For Fuck's Sake Friday - The "Is it next year already?" Edition

Linking up with Dear Baby G to get it off my chest one last time this year! Go on, let it all out... you know you want to...

I'm not at all impressed with 2011. It sucked big hairy balls.

And I still have to get through one and a half days of it. FFS.

I really wanted to go to Wine Country for New Years. So I could meet the locals, have a beer with WonderMan's lovely boss and family, and NOT BE HERE. That last bit is really the most important.... but it looks like I will be here after all. FFS.

WonderMan got to come home and stay for the whole week before Christmas. Yeah that was awesome, except the reason he was home is that his house flooded. And he did sweet fuck all of nothing while he was here except get on my nerves. FFS.

Turns out he can stay until New Year's because the insurance assessor didn't bother to turn up. So they can't touch the house until he gets off his festive drunken butt and finds a way to get out of paying any insurance. Meantime the house is sitting in six inches of mud, in high 30's heat for two weeks. FFS.

That little cottage was out back up plan if we didn't have a house to move into by moving day. But after the flooded January this year I'm not ready to risk it in the year of the Apocalypse. FFS.

So this means we have nowhere to stay for New Year's meaning we will be "celebrating" it here.  By celebrating I mean I am going to get wildly drunk and will most likely burn any bridges the Hicksville locals have not yet blown up. FFS.

 We get a choice of a big falling down house with no air con and lots of scrubby yard, or a courtyard home that is all new and shiny but has a pergola and a ten inch square of instaturf. Or paying over half WonderMan's wages every week to get a reasonable house with a bit of actual yard, and old broken down air con. FFS.

I'm so sick of propping up and fixing other people's houses, and putting up with the invasion of various wildlife, insects and rude landlords, I'm seriously considering the courtyard one... but it means $1000 dog has to stay at the farm for a while. FFS. 

Frog's non stop whine reminds me of a jet engine about to take off. FFS.

WonderMan has gone fishing leaving me to recover from the Christmas tonsillitis with two snarky kids and the housework. FFS.

 

Hello 2012.... how about you hurry up and get the FUCK over here. And while you're at it, use those dancing shoes to give 2011 one big fuck off kick in the rear.

Happy New Year biatches!

Yes I'm Still Sick But I Went To Work Anyway

I don't work in a tough job, I don't break my butt doing hard, sweaty labour all day.

But every now and then I consider getting a job like that in the hope my butt will stop being all squishy and fun for Frog to "play drums on".

Anyway...

Today was effing tough.

The golf balls in my throat are trying to choke me.

The ever present myalgia/ross river wannabe virus means that at the sight of a sniffle my muscles and joints freeze up and then burn with the fires of hell for days on end.

Standing up and talking to people all day was not what I needed, but I could hardly say I wasn't going to show up when I am the one and only back up when the bosses go away.

And I really need to be putting away some rental bond so I don't end up living in a box.

Also it would be CRIMINAL if I finally moved to wine country and had no moolah with which to buy wine to make me feel better when the demon muscles visit me next.

All I can say is "PRAIS JEEBUS" for the holiday down time, allowing us to shut the doors early and go the fuck home.

I'm not sure where my head was at when I decided to go out for dinner... but it was better than cooking and that's all I cared about.

I took my mum, my kids and my baby niece out without the dubious pleasure of WonderMan's hyperactivity (he is at the coast with Pa fishing for fishy wishes and reliably informs me his nuts have frozen off). My meal was so huge I feel like I'm a competitor in the Ultimate Sloth Championships.

Still quite crippled and pain wracked but the discovery of pain relief I was given from the last episode means I am high and crippled and pain wracked.


So in other words - I am all kinds of awesome right now. And will no doubt not be able to get out of bed in the morning. Meh.

Father Christmas came to our house and all I got was a cold.

Yep. That's right. I got a Christmas cold. Which two days after Christmas has become the worst tonsillitis I've ever experienced. 

And of course, the rest of the family are now sick too, and without doubt MUST be sicker than me, there's just no way I could possibly be truly ill at all.


I need a sarcasm font.


And a nurse.


And a holiday on a tropical island, but only after my cold goes away so I can actually enjoy it.


*COUGH*


It's a good thing my computer is immune to human viruses.


I promise when the gnome in my head stops drilling through my skull I'll post you some funnies.


See you soon internets.

