This post is written through desperation. An overwhelming need to let things spew forth. It will ramble. It will make Jennie lose her grammer police shit. The spelling will no doubt suck also. I dont care.
I am about to indulge in the worst case of self pity you have ever seen. Be warned, it wont be pretty or necessarily make any sense but I need to get this crap out of my head and then easier to deal with and find a solution.
AS you may know if you have read any of my other blogs...
I have 4 kids. Two early teens and two little ones under 3. My husband works quite far away away, so he drives an hour or so in the morning and arvo . He needs to be up just before 4 to leave at 430 to work all day with only a15 min smoko so he can leave half an hour early to be back not longer after I go to work. Yes after I go to work. He comes home to 4 kids cooks tea and 4 nights a week drives around to some form of training etc with the two older ones before getting little ones into bed. It must suck and I mean that, its not sarcasm. My day is much the same starting with school drop off then house work etc and then the madness starts at 2 as I get ready for work.
At 2:45 my elder son gets home from school. I then bundle the babies into the car, set off for my elder daughter to pick her up around 3, drive home drop them all off and settle them in where they get given jobs like the dish washer unpack or hanging out the last load of washing while looking after the babies till Dad gets home about 15 mins later.
I drive a half hour to work to start at 4. I run nightfill for dept store. I walk in (usually 10 mins late) and hit the ground running as everyone bombards me with requests for tonight's work load and so on and so on. I work like a , well like a hard working person, until home time. Home time is meant to be 12:30 but just lately with big boss visits and wage cuts more like 1:30am. Its 2 am by the time I get home and 3 by the time I have "wound" down enough to sleep. I "should" have an assistant Manager under me. I don't. They couldnt afford one in the budget until the new financial year. Its now nearing the end of August and I am still doing a job where I used to have 3 department managers underneath me that the company scaled back to one assistant manager under me , on my own. I blame the late nights and doing the work of (at least) 2 people on why I have got sick with this cold/bubonic plague. I tried to call in sick at the end of the week, guess what? Turns out you cant call in sick when you have no one to cover you , you just have to come in "until you can't go on and then just lock up and go"
My husband no longer stirs when I crawl into bed and I am not disturbed by his exit of the bed at 3:45am. I am woken around 6am by the baby , who at nearly 18 months old still has his cot in our room as we just don't have the energy to take more than 4 steps should he wake during the night ( which he still does regularly) .I am lucky that the older two especially my daughter will feed the babies before school so I can hang onto to every last minute my head is on the pillow but still we are on the road by about 8:30. That means I average maybe 5 hours a night actually in my bed and around 4 hours a night sleep if i am lucky.
So what's the problem you ask? Well I just don't think we can do it much longer. Any of us, even the kids. I am here for them during the day so they don't go to day care (not an option anyway as it wouldn't be worth working with the cost) but I am not really there. I am dead tired. I am cranky. The house is a mess. The kids are never dressed before 2pm I don't see my husband 5 days a week and see my older kids about half an hour a day. I talk badly to them. I tell them to just go away, to leave me alone, to just please let me sleep. I know my husband is much the same , the kids have told me. Just plain cranky. I think he spends much of the evening yelling because he is so knackered.
Then there is me and him. Passing each other coming in and out of the house. We don't even pass each other coming in and out in the afternoon, in fact I hate to see him driving past me as I leave because rather than being happy to see him it simply means I am going to be really late for work today!.
If we keep going another year or so the house will be worth more. We could move to the country and have a small mortgage and I can stay home with the kids. ( plan needs some work ie, need to find husband a job and so on but you know, whatever, its still my plan) I don't think I can go another year can I ? Can he? Can the kids? Is it worth it to be better off financially , or am I sacrificing the kids childhood that I can never get back???
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Friday, 20 April 2012
Things That Make Me Lose My Shit #1
TTMMLMS #1 WESTERN AUSTRALIAN DRIVERS
Ok, so this is a hammered topic. We all know what everyone says, WA drivers are dog excrement. Well peeps, it's true.
