child was an easier decision than picking a washing machine.


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