For Fuck's Sake Friday - The Crazy Christmas Edition

Linky up with the gorgeous DearBabyG to let go of some headslapping type moments before Christmas, so I can enjoy some angst free wine this weekend!

Here's some of why this week has given me the shits:

WonderMan's house got flash flooded, which he used as an excuse to go to the pub. FFS.

Then the boss gave him a week off so he could come home. Frog and I spent the evening doing all the housework and waiting for Daddy. Who was over an hour late with no contact, driving at night in holiday traffic, and couldn't understand why I was flipping out. FFS.

Tiger went to stay with my Aunty and was asked to stay another night, with a perfunctory check for permission. If I had said no I would have been the demon witch to both my family and my daughter. I hate being put in that spot. FFS.

Getting no work in the month before Christmas put a stranglehold on my shopping budget. I had a choice between paying the bills or giving my kids Christmas. I chose my kids, so I won't be answering the phone for the next few weeks until I'm caught up again. FFS.

WonderMan got all the paperwork I asked for (finally). And left it at his house, possibly floating in the water. FFS.

We got invited to a friend's house for a Christmas/pre-moving catch up, and after an hour our hosts disappeared to either have sex, or have a domestic. Quite possibly both. FFS.

It's taken until today for my "war on couch surfing" to have an effect. I've been asking for help since Monday. FFS.

WonderMan is off having beer with his mate and insists he will be home in an hour. Yeah. Right. And that little piggy flying past just snorted too. FFS.

I never get invited anywhere. And if I did, I would get the "You can go... it's fine.... no really" until I got home at which point I would be guilt slammed as if I left for a month to go on a crack bender. FFS.

But if I say no to WonderMan I will get a hissy fit worthy of a PMSing, wine and chocolate deprived, raving madwoman. I can't win. FFS.

I finished sewing the girl's dresses, wrapped all the presents and have overseen the creation and baking of the kid's gifts to the family, and now I have nothing to do until Sunday, meaning I will have to sit down and talk to my MIL tomorrow because I can't find anything else to do. Hurry up Christmas! FFS!

Cheaper than MOFO therapy...

The One In Which My Patience Is Stretched Very Thin

I am not the world's most patient person, but I work on it.

Eight weeks of solo parenting, working and running the household has helped my tolerance levels immensely.

Today that carefully cultivated patience is stretched so very very thin, like gossamer strands of a silken web. 

Delicate.

Fragile.

Breakable.

I don't want to be a husband basher. But right now I could very easily become a husband stabber.

One look, one mutter, one flick of his iPhone while I'm talking to him and his life insurance better be worth something.

He's been home since Sunday afternoon and by Monday morning I was getting tetchy.

By yesterday I was having hot sweats and grinding my teeth.

By this afternoon I had developed a tick in my eye.

I have a tension headache from the effort of not screaming like a banshee and hurling his shit halfway down the street.

Why is it so fucking hard to get off his arse and HELP ME with something?

I'm sorry, but as far as I am aware, I am a partner, not the hired help.

I have been asking very clearly for help since Monday morning. I have a lot to get done by Christmas.

If he wasn't here I would have done all of it myself, or as much as I could possibly manage. 

And I wouldn't be crying my eyes out three sleeps before Christmas.

I have not sat down for one whole minute since I opened my eyes. Every day this week.

All WonderMan has done is sit down. All week.

And if my patience cracks just the tiniest bit he gets huffy. Like scorned woman huffy. As if I'm the devil incarnate when I'm pleading for him to do something as simple as change the toilet roll.

Because apparently life is very hard living on your own and having ZERO responsibility for anything or anyone. It's exhausting to get out of bed and move to the couch. 

It's a major drag having a partner who asks you to, like, do stuff.

And it's just too hard to drag your eyes away from your pathetic, moronic "friends" on Facebook to listen to one word your "wife" has to say.

Man, how could I possibly understand the daily struggle of deciding whether to watch the M*A*SH* reruns or battle across the loungeroom to pick up the remote.

I must be a total bitch.

Meet Me On Monday - The Christmas Edition

It's almost Christmas! 

Today I have 15 questions to answer (to take us through to the new year) thanks to Java at Never Growing Old.

 1.Wrapping paper or gift bags?

Wrapping paper definitely!

2.Real or artificial tree?