I'm known for having a wee bit of road rage. Not the ram your car into an emergency lane, drag you out of your car and beat you with a tyre iron kind of road rage. More the scream at you with exaggerated mouthing movements, with accompanying finger gestures kind of road rage. Or, using my Bluetooth to call the cops on your texting ass. Here's why:
Indicators: Ok you bunch of tards, this is Indicating 101 for the Motor Skills Impaired.
Indicators are wonderful things. They are not a superfluous contraption added to your car to bulk up the spec sheet. They have a purpose - to tell your fellow roadgoers where you intend to go in your one tonne weapon.
It comes down to courtesy. You may think you are the most important person on the planet. The only such person with a destination who does in fact own the road and is sharing because your mum told you to. Alas no. YOU, along with every other noddy on the road has a duty to tell other people where you INTEND to go. And I say intend, because simply flicking that indicator on for 1/2 a millisecond doesn't give you the right to veer across three lanes of traffic. I know! Mind bending shit this is.
Want more?
Indicating once you are already in a slip lane is in fact moot. The sheer fact you are already in the slip line kinda gave that away. Dick. Head. Coulda done with that info 40 metres ago.
Flicking your indicator on for 3 milliseconds while you are already straddling that funny broken white line whilst simulatanously cutting me off forcing me to brake. Also moot.
An extra special treat is when you do this on the freeway and then break to 80km an hour. WTF. If my pink exploding head could kill then you'd be dog food.
Please indicate when EXITING a roundabout. That's right. You indicate left when approaching your exit. Kinda tells the people waiting to enter at the road after your exit you are getting off the roundabout. Nifty.
Exiting a two lane roundabout from the right hand lane doesn't give you the right to simultaneously veer straight into the left hand lane while accelerating, effectively cutting off the car in front from the inside. I know. Heavy stuff. Same goes when turning right at traffic lights into a two lane street. Moving into the left hand lane is a separate action. Lifting your big fat tuck shop arms for several movements may be tiring, especially if you are driving a manual, but please, think of the children. It's just like driving when eating a cheeseburger except using the other hand in a charitable way, not calorie comsumption.
Getting up my arse isn't gonna make me go any faster. I'm doing the speed limit. I know I have an IQ greater than Forrest Gump and don't need an accelerator to make me feel like I have a big penis. In fact, I have a vagina. Immensly superior, as vaginas can multi-task.
Driving a Commodore doesn't make you Peter Brock. He DID know how to drive and look what happened. Dickheads like you are only alive due to the common sense of all the other drivers who see you coming and get the fuck out of your way. Same goes for WRX drivers and anyone driving clapped-out shitpile rice racers. Your car is shit and so are you.
I know you think you are being awfully sly, but everyone knows you are texting. That's because I'm not texting and using the magic of my rear view and side mirrors to keep check on what you - the dickhead behind me - are doing. Laws exist for a reason you know. Being stupid and ignorant must be awfully taxing, but please try, if only to humour me.
And OH MY GOD - to all those with a straw hat on the rear shelf. Speed limits exist for a reason. While exceeding the speed limit makes you a closet Commodore driver, doing 20km under is also infuriating. Speed limits ensure the flow of traffic. If you are too afraid to do it, take a side street or get the hell off the road.
Taxi drivers. Shit. I don't have the energy for this one.
And there you have it. For now. My shit has been lost.
Until the next installment, if you see a black Nissan Dualis*, behave yourself or I'll hit the cops on voice command faster than you can text 'OMG'. They are sick of me and it's all your fault.
*Haha, I know, there are lots of us. Which one am I? Douche.
Ok, so this is a hammered topic. We all know what everyone says, WA drivers are dog excrement. Well peeps, it's true.
I'm known for having a wee bit of road rage. Not the ram your car into an emergency lane, drag you out of your car and beat you with a tyre iron kind of road rage. More the scream at you with exaggerated mouthing movements, with accompanying finger gestures kind of road rage. Or, using my Bluetooth to call the cops on your texting ass. Here's why:
Indicators: Ok you bunch of tards, this is Indicating 101 for the Motor Skills Impaired.
