The Domestic Shitstorm

Motherhood: the word conjures up serene images of cooing babies, Scandi-inspired nurseries and loving family dinners. At least, that’s the polished picture sold to us by nappy adverts and Instagram influencers. But for the most of us, the reality is more of a post-apocalyptic survival scene. Welcome to the domestic shitstorm.

This isn’t a rant – okay – maybe it’s a bit of a rant – but it’s also a declaration of truth. Behind every ‘perfect’ Pinterest board and heart-warming photo montage lies a battlefield. Motherhood isn’t a curated experience. It’s sticky floors, forgotten appointments and tantrums (yours and theirs). It’s trading sanity for sleep and wondering when ‘hot’ became an adjective for your coffee instead of yourself.

We need to take the glossy filters off and shine a light on the unfiltered chaos that is domestic life. Not because we’re ungrateful, but because pretending it’s all sunshine and roses isn’t helping anyone. So let’s put the Instagram-worthy moments on pause for a second and dive into the real, raw and sometimes ridiculous side of domestic life. It’s maddening and sometimes even magical.

But first, let’s talk about the mess. Because if we’re going to survive the domestic shitstorm, we need to stop pretending it’s not happening.

Chapter 2: Housework is a Scam

The myth of ‘a clean house equals a good woman’ runs deep. For generations, women have been conditioned to equate their worth with the state of their homes. A tidy living room? You’re smashing life. A sink full of dirty dishes? Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect £200. But here’s the truth: the mathematical equation (house x tidy = perfect mum) is a scam. It’s a societal trap to keep us too busy scrubbing to notice the bigger picture.

Need proof that the burden is unfair? Studies show that women still shoulder 70% of household labour, even when working full-time jobs. Think about that: after a day of grinding at the office, we’re expected to come home and clock into a second shift. It’s unsustainable, and frankly, it’s bullshit.

And don’t even get me started on the toys. Toys that mysteriously migrate to every corner of your home, including your bed. You’re stepping over LEGO pieces while stirring pasta, dodging a toy car on your way to the loo. It’s as if the toys know you’re already at your limit and decide to mock you by multiplying. Cleaning up feels futile, like bailing water out of a sinking ship with a teaspoon.

The war against toys is unwinnable.

So, I’m here to tell you that the mess doesn’t matter. It’s time we stop tying our self-esteem to spotless countertops and gleaming floors. A lived-in home is a happy home. The memories made amidst the clutter are far more valuable than the satisfaction of an empty laundry basket. Learning to live with the mess – or in it – is a radical act of self-care.

Put it this way: if it’s clean enough that no one will contract anything nasty, call it good. Leave the deep cleaning for special occasions (like, you know, Christmas) and spend your precious energy on more rewarding activities, like actually playing with your children, or hiding in the loo with a snack.

So here’s your first challenge: leave something for 3 days. Seriously, don’t touch it. Watch what happens. Spoiler alert: the world won’t end. Sure, someone might comment on the smell, but chances are nobody will actually notice. And even if they do, they’ll survive.

Let’s start unlearning the myth of domestic perfection. Housework doesn’t define us and it certainly doesn’t determine our worth. A messy house is not a reflection of a messy life; it’s often the sign of a busy, full, and beautifully chaotic one. The mess can wait. We’ve got better things to do.