Artificial - I've been told if you keep your tree for more than five years it becomes more environmentally friendly than a real tree, and I've had mine seven so I figure I'm in carbon credit. One day I will buy a miniature tree in a big pot that we can move inside and decorate for Christmas each year so I will not only be helping the ozone layer I won't get dead pine needles on my floor.

3.When do you put your tree up?

Usually about the 10th of December, but I feel like we just put it up and it's down again, so this year we put it up on the 24th November.

4.When do you take your tree down?

Always before the first day of the New Year.

5.Do you like eggnog?

No. I don't like anything alcoholic with milk or cream involved. It is going to curdle at some point and I'm not letting that be in my tummy.

6.Do you have a nativity scene?

Yes, because even though I may not have a faith, it is important to teach my children the story and the reason behind the Christmas holiday. Mum bought me my nativity a couple of years ago, and it's beautiful.

7.Favorite Christmas Movie?

I don't like Christmas movies much. Too cheesy.

8.Favorite Christmas cookie?

Almond cresents (what are they CALLED? I can't remember) They are an almond shortbread and so smooth and creamy.

9.Where will you eat Christmas dinner?

We will have lunch at my Aunty's house. It's a WonderMan family year but they are not having dinner this year.

10.Angel, bow or star on top of your tree?

A star that my eldest daughter made when she was two.

11.Most annoying thing about this time of the year?

People seem to go all insane and selfish, and I never get the book I ask for.

12.Do you like Fruitcake?

Oh yes. Hand me a fruitcake and leave me alone til New Years....

13.What are you most excited about the holidays?

After Christmas we are moving somewhere lovely that has lots and lots of wine. So the holidays are just a means to an end really!

14.Do you open presents Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning?

Christmas morning.

15.Will you still be wrapping presents on Christmas Eve? 

I can be 100% sure of that yes, and probably still finishing my daughter's dresses too!

A big huge Merry Christmas to my Meet Me On Monday readers! See you in 2012!

On reflection...

I woke up yesterday morning and had a little mini cringe at my FFS Friday post.

So full of rage and pain.

So ANGRY.

Not what I really wanted to project, when I started off trying to make a giggle out of my shitty week.... but it just snowballed.

Now I'm really happy it's there.

On my blog, posted and out there for people to read. All my anger unleashed in a torrent.

But it's not in my children's faces.

It's not raging at them because I've had enough.
 
It's not manifesting itself in bad driving featuring the uni digit salute. 


It's not burning bridges with those around me.


It's captured in this little window on the internet.

Today I have never been more thankful that I have somewhere to let it out.

So that the people who don't deserve it don't feel it.


Thanks internet.

For Fuck's Sake Friday!

This post is linked up with Dear Baby G

It contains language and material which may offend but I don't give a rats.

I wrote several days ago about all the stuff I was trying to do all at one time and how freaking emo it made me, especially when WonderMan lets the side down and doesn't do what I very clearly need him to fucking do. Well the forms that were already two weeks late have only just been handed in by him after more than four weeks. When I bounce him about it he gets his fucking sulk on. Talking to him at the moment is so frustrating I have burst a blood vessel in my eye. FFS.

I really like my job, but the fifteen hours a week promised is bullshit and has averaged out to less than five and it's ridiculous to consider that I am in any way benefiting from holding this job, except that it gives me something to do and an excuse for the housework not to be done. FFS.

I had to sit through a meeting in which The Bitch abused me from before it started until it ended two hours later. And all I want to do is fucking punch her senseless but I'm not allowed to do that. FFS.

I have to spend my nights waking every twenty minutes because she's a complete fucking loose cannon and it's more than likely I could get a brick through my window or have my house set alight or have some fucking drugged up fuckwit try to shoot me. FFS.

My parents are still making me feel like I'm imposing on them every time I fucking see them. Like they are the only people in the world who are tired, or overworked, or stressed. Because looking after a baby is so fucking hard and no one else in the world has ever done it before. You know, because I'm not solo parenting two children myself or anything. FFS.

School holidays have started and until Christmas I don't think there will be one day that I get to spend with Tiger without a to do list longer than China. FFS.

In between everything I have had on in the last few weeks it has come to my attention that I have eight days in which to do my Christmas shopping and one of those is a Sunday. FFS.