Indicators are wonderful things. They are not a superfluous contraption added to your car to bulk up the spec sheet. They have a purpose - to tell your fellow roadgoers where you intend to go in your one tonne weapon.
It comes down to courtesy. You may think you are the most important person on the planet. The only such person with a destination who does in fact own the road and is sharing because your mum told you to. Alas no. YOU, along with every other noddy on the road has a duty to tell other people where you INTEND to go. And I say intend, because simply flicking that indicator on for 1/2 a millisecond doesn't give you the right to veer across three lanes of traffic. I know! Mind bending shit this is.
Want more?
Indicating once you are already in a slip lane is in fact moot. The sheer fact you are already in the slip line kinda gave that away. Dick. Head. Coulda done with that info 40 metres ago.
Flicking your indicator on for 3 milliseconds while you are already straddling that funny broken white line whilst simulatanously cutting me off forcing me to brake. Also moot.
An extra special treat is when you do this on the freeway and then break to 80km an hour. WTF. If my pink exploding head could kill then you'd be dog food.
Please indicate when EXITING a roundabout. That's right. You indicate left when approaching your exit. Kinda tells the people waiting to enter at the road after your exit you are getting off the roundabout. Nifty.
Exiting a two lane roundabout from the right hand lane doesn't give you the right to simultaneously veer straight into the left hand lane while accelerating, effectively cutting off the car in front from the inside. I know. Heavy stuff. Same goes when turning right at traffic lights into a two lane street. Moving into the left hand lane is a separate action. Lifting your big fat tuck shop arms for several movements may be tiring, especially if you are driving a manual, but please, think of the children. It's just like driving when eating a cheeseburger except using the other hand in a charitable way, not calorie comsumption.
Getting up my arse isn't gonna make me go any faster. I'm doing the speed limit. I know I have an IQ greater than Forrest Gump and don't need an accelerator to make me feel like I have a big penis. In fact, I have a vagina. Immensly superior, as vaginas can multi-task.
Driving a Commodore doesn't make you Peter Brock. He DID know how to drive and look what happened. Dickheads like you are only alive due to the common sense of all the other drivers who see you coming and get the fuck out of your way. Same goes for WRX drivers and anyone driving clapped-out shitpile rice racers. Your car is shit and so are you.
I know you think you are being awfully sly, but everyone knows you are texting. That's because I'm not texting and using the magic of my rear view and side mirrors to keep check on what you - the dickhead behind me - are doing. Laws exist for a reason you know. Being stupid and ignorant must be awfully taxing, but please try, if only to humour me.
And OH MY GOD - to all those with a straw hat on the rear shelf. Speed limits exist for a reason. While exceeding the speed limit makes you a closet Commodore driver, doing 20km under is also infuriating. Speed limits ensure the flow of traffic. If you are too afraid to do it, take a side street or get the hell off the road.
Taxi drivers. Shit. I don't have the energy for this one.
And there you have it. For now. My shit has been lost.
Until the next installment, if you see a black Nissan Dualis*, behave yourself or I'll hit the cops on voice command faster than you can text 'OMG'. They are sick of me and it's all your fault.
*Haha, I know, there are lots of us. Which one am I? Douche.
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
The Apprentice
Well I am Jennie. Jo's little sister and the aforementioned Apprentice.
Jo is sick. May got sick, so then Lucy got sick, then Ned, then Jo, then Jason. It seems Jack is the only one who avoided the scurvy. Maybe that's cos Smelly Boy never moves from the couch (love you!) That's the way it works at her house when there is 6 of you. So under instruction from Jo (I am not at all afraid of her, honest) it's my turn to post and entertain you all with my ramblings.
Let's stick with the stay at home mum topic, which I am completely new to, as unlike Jo, I have only have one child. Let's just say, my life is a wee bit different.
