8 quite crap things I secretly enjoy now I am a mother

Champing at the (drill) bit. Pic: SpectrumFamily

Today, I actually looked forward to going to the dentist.

But what, you ask, was the allure of my impending root canal treatment? As a frazzled mother-of three, the thought of that relaxing chair, a gentle local anaesthesia and the bright heavenly light blasting into my face was irresistible.

A nice lie-down and some one-on-one time with a caring professional is just what I need after  nurturing the youth. The hypno-birthing exercises will got me through the needle-in-jaw bit.

I used to hate the dentist, so this got me thinking about some other quite dreary things I secretly enjoy now I am a mother.

1.   Visiting the accountant to talk about my tax return: he’s the only person making me cups of tea these days. His £150 fee for making the tea is of course tax deductible.

2.       Browsing luxury slipper websites: A fresh pair of £60 felt clogs with a reassuring German name  turns a miserable winter into a 30 per cent less miserable winter. But perhaps not a sexy one.

3.    Painting walls white, then staring at them while they dry. Is that a squirrel I see in the whiteness? Or is it a goose? (puts on sunglasses, lies down)

4.      Talk radio: In the loneliness of the kitchen, the sound of even Nigel Farage’s angry self-satisfied phone-in show is a comfort. It almost feels like having friends – right-wing, Brexity friends.

5.      Long car journeys: this is the only time my kids can be contained in the same space for any length of time. They occasionally vomit on themselves but they are strapped in and I don’t have to chase them. Much.

6.   Information books. Give me those cold, dry facts. I can no longer be bothered with, or care about fictional characters’ emotional lives. Think the Lego book Absolutely Everything You Need to Know rather than Truffaut's bedhopping cinematic masterpiece Jules et Jim. (I appreciate non-fiction is not actually crap, so should not strictly allowed on this list)

7.      Repetitive beats: Only hard house or Eurotrance can actually relax me now after 9 years of the whimsical "Hello puppy calling" song on the V-Tech walker.