I have an appointment in BoganCity on the 20th which means I have to squash in my entire shopping on that day, the 4 hour round trip, juggle a baby and go to the appointment in the hours childcare is open because GOD FORBID I ask my parents to look after my children for an hour or two. FFS.

I have to go into BoganVille shopping centre four days before Christmas on a SINGLE PARENT PENSION DAY and avoid committing homicide.FFS.

And I am pretty much guaranteed that I will run into Tiger's father, who will simper and wheedle and attempt to manipulate me into feeling guilty about the fact that he hasn't bothered to ring his daughter in three years, and his several sandwiches short of a picnic wife/exwife/wife whatever will say something fucking ridiculous about how much of a loving father he is while sporting a black eye. And I'm not allowed to kill either of them. FFS.

I dropped a note at work today and the second I bent down to pick it up was the second the automatic till, the one with the key sticking out of it, decided to open and smack me in the head at full force, leaving a fucking great dent (fast becoming a bruise) on my head. FFS.

My epi site is swollen, and my mysteriously broken arse is agony, meaning I'm currently walking like a lopsided scarecrow, and I have to dance a second concert on Sunday. FFS.

I fell asleep on the couch and dragged myself to bed not even giving a shit about not blogging or tweeting or emailing or whatever, and then some local suicidal fuckwit decided to come down my street torturing the engine of his car and shaking my windows as he screamed past out of control. And has done several out of control laps around the block since. Now I can't sleep for fear he is going to end up driving into my bedroom. FFS.

So at least he was useful for something before he kills himself and/or me because I managed to punch out a rage and fear fuelled FFS Friday post.

BRILLIANT. Bravo. Well done that man.

The most irritating thing about the whole deal is that I will be at work tomorrow morning, with big dark rings under my eyes, trying not to cry from sheer exhaustion, and some fucking twat is going to make a crack about partying my night away because. they. just. can't. help. themselves.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

Stab Stab Stabbity Stab

If you follow me on Twitter you will most likely have seen me having little hissy fits about random things that make me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork.

And as I go about my day I'm finding more and more. So I started making a proper list.

Things that make me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork today

• Reindeer antlers on cars
• Not having a dishwasher
• Women at the cafe whining about how they only get out with their husband "once a week without the children". They're not on loan you stupid bitch.
• Other women agreeing. (By the time my coffee arrived I was ready to stab all of them)
• The emo teenagers that work at my local supermarket. SAY HELLO. SMILE. YOU WILL NOT DIE.
• People who insist that "god will provide" for their tenth or twentieth or fiftieth child. Because ultimately it is society who provides, and quite often it's is a lot more than the people who work damn hard and pay the taxes to provide it receive for all their toil year after year.
• TV programs made after the year 2000.
• Paying $1-50 for the local newspaper which is essentially a sheet of paper covered in advertisements and a catalogue for sheep worm treatments. 
• Facebook.
• Providing 30 Christmas cards for Tiger's class mates. 
• Strapless articles of clothing and mini skirts worn two sizes too small by young girls who could start a land rights for whales group. If they accepted what size they were this would not bother me, but the sight of tortured, sweaty rolls of skin is nauseating.
• Women who bathe in disgusting perfumes. Especially cheap nasty perfume. Or Red Door, which should come equipped with a teeny tiny eye dropper and a biohazard sticker.
• Mobility scooters on roads. It is akin to hanging a hanky off a skateboard and cruising down the national highway. PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE.
• Curling ribbon. 
• Not being able to afford Christmas on a tropical island.
• Wedding planning. 
• People who spend their life offending you but are offended if you don't want their nasty arses at your wedding.
• Whining children. Especially my own. 
• The fact that I have to continue to bother with child support  to keep the government happy, but they waste thousands of dollars chasing $5 a week from a serial non payer. 
• Refusing to allow me to opt out of that system even though I am trying to save the government money. You would think they would jump at the chance.
• Filing.
• Scrapbooking stuff. Scrapbooking in general. The snootiness of some "scrappers" when presented with a Hallmark birthday card because I have better things to do with my life. 
• Not being able to convince my grandmother that I don't want any electrical appliances unless she's prepared to fork out for an industrial sized coffee machine or a thermomix. What I want is the book I have been hankering after all year, which will be in every grandchild's parcel except mine.
• People who sniff loudly and constantly instead of using a tissue. It makes me want to shove something hot and sharp up their noses.

What makes you stabby?

Hire me - I will bring you cookies....