I have one child, the unbelievably lovely little miss Lilly. She's 5 months old and the centre of my world (she's currently sat on my lap trying to press the computer keys and moisturising the dining table with her drool). It took nearly 6 years, 4 miscarriages and a whole bunch of fertility treatment before I finally got to bring my baby home. Therefore my journey to motherhood hasn't been easy and something I had started to fear, may never happen. Jo was 20 when May, my eldest niece, was born. I was 6 days shy of 30 when Lilly arrived, by which time Jo had successfully produced enough occupants for every bedroom in their house. Bedlam for her, but handy for me. No one needs parenting books when your sister lives a few streets away with a house full of kids.
Currently, I am on 12 months maternity leave so technically, I am a stay at home mum.. Quite simply, it's a bit boring. Now, don't misinterpret what I mean by that. Lilly is everything to me - I fought tooth and nail for her very existence. Being a mum is BRILLIANT. But, being a stay at home mum is not what I expected. I used to be adamant that being at home with kids was the dream job and Jo used to tell me I would get bored. Ugh, I hate it when she's right.
Prior to getting pregnant, I worked full time. I'd get home around 6.30pm and would do all my chores such as cooking, washing up, laundry, ironing, cleaning the house, washing cars and maintaining a yard (well, I'd make my husband do that, but I would supervise!) in the few hours between getting home and going to bed so we could enjoy the weekend together (my husband works in retail so every second Saturday I'd be home alone, which is shit and another blog topic all on it's own).
Now, I have ALL DAY EVERY DAY to do these chores. Add in changing dirty bums, feeding and playing with Lil and I still have about (hmmm, x 2, - 10, carry the one) err, about a bazillion hours left. So, I go to Jo's house and get in her way while she tries to clean, while pretending that the ginormous pile of washing on her dining table doesn't exist. We try and sew things for LucyBug & Friends. I go to the shops. A lot. I am running out of stuff to do.
I actually miss work. No way do I want to go back full time, Lilly is my priority. But I am actually looking forward to working 2 days a week. Interacting with adults. Achieving something other than stain removal. Being told I've done a good job. And the money would also be preferable to a spew in the face.
I also want many more children. Bring it on, yay for frozen embryos!
Women who are home with kids and whinge about how hard it is make me stabby. Especially when they get pregnant at the drop of a hat. ITS YOUR JOB. You chose this. Now appreciate how lucky you are and stop complaining!
Jo is sick. May got sick, so then Lucy got sick, then Ned, then Jo, then Jason. It seems Jack is the only one who avoided the scurvy. Maybe that's cos Smelly Boy never moves from the couch (love you!) That's the way it works at her house when there is 6 of you. So under instruction from Jo (I am not at all afraid of her, honest) it's my turn to post and entertain you all with my ramblings.
Let's stick with the stay at home mum topic, which I am completely new to, as unlike Jo, I have only have one child. Let's just say, my life is a wee bit different.
I have one child, the unbelievably lovely little miss Lilly. She's 5 months old and the centre of my world (she's currently sat on my lap trying to press the computer keys and moisturising the dining table with her drool). It took nearly 6 years, 4 miscarriages and a whole bunch of fertility treatment before I finally got to bring my baby home. Therefore my journey to motherhood hasn't been easy and something I had started to fear, may never happen. Jo was 20 when May, my eldest niece, was born. I was 6 days shy of 30 when Lilly arrived, by which time Jo had successfully produced enough occupants for every bedroom in their house. Bedlam for her, but handy for me. No one needs parenting books when your sister lives a few streets away with a house full of kids.
Currently, I am on 12 months maternity leave so technically, I am a stay at home mum.. Quite simply, it's a bit boring. Now, don't misinterpret what I mean by that. Lilly is everything to me - I fought tooth and nail for her very existence. Being a mum is BRILLIANT. But, being a stay at home mum is not what I expected. I used to be adamant that being at home with kids was the dream job and Jo used to tell me I would get bored. Ugh, I hate it when she's right.
Prior to getting pregnant, I worked full time. I'd get home around 6.30pm and would do all my chores such as cooking, washing up, laundry, ironing, cleaning the house, washing cars and maintaining a yard (well, I'd make my husband do that, but I would supervise!) in the few hours between getting home and going to bed so we could enjoy the weekend together (my husband works in retail so every second Saturday I'd be home alone, which is shit and another blog topic all on it's own).
