The term sofa surfing fondly makes me think about my children as babies holding onto the sofa, giggling and shuffling from side to side as they learn to walk. Really...too cute. But now my children, who are growing up too fast, aged seven and five, no longer sofa surf. That term has now converted into something different. No longer are the kids fumbling along, dribbling whilst they desperately clutch onto the fabric of the sofa. It turns out, it’s our turn. The parents. I don’t mean dribbling on the sofa (well, only sometimes when I nod off and then wake myself with my own snoring). I mean, parents, with bottoms perched on the sofa. It seems that, as adults, we spend quite abit of time on the sofa and according to an article in the Daily Mail from 2016, a typical adult watches around 24 hours of television a week. Once we are sitting down in front of the TV, it often feels so terribly hard to drag ourselves back up again. Even though we know there are always jobs to be done, laundry, change the duvet, weekly shop, MOT the car, amongst many other jobs. And by the time we have digested all that information, we are just feeling too tired to summon the energy to make a start on it all.
I use the term sofa surfing as whilst we try to rest our weary bones, we surf. We scan the internet, we browse, we tap, double tap, click and review what’s happening in the world. My new guilty pleasure is browsing the entire store of Zara, adding a few items to my basket then completely forgetting to check out. Damn, every time.
We shouldn’t feel guilty about this sofa surfing. I spoke to many of my mum friends who agree that it is just our way of enjoying some downtime. I appreciate it can seem unsociable, sitting there scouring the internet but hey, we’ve probably spent most of the day talking to people. Or perhaps in the case of children, chasing or shouting at them to ‘come here’ or ‘stand still’. At the end of the day, many of us don’t have much energy left for small talk, we just want to be with our own thoughts.
I’ve read so many great articles about going out or the big build up to the infamous ‘mums night out’ but I worry things could be changing. Going out can seem like such an effort, I’m finding that more and more I am resorting to staying in. But it gets worse, not only am I staying in, I found a little spot on the sofa where I curl up and wrap a blanket around me. A blanket? What am I, ninety years old? Now the winter evenings are finally coming to a close, I fear I should throw aside that blanket neatly folded on the arm of the sofa, but I can’t. Not only does it look athletically beautiful, it’s even better when it’s wrapped around my shoulders. It would seem I am not alone. Many of us just can’t resist a little ‘layering’ for those cosy evenings on the couch with a Sky Atlantic series.
I don’t know when this started, but if it’s abit chilly, I’ve started saying to my husband ‘oooh, there’s a draft in the lounge?”. And all of a sudden, I find myself wrapped in a bundle of wool from John Lewis. And it’s lovely. Just...lovely.
As nice as it is to be invited out, anything short notice just feels too much effort. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll have to decline”. I might say one of the kids is sick, but sometimes (whoops) they are fine. I just want to stay in. Going out has become too much effort. I’ve officially turned into a hermit.
Here are 3 signs you could be turning into a Sofa Surfer: -
Your friends have stopped inviting you out as you keep saying you’re too busy. You have terrible FOMO, but then feel slightly smug when you wake the next morning without the worst hangover in the world.
2. You realise that you love your smartphone or laptop more than your
husband. An evening on my own to just type and scroll sounds like heaven.
I actually cried when I smashed the screen on my laptop the other day but
when my husband nearly ‘accidentally’ chopped his finger off the other
day, I hardly noticed.
3. When you go to a John Lewis home store, you spend far too much time just
browsing the cushions and throws section of the store. You have thoughts
that perhaps you could buy some extra blankets, so your guests have one
whenever they pop round!
And just when you think, oh I’m still young, we should go out more. Live a little! But then, the home phone rings. It’s just gone 9pm and you ask yourself, who on earth telephones after 9pm? It’s far too late to be taking calls. And it is at that precise moment that you realise you’ve slowly morphed into your parents.