Dear Potential Employer

Hire me.


Why?


Because I'm fantastic, that's why.


Need more proof? Well, if you say so...


I'm can think on my feet. I am lightning on the answer to such questions as "Why is the sky blue?" "If the earth is a ball why don't we fall off the bottom?" "Why doesn't that fat man just go jogging instead of driving around in his scooter thingy?" and various others. I can research a topic in an exceptionally small window of time when required.


If a job needs doing, it means I'm not at work. I will do my work, brew coffee, change the light bulb and write a mini manual on how to use the space age photocopier. I will prod and prod and prod until the person above me stops re-sorting their in tray and finishes the essential report I have to collate and bind with an hour to spare. I have a metaphorical big stick and I am not afraid to use it.


If you ask for the impossible I will tell you. But I will also come up with a solution. If you push me I will be quite happy to diplomatically tell you to go stick your head in a barrel. Which may quite possibly be the solution we were all looking for.

I have more patience than you could ever dream of. I have a pre-teen and a pre-schooler. I teach ballet classes full of little attitude filled girls. There is not a customer alive who could push my buttons enough to make me crack. Sure, I might go home and have a great big glass of wine and shout at them from behind closed doors, but while they are in front of me I couldn't care less if they got down on the floor and kicked and screamed. I once spent an hour on the phone explaining to a gentleman how you can have 33 days in an interest cycle, and why one month had 2 cents less interest than another. And I did not call him an idiot until I got home and muffled my head with the pillow.

I have children. You might see this as a problem when considering my application. I see it as getting the most multi-talented employee you could ever hope to find. I have taken a crash course in patience, diplomacy, fashion, land rights, the arts, finance, psychology and more. 

I will read the manual. I am a woman. I will read the manual. And it will be done correctly, the first time around. And if I don't know how to do something, I will learn how. 

Finances are a breeze. I am happy to forward evidence in the form of my budget calculations for the last two years, which I can assure you are not fairy stories.

I am currently perfecting the extreme mother "look". I have been in training with my mother for the last ten years and and can report great progress in reaction times. Rabid children can now be sent scurrying to their mother's sides in less than a minute, saving great losses in the areas of stock and employee sanity.

I believe in the lost art of customer service. You might have seen it on rare occasions. It does still exist, and with great care may be nurtured back off the endangered list.

My time management is excellent. I currently manage four individual schedules on a daily basis, and provide outreach services to many others.


I can bake. I will bring you cookies. And make you a birthday cake. And in return for a bonus I will conveniently forget to ice how old you are on top.


You're welcome.


I look forward to receiving your phone call.


Yours, Natalie.

~ Linked up with DiaryofaSAHM for I Blog On Tuesdays! ~
 

Meet Me On Monday!

I remembered! It's time to learn a little bit more about me, and hopefully I'll learn a little more about you too. I'm linking up at Never Growing Old 

 This weeks questions and answers are:

1.  Tomorrow I'm going to _________?

Sew another vintage inspired dress that I cut out on the weekend.

2.  Pudding or Jello?

I'm not sure what you mean by pudding, but it looks like something horrible my mother used to make called junket. I prefer dessert of any kind. Sometimes without dinner first.

3.  What book are you currently reading? 

The Zookeepers War by Steven Conte

4.  What is the first concert you went to see?

I've never been to a proper concert. I booked tickets to Xavier Rudd for my birthday a few years ago and he fell ill and cancelled the end of his tour :(

5.  What is your current weather?

Flipping cold today - summer seems to have forgotten it's well and truly December. Today it was 21C But for the last week it has been hot and humid, averaging 27-30C.

Not a lot of insight - unless you count the image of me wrapped up in my hastily pulled out woollies and shivering my way through some job applications.

Feel free to post your answers below, so I can Meet You On Monday too!

Designer bags under my eyes...

Today I'm surviving on three hours sleep, and three squished-up-pushed-out-of-my-bed-by-the-toddler-hours at that.

I'm cranky.

I'm down.

It's been a long week.

I'm in pain because I think I've done something to my tail bone and sitting down for more than two minutes makes me feel like I've got a broken arse.


I started last weekend with a visit from my niece because I was feeling bad about how tired my mum was. 


I should realise by now that when I do something for someone I'm going to get nothing back. Except a lot of bullshit, and a whole heap of tired.