Now, I have ALL DAY EVERY DAY to do these chores. Add in changing dirty bums, feeding and playing with Lil and I still have about (hmmm, x 2, - 10, carry the one) err, about a bazillion hours left. So, I go to Jo's house and get in her way while she tries to clean, while pretending that the ginormous pile of washing on her dining table doesn't exist. We try and sew things for LucyBug & Friends. I go to the shops. A lot. I am running out of stuff to do.
I actually miss work. No way do I want to go back full time, Lilly is my priority. But I am actually looking forward to working 2 days a week. Interacting with adults. Achieving something other than stain removal. Being told I've done a good job. And the money would also be preferable to a spew in the face.
I also want many more children. Bring it on, yay for frozen embryos!
Women who are home with kids and whinge about how hard it is make me stabby. Especially when they get pregnant at the drop of a hat. ITS YOUR JOB. You chose this. Now appreciate how lucky you are and stop complaining!
Monday, 13 February 2012
My hair. Its looking ...pretty crap actually
Jennie got a haircut. Nothing too new, she has been getting them since she was probably around 18 month old I guess. We have pretty much the same kind of hair, dark brown, straight and THICK. We get it from Dad. We know this from the mid 1970 pictures of Mum and Dad where his long shiny locks totally outshine Mums.
We also have similar kinds of haircuts. Not the same but both wear it cut into a "bob" (I had it first , she copied) Unfortunately we both have very grey hair especially for our age. We get that from Both Mum and Dad (joy!) Anyway this premature greying ( I started to find the cursed greys around age 15) means we are both dark haired, as in which ever shade of dark brown we choose.
Now, as is the common theme you might be picking up here on our lives being a little different, Jennies chosen shade of brown is picked from a big book with loops of hair samples in it and along with the haircut takes a good couple of hours in a comfy chair whilst drinking a cuppa and reading a glossy mag.
My chosen colour has been the same for a good number of years. Its called 118 Nice and Easy, takes about 5 rushed minutes in the bathroom to apply while holding the door shut to stop small people joining me on the glue sniffing experience that is home hair colouring . Once on its followed with a head wrap to help the colour develop. Its a pretty effective and dead sexy head wrap that looks like a plastic shopping bag secured at the front with a peg. Of course its not actually a plastic bag and peg its a ...ok it is a plastic shopping bag and peg but the babies are getting used to it and don't run to Dad crying every time I exit the bathroom any more.
I , being a multitasking cosmopolitan career woman with kids, always return to my busy life while leaving the colour to do its "thang" and plan the salon experience around other thing to be time effective so you'll find me cooking tea, hanging out washing (blah) with said sexy plastic bag on my head getting beautiful (aka fit to leave the house, sort of) Removal of hair dye is scientific indeed and is performed nude in the shower with the the conditioning waiting time used to clean the shower. I have always been very careful to lock the door at this point because should my husband ever walk in to the bathroom at the exact moment I removemy clothes but still have the plastic bag on my head... well, I fear we would have many more children as that is one very HOT look.
So my hair needs doing ...again. I am not overly fussy on my appearance mainly cause its a waste of time, not much is gonna help me but I try not to walk around with grey hair as nobody believes I am only 32 with brown hair so looking like a female Richard Gear doesn't help the cause at all. I always think a colour goes on a bit nicer on freshly cut hair so I usually fly down to the hair dressers get a quick cut ( go with wet hair , get it cut, no cuppa no blow dry, see ya next year ) then I come home and colour it , somewhere with in the next week.
When Jennie turned up yesterday with her fresh salon do, as you do, I remembered I had hair I just hadn't seen it because I have been tying it up and, I have smashed all the mirrors in the house ( joke) That's when I realised it had been a while...
How long you ask? Well, Neddy boy is 8 months old and I have had one haircut. I have coloured it though so I don't need to change my name to snow white just yet.
It kind of explains though why my "bob" is in a pony tail.
I just don't understand how I didn't notice it wasn't styling quite right when I blow dry it.
