That’ll be why I don’t do housework, then.

One of the things they never tell you when you become a parent is that, for the foreseeable future, you will never have clean floors. There will always, always be something on the floor – toy soldiers, small cars, general small-person detritus.

Yesterday evening it had become too annoying to continually be stepping on something so I decided to clear the floors. I tidied away Flea’s toys and pulled out the vacuum cleaner. It’s a fairly regular sort of Dyson cleaner, with a long, rigid extendible hose. We have wooden floors and often I take the end of the hose to provide stronger, more concentrated suction to pick up stuff along the edges of the floor.

I know, I am a fully-fledged housewife genius and domestic role model.

I was merrily cleaning when I saw one of Flea’s drawings under the dining table. Because I’m basically idle, I decided the best thing to do was to pick up the paper with the vacuum hose and then pick it off the end – thereby saving me the hassle of crawling under the table.

At this point I am congratulating myself on my efficiency and general domestic Goddess credentials.

Except, it turns out that when you put something large over the end of a vacuum it creates an air-tight seal.

Then what happens is the extendible hose retracts – at speed. And depending on how you’re holding the vacuum cleaner at the time, it sort of rebounds into your chest a bit like a high-velocity rifle, causing extensive bruising and also causing you to fall backwards, trip over a Tripp Trapp (how’s that for irony?) and cut open your head on the corner of the play table.

And then you’ll need to go to the local clinic to have your scalp stuck back together and also ask your GP for painkillers because one of your breasts has basically turned purple. People may snigger at you during this time. Openly.

Yep. I am definitely, officially Class A role model material.


Sally is a full-time blogger and founder of the Tots100, Trips100, Foodies100 and HIBS100 communities, along with the MAD Blog Awards. She spends a bit too much time on the Internet. She’s also a very happy Mum to Flea, the world’s coolest ten year old.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


  1. 25th November 2010 / 11:15 am

    Ouch! Is it at least a nice shade of purple?

  2. mathew
    25th November 2010 / 11:20 am

    How in god’s good name is this possible?

  3. 25th November 2010 / 11:25 am

    It’s a special talent I have. Find the disaster in any situation.

  4. Emma
    25th November 2010 / 11:35 am

    This is why you need these cleaning ladies back!

  5. Pixie
    25th November 2010 / 11:38 am

    Oh. That’s comedy gold, in a Frank Spencer type way. Hopefully recovery is speedy.

  6. 25th November 2010 / 11:42 am

    OMG, I know I shouldn’t laugh but that just created the funniest mental picture! Hope you’re ok and the bruising goes down soon, x

  7. 25th November 2010 / 1:46 pm

    Bloody Hell, I guess yesterday went from bad to worse! Funny though, although you are just confirming MadDad’s opinions!

  8. Diane
    25th November 2010 / 1:47 pm

    Oh no! But this just shows how evil housework is. You probably should leave it to the professionals.

  9. 25th November 2010 / 1:58 pm

    Ah. I use the ‘can’t be bothered to bend / crawl under table’ vacuum hose technique all the time. But my dyson is an upright one so it doesn’t create quite the same impact.
    Hope your bruises fade soon…

  10. 25th November 2010 / 1:59 pm

    LOL – sorry to laugh when you’re in pain. A great post though!
    Hope you’re soon better and not so purple!!

  11. 25th November 2010 / 2:10 pm

    I’m sure I’ll laugh about it one day…

  12. 25th November 2010 / 2:11 pm

    No, although now I think about it, I think it does sort of ‘click’ into place if you extend it fully – maybe I didn’t do that bit?

  13. 25th November 2010 / 2:11 pm

    It’s a lie, I tell you. I taught Nigella everything she knows.

  14. 25th November 2010 / 2:11 pm

    This is a good rule. And one I intend to follow in 2011.

  15. 25th November 2010 / 2:27 pm

    I can’t tell you I didn’t laugh when I read this, primarily because it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who injures themselves in unusual ways. It’s surprisingly hard to bruise your boob though. Hope you are btter soon.

  16. 25th November 2010 / 3:35 pm

    Delegation, delegation, delegation. Need I say more?!

  17. 25th November 2010 / 4:48 pm

    Oh, that is hilarious. Sorry – not for you, obviously. But it truly does vindicate my policy (it is, of course, a policy, not just general laziness) of never hoovering.

  18. 25th November 2010 / 7:46 pm

    You mummy bloggers do seem to have a worrying number of domestically related injuries. I think you need to write it into the job description!

  19. Livi
    25th November 2010 / 8:51 pm

    Ouch! But I will admit to laughing out loud!

  20. 25th November 2010 / 10:44 pm

    Child related injuries. Gotta love ’em.

  21. mama-andmore
    25th November 2010 / 11:41 pm

    great post, utterly hilarious! I say help keep the unemployment rates down and get a professional! My duaghter managed to gouge out some of my eyeball when she was tiny and resisting my attempts at a manicure… cue several hours in the eye hospital on Marylebone Road. Kids, they should come with a health warning!

  22. 25th November 2010 / 11:48 pm

    Maybe all the screen time affects our eyesight or distance perception or something?

  23. 25th November 2010 / 11:48 pm

    Oh my! That sounds really, really painful.

  24. 26th November 2010 / 9:26 am

    Just found your blog-very well written, really enjoyed reading. Poor you, perhaps it’s time to enlist a cleaner?

  25. 26th November 2010 / 4:56 pm

    Just a thought – you have a very talented daughter. Can’t she do the hoovering from now on? As a life lesson, obviously.

  26. 27th November 2010 / 10:28 pm

    Thanks, and welcome! I wish for a cleaner. One day, when I marry well…