I learned that you can't sweep faster than a crawling baby. They want that broom and they can move like lightning when they want it! Now I remember why I always vacuumed when Frog was small....


It was pure madness having three girls in my house and only one pair of eyes, ears and arms. Frog carted her dolly around and copied every move I made with the baby. Which at least kept her distracted from trying to pick up the baby every five minutes.


On the weekend I ran around between mum at work, dad at home (he has a car seat... how hard is it to put the baby in the car and drive half a km and buy a paper? HARD apparently....) and the things I had to do. And I still forgot to go to the craft shop before it closed, so the things I wanted to do on the weekend had to wait.


I mowed the back lawn... which was well and truly overgrown as I had kept forgetting to buy petrol for the mower. SO it was mow a corner, empty the catcher, mow a corner, empty the catcher, smash my arm on the throttle and mow a corner.

Sunday I discovered the bruise I had left on my soft white arm and why it hurt when I rolled over in bed. That fucker was 4 inches long and BLACK as night. OW.

Then I mowed the front lawn, taking care to bash my bruised and agonised arm on the mower as much as humanly possible, and my shins multiple times as well.


I got out the whipper snipper I gave WonderMan for his birthday.


I was a grinning weed splattered mess after playing with that for an hour, and there were no more feature weeds or scraggly lawn edges.

Thirty seconds into my shower my phone rang. It was the MIL, who was at the bus stop on her way back from Queensland and would I like to bring the girls down to see her for a bit, with all the passive agressive "If you are too busy I completely understand, I've just missed the girls so much" crap thrown in.

I bundled the kids in the car to zip down and see her for what turned out to be two minutes, with the bus driver tapping his foot at me. 


Cue smushy phone call from WonderMan to tell me how much it meant to his mother that I made the effort etc etc, and I was starting to get the prickly stabby feeling behind my eyes.


So I baked. 


And I cleaned.


And I decluttered.


And I scrubbed.


And in between I have run around after every man and his dog.


But not my $1000 dog because he's with WonderMan and I miss him. Especially when things go bump in the night.

It's the week before my ballet concert and on Monday we had the program rehearsal. Heaven help me I really hope a bad rehearsal means a good concert. In which case our concert will be FUCKING STUNNING. 


I am practicing my steps every day so I get through my dances without falling over/crashing into someone else/dying of embarrassment.


I am going to bed late at night, after mopping floors and dealing with Frog who thinks that bouncing on the bed is the new sleeping.


And who quite often misjudges and needs a Boo Boo Buddy for the latest tumble.


I'm searching for a house and a job, organising school enrollment and trying to get WonderMan to get off his butt and sign the damn forms I sent him two weeks ago - all from 600kms away.


I'm providing emotional and physical support to my parents, my children, my partner, my friends.


I've realised it's about two weeks until Christmas and I haven't even written a list, let alone booked a day to go shopping.


I am about to go and fight for the most heartbreakingly beautiful little girl who deserves to be here with us, in the safety and security that is our loving family.


I'm desperately scared of what may be required of me but by all that is holy I will do what it takes.


I'm. So. Tired.


But ask for help and a deafening silence engulfs me.


Where's my family when I need them?


Oh wait... they are over there, telling me to get over it and could I do this while I'm about it?


My parents are the king and queen of undeserved guilt trips.


The ones who promise all the support in the world and whenever I, rarely, have to ask for that offered support, I am made to feel like the worst person in the world for making THEIR LIVES SO TOUGH.


Well bite me, bitches, because this weekend I'm sleeping in. The kids and I are going to make origami Christmas decorations and sing Let It Snow until we lose our voices.


And Tiger and I are going to dance in our final concert with the Divine Mrs D. And I'm going to try really hard not to howl my eyes out when it's finished.


And I'm not getting off my broken bottom for anyone.

Hey, It's Okay!

I've been blogging pretty inconsistently for the past few weeks... sometimes it's by choice, sometimes it's by exhaustion, sometimes I just freaking forget. Like the last couple of days...

I almost forgot today, but figuring it is only just Tuesday over in good old America, where the lovely Amber resides, I am squeezing in a HIOT post.

TODAY IT'S OKAY:

To be sewing late at night. I have gone literally MONTHS without sewing, and I realised today that this is a good part of the funk hanging over my head.