Oh hang on it's been a while I guess since I blow dried it. How long? Well Neds 8 months old so...
We also have similar kinds of haircuts. Not the same but both wear it cut into a "bob" (I had it first , she copied) Unfortunately we both have very grey hair especially for our age. We get that from Both Mum and Dad (joy!) Anyway this premature greying ( I started to find the cursed greys around age 15) means we are both dark haired, as in which ever shade of dark brown we choose.
Now, as is the common theme you might be picking up here on our lives being a little different, Jennies chosen shade of brown is picked from a big book with loops of hair samples in it and along with the haircut takes a good couple of hours in a comfy chair whilst drinking a cuppa and reading a glossy mag.
My chosen colour has been the same for a good number of years. Its called 118 Nice and Easy, takes about 5 rushed minutes in the bathroom to apply while holding the door shut to stop small people joining me on the glue sniffing experience that is home hair colouring . Once on its followed with a head wrap to help the colour develop. Its a pretty effective and dead sexy head wrap that looks like a plastic shopping bag secured at the front with a peg. Of course its not actually a plastic bag and peg its a ...ok it is a plastic shopping bag and peg but the babies are getting used to it and don't run to Dad crying every time I exit the bathroom any more.
I , being a multitasking cosmopolitan career woman with kids, always return to my busy life while leaving the colour to do its "thang" and plan the salon experience around other thing to be time effective so you'll find me cooking tea, hanging out washing (blah) with said sexy plastic bag on my head getting beautiful (aka fit to leave the house, sort of) Removal of hair dye is scientific indeed and is performed nude in the shower with the the conditioning waiting time used to clean the shower. I have always been very careful to lock the door at this point because should my husband ever walk in to the bathroom at the exact moment I removemy clothes but still have the plastic bag on my head... well, I fear we would have many more children as that is one very HOT look.
So my hair needs doing ...again. I am not overly fussy on my appearance mainly cause its a waste of time, not much is gonna help me but I try not to walk around with grey hair as nobody believes I am only 32 with brown hair so looking like a female Richard Gear doesn't help the cause at all. I always think a colour goes on a bit nicer on freshly cut hair so I usually fly down to the hair dressers get a quick cut ( go with wet hair , get it cut, no cuppa no blow dry, see ya next year ) then I come home and colour it , somewhere with in the next week.
When Jennie turned up yesterday with her fresh salon do, as you do, I remembered I had hair I just hadn't seen it because I have been tying it up and, I have smashed all the mirrors in the house ( joke) That's when I realised it had been a while...
How long you ask? Well, Neddy boy is 8 months old and I have had one haircut. I have coloured it though so I don't need to change my name to snow white just yet.
It kind of explains though why my "bob" is in a pony tail.
I just don't understand how I didn't notice it wasn't styling quite right when I blow dry it.
Oh hang on it's been a while I guess since I blow dried it. How long? Well Neds 8 months old so...
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
To my pants...
Dear Pants,
Pants, we need to talk. You keep falling down, what is with that? Now you know I have been trying very hard. You know this due to the convo's we have most evenings when I put you on for work and I tell you how good I have been and beg for your mercy around my waist/bum/legs.
So this falling down business. Stop it. Stop winding me up. I have to keep pulling you up but its not how I wanted it to be between us. I wanted it to be as good for you as it is for me. I wanted to put you on and feel comfortable and for you to be able to relax that you weren't hanging on for your life every time you met ass.
We were a team in this, driven by need of comfort/fear of tearing but we are failing. We are letting the enemy win. Its looks like I am pulling you up but I am not. I am tugging you up...because ass is winning. Ass is PUSHING you down. Stay strong little waistband (AKA big sturdy elastic waistband) we can do this together as long as you stay strong and I stay sucked in...Grrr to ass.
Pants, we need to talk. You keep falling down, what is with that? Now you know I have been trying very hard. You know this due to the convo's we have most evenings when I put you on for work and I tell you how good I have been and beg for your mercy around my waist/bum/legs.
So this falling down business. Stop it. Stop winding me up. I have to keep pulling you up but its not how I wanted it to be between us. I wanted it to be as good for you as it is for me. I wanted to put you on and feel comfortable and for you to be able to relax that you weren't hanging on for your life every time you met ass.
We were a team in this, driven by need of comfort/fear of tearing but we are failing. We are letting the enemy win. Its looks like I am pulling you up but I am not. I am tugging you up...because ass is winning. Ass is PUSHING you down. Stay strong little waistband (AKA big sturdy elastic waistband) we can do this together as long as you stay strong and I stay sucked in...Grrr to ass.
Monday, 6 February 2012
No, you're not a super mum just because you are famous!
If I see another magazine calling a celebrity a super mum just because she is fecking famous, I am going to go postal.
Life must be so tough when you have a bazillion dollars. Nannies to mother your kids when they aren't required for photo ops, chefs to feed you the right calorie controlled food, personal trainers to force you to work out so you can be a size 8 three weeks after baby, cleaners to clean your house and wash and iron your clothes. Assistants to tell you what you're doing today, dress you, do your hair, your makeup, your shopping and wipe your ass. Shit. Sounds hard. Of course you are a supermum!
Now come closer so I can stab you in the face.
Put your hand up if you are a regular mum and know what it's like to actually live your own life!
Life must be so tough when you have a bazillion dollars. Nannies to mother your kids when they aren't required for photo ops, chefs to feed you the right calorie controlled food, personal trainers to force you to work out so you can be a size 8 three weeks after baby, cleaners to clean your house and wash and iron your clothes. Assistants to tell you what you're doing today, dress you, do your hair, your makeup, your shopping and wipe your ass. Shit. Sounds hard. Of course you are a supermum!
Now come closer so I can stab you in the face.
Put your hand up if you are a regular mum and know what it's like to actually live your own life!
Sunday, 5 February 2012
More work? Oooh yes please...blahhh
Washing update:
Laundry: filling up :(
Table: Fuller than yesterday :(
Ok so it's Sunday night everyone is in bed - for now, except me. I am sick with a cold that's giving me the shits. The house is a tip and I really should go to bed. Except I can't sleep because I am thinking about work. Working part time is not really cutting it financially with 4 kids so I am seriously thinking I need to go back to full time work, at night ...oh the joy, yay for me. Stupid thing is I actually enjoy most of my job so I keep thinking if I am going to work 25 hours a week anyway just filling, I should just go back to my real job full time and earn some decent money and that makes sense to me, and the thought of being comfortable again is very appealing . On the other hand I just want to stay home with the kids without being totally knackered all the time. Well, I think I need to do something this week, make a decision.... I'll let you know :(
Ps, I've lost a kilo, one crappy hard fought kilo, yay only like 19kg to go :s
Jo x
Laundry: filling up :(
Table: Fuller than yesterday :(
Ok so it's Sunday night everyone is in bed - for now, except me. I am sick with a cold that's giving me the shits. The house is a tip and I really should go to bed. Except I can't sleep because I am thinking about work. Working part time is not really cutting it financially with 4 kids so I am seriously thinking I need to go back to full time work, at night ...oh the joy, yay for me. Stupid thing is I actually enjoy most of my job so I keep thinking if I am going to work 25 hours a week anyway just filling, I should just go back to my real job full time and earn some decent money and that makes sense to me, and the thought of being comfortable again is very appealing . On the other hand I just want to stay home with the kids without being totally knackered all the time. Well, I think I need to do something this week, make a decision.... I'll let you know :(
Ps, I've lost a kilo, one crappy hard fought kilo, yay only like 19kg to go :s
Jo x
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Stay at home vs working mum - ok lets do it this!
Washing Update:
Laundry: Not too bad :)
Dinning Table: Covered in clean washing.:(
I can honestly say May is a pretty good kid, she helps me out with the babies and doesn't cause me much grief at all.
Until now... I swear 3 days at high school has brought with it a shift in attitude and I have had a number of "what evas" and the dish washer is missing her love, little brat.