To spend a little time wallowing in my funk. I just wanted to shout at someone for the last few days, and mainly I've wanted to shout at WonderMan.

To not feel bad about shouting at him because everything I said was perfectly valid, even if I did exagerate a teeny bit.

Okay a lot.

To want to move and not want to move at the same time. I don't want to be here, but I don't have the energy for the move.

To be excruciatingly anxious about having to make new friends once we do move.

To be a little freaked out about what may be coming in the near future, and how I will cope with it all. 

And to be determined to do what it takes anyway.

To be deliciously excited about a friendship lost, that has been found again in the last few days. It means this person is meant to be a part of my life.

To wonder what the hell happened to my cleaner. After a day when she had a sick child, and a day I was going away for the weekend, she just hasn't called me back or turned up as I thought we agreed.

To not care because I'm leaving and I will damn well do it myself until then... I've been doing it this long so it shouldn't kill me. I hope.

~~~

Also linked to Diary of a SAHM for IBOT

Smurfy Saturday

I'm taking the kids to the local cinema to watch The Smurfs movie tonight.

That is, if I haven't stuck their whiny, contrary, bitchy arses in a box and posted them across the world to be someone else's problem.

Because. My. Head. Is. Going. To. Explode. 

Seriously... how many more times can I live through Frog screaming "NOOOOOOOOO!" at me because she wants something but just wants to find a reason to scream?

NOT FREAKING MANY.

Tiger has completely turned her brain off along with her ears and I'm back to sobbing in corners after ten minutes with her.

I may leave my children in the cinema and run away.

So it better be good. Because if I go to all the trouble of getting these two ready and taking them out and I have to sit through something awful I may become homicidal.

So here's to The Smurfs - may you make me laugh. Because I need it. And I've been secretly wanting to see this movie since I knew they were making it, and am forever grateful that I have kids so I don't look like a complete numpty going to see it by myself.


If anyone who lives in my area wants to see it (haha.... like anyone here would actually pay attention to what I have to say) you are welcome to join us so as not to look like a numpty yourself. I promise to smuggle lollies in my giant handbag.
 

Cheers xx

FFS Friday - the "Why Won't You Listen To Me?" Edition

Why can't you all just OBEY me??

Why won't you listen to me?

Just do what I asked!

For Fucks Sake!!

This is what a normal day at Casa Del Natalie sounds like.

Today was no exception.

Welcome to FFS Friday.

ENJOY.

Today Tiger finally broke a months long morning habit and got ready quickly, with no fuss and  without having to be reminded, pushed, ordered or generally hurried up at all.

Frog ate her muesli one piece at a time with her fingers and then slowed down after that.

FFS.

I remembered I had offered to take my baby niece off mum's hands this morning.... forgetting that I was also having her this evening. And when I raced over there so I wouldn't be late she was asleep, and I had to wait around for an hour.

FFS.

WonderMan rang to ask me what he was supposed to do with forms he got from me ten days ago and should be at their destination already. And could he have some more money, even though he spent his budget already + some.
FFS.

At dance classes yesterday everything happened. Mums were tizzy, kids wouldn't listen. And then one puked. And the first thing I grabbed to wipe her up was my jumper.
FFS.

So along with all the general dance night run around, picking up my baby niece and dropping her off with Frog, and devils in tutus, I got to wash a toilet with wet paper towels as well. And the floor as well.
FFS.

My phone has been out of service ALL FREAKING DAY. So has my internet.

FFS.

It was out from 9am until 5pm. Do you know how long a day is without Twitter?? Very, ve-ry LONG.

FFS.

Frog has been in full force contrary mode all day. And has perfected the art of wanting and not wanting something at the same time, and sometimes not even knowing what it is she wants/doesn't want at any given second. She doesn't let that stop her though.

FFS.

It is ten pm, and she has just fallen asleep, in my bed. For the third time this week.

Oh FFS.

There is beer in the fridge, and there are funny things for me to look up on the internets.

Good night!

PS - You should totally go HERE and visit Sarah at Dear Baby G

She is all kinds of awesome.

Thankful Thursday

I've seen a lot of this for the past week:

 

Mostly sleeping...

 

Sometimes dictating...

 

But most wonderful of all.... she's mine.

I'm thankful to WonderMan for helping me bring this delightful girl into the world,

even if she does take up a lot of my bed at nights.

Linking up for Thankful Thursday with Kate Says Stuff