Lucy (#3) wants to be like the big kids and is hanging to be 4 and go to school, so this week she has been keeping her dodo ( her dummy) in a sandwich lunch box ready for school. Today I had to put her lunch "samich" in it and she must have thought she was in the playground eating it because alll the crusts and crumbs got thrown on the family room floor, yay for me!
The babies have both caught Mays cold so it has been a grumpy few days on Neddys part and last night at work I felt it coming on and today I am the same and feel like joining Ned in his winging.
I am getting used to getting up for school again after a late night. Usually because I can't sleep straight away I dont go to bed until 1.30/2am but I have been trying to go staright to bed to make it a bit easier.
This brings me too...a facebook post with a link this week about being just a Mum. It was basically talking about all the things you do when you are being "just a mum" like being a chef, a taxi, a teacher and all those things and not getting paid for it. And so begins the never ending debate about working mums vs stay at home mums and how hard it is to be either.
Well let me put my 2 cents in. Yes its a job in its own right being a mother and housekeeper. All those things the post lists are indeed true and spoken (well reposted) by a currently stay at home mum. If I had the luxury of staying home I could definitely fill my day especially with four kids and I would stay home in a heart beat but COME ON ladies I just don't get the debate!?
Isn't it stating the bloody obvious to even have to stay working mothers are doing it harder??
Now wait, hear me out before all you SAHM's start sending me hate mail and death threats!
I have done it all. I have been a100% stay at home mum, I have been a part time working mum, I have been a full time working mum both days and nights and I have even been a full time and then some working mum when I worked full time at home as a family day carer and then at night waitressing to help pay the bills. Now here's the thing. When you are a SAHM you have heaps to do, cooking, cleaning, washing (shudder) and so on and so on. When you are a working mum you have to do all that AND go to work! Not to mention all the work that goes into getting TO work, like getting kids ready and off to day care before you can even start your day.
This is not a hard argument to win. Being a SAHM is the easiest. Working part time is harder than not working and wait for it...working full time is harder than working part time. The end.
Oh and by the way, the woman ( a fully paid up MGUG member) who posted the link to the "just being a mum " piece had posted a status update while preggers about how hard it was to have a toddler, be pregnant and work 1 day a week. Well...which is it you dumb ass, pick a team will ya and stop your boo hooing.
Jo x
Introducing Me
So...
My name is Jo.
I am currently 32 years old (2012)
I am married and have been for 13 years. To Jason.
I have 4 kids aged 12,11,2 and 8 months. They are May, Jack, Lucy and Ned.
I have been a mother (as you can see from the figures) since I was 20 years old.
I work (currently 25 hours a week) doing night-fill since I went back to work when Neddy was 4 months old.
My "real job" is Night-fill manager, looks like I might be heading back to this full time soon.
I have recently discovered sewing and I love it.
I have a little facebook business with my sister (Jennie)
I don't like washing, which in a household of six can be a problem and if you popped over to visit would usually find either the laundry full of dirty stuff or the dinning table covered in clean stuff (ok ok usually both)
I don't mind cooking as longs as its sort of quick
Can never, ever get every room in the house clean at the same time!
So...
I have thought about writing a blog (actually in my mind it's more like an actual book, and it becomes hugely successful and all the morning shows want to interview and Oprah restarts her show just so she can put the book on her book club list...unrealistic??) because I basically feel the need to rant all the time over many things.
One of my main rant inducing subjects are other mothers and their carry on over useless crap. Their need to be one up on each other even though the other mothers they are in such competition with are apparently their friends. Then there is the need to be doing it the hardest but more successfully than anyone else on the planet ever has! Now I know (because I have read many other blogs) that I am suppose to be in this gang, this mothers group united gang (lets call them MGUG) .And from what I can gather I could be an elder amongst the tribe. My small would grant me entry into the club and my older ones would give me wise owl status, allowing me to lord it over the "new recruits" to the world of mothering but I would rather do 60 loads of washing in a row than step foot in the club rooms of the mummy! I realise this attitude will not make my blog very popular with other mothers who are paid up members of MGUG and thank god for that.
Here to follow will be my random blogs about my life and general daily stuff and what I think about it all :)
Jo x
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