FFS Friday -The "It's ok I didn't really need my second kidney" Edition

Energy bill arrived. FFS.

It was double the budgeted figure, messing up my healthy budget once again.  FFS.

Despite all our energy saving efforts, and an air con that was not working for six weeks of a twelve week period, it still looked like this. FFS.

Mother. Fucker.

I have a Visa Debit card to avoid further ridiculous debt through the devil spawn known as credit cards. These cards are simple and functional and I love them. So I happily pay for things on the internet or phone all the time. Until now. FFS.

I tried to pay for something on the internet today, and it refused my card. Despite the fact that it fully functional through the Visa system, they will only take CREDIT CARDS. FFS.

I would reluctantly use the credit card as a last resort but I CUT THEM UP BECAUSE THEY ARE THE DEVIL. FFS.

So now I have no options and I'm a weeping mess. FFS.

We had another repeat of the "let's play a stupid game all day" teacher at Tiger's school. FFS.

It seems I have the only child in the class who comes home pissed off because "We played a stupid game and didn't learn ANYTHING at all." Everyone else is more interested in how they can get that substitute back again so they can goof off. FFS.

There's only a week until Frog's birthday party. FFS.

Despite a strict RSVP date of tomorrow (including "Things you need to know" note stating I have to give definite numbers by that day) the only reply to Frog's invitations have been my parents. FFS.

I am alternately having nightmares about having A) hoardes of people turning up that I haven't catered for; or B) tumbleweeds blowing past our mountain of party food and my child crying in the corner. FFS.

The next person who tells me "Oh no one RSVP's anymore" will get a fork in their eye. I always RSVP, and anyone who doesn't is a fucking rude bastard. FFS.

I have signed up to the 12 Week Body Transformation which means I have to do that exercise stuff that crazy people do. FFS.

And stop the denial about my midnight snack habits. FFS.

All this while WonderMan stocks the pantry with baking for the work/school lunch week ahead. FFS.

If Michelle tells me I can't have wine I will Lose. My. Freaking. Shit. FFS.

    

  

Wordless Wednesday - The kids do dinner

Leek, tomato and oregano rissoni

Muhnday Schmunday

Hello Monday.

Yeah, that's what this little black duck looks like on any given Monday.

But despite the Monday air, I managed to kick butt and achieve something.

I let my excuses go and finally sorted and tidied Tiger's room.

She has been living with "moving box furniture" since we got here and I was so disappointed with myself for leaving it this long.

The problem is hers is the only room without built ins, so there's just nowhere to put anything. She has a toybox bookcase, a dresser and a desk. I sorted her books and stored some in the box compartment, leaving some room for her special things that she wants to display and also wants to keep out of grabby three year old Frog hands. 

I also used some bright baskets to add some colour between now and when we style her room and start purchasing some new furniture down the track. She now has a place for her crafts, a basket with toys that are safe for grabby Frog hands, and one for her ever expanding collection of shoes (JUST like her mumma!).

Sunday was spent cutting out Frog's birthday dress, and deciding on fabric for a birthday gift for Tiger's friend who is having a sleepover party on the same weekend. I started sewing today and hopefully will get my sewing room tidied later this week!

I'm sticking to my Buy Nothing New In May challenge - with a couple of small exceptions:

 the printable party pack for Frog's birthday, which I bought from Etsy, and I found cheaper than budgeted (why pay double just to add four letters to a banner that I am going to print myself??);

and some stuffing and various sized wooden beads to finish the birthday gift. It was a case of a few dollars to make something individual and special, or buying a random gift for a lot more dollars.

  

I managed an afternoon snooze without the complete system shutdown that normally results.

I even remembered my OSHC advisory meeting tonight and am now propped up with a cup of strong coffee trying to digest the new NQS documents. If I don't blog tomorrow you know my brain has exploded.

So on balance I think I'm winning, but I'll still step carefully over the next hour and a half in case Monday is hiding in wait, to pounce on me in my unsuspecting smugness.

 

For Fuck's Sake Friday!

Huzzah! It is Friday, go forth and whine my friends!

Don't mind if I do....

I have missed two (or is it three, I forget) FFS Friday's due to absolute complete screaming exhaustion. FFS.

And no, I didn't get to go to bed early... instead when I wanted to be blogging I was washing clothes, baking for lunches and trying to find my children underneath the mess that was threatening to suffocate me FFS.

On Saturday I decided to quit being a lazy bitch and do some exercise. FFS.

That afternoon, while cutting up one of WonderMan's old tshirts for rags I snipped the webbing in my hand with my fabric shears. FFS.

No-one believes me when I tell them these two things are related. FFS.

I haven't been able to do any more exercise because I couldn't use my hand so now I feel guilty and fat. FFS.
  
WonderMan spent the entire time at the hospital playing on his phone, letting ME take the children to the toilet, and wondering out loud how many stitches I was going to get. FFS.

It mofo hurt. FFS.

I got away without any stitches, but was reduced to doing sweet FA for the entire weekend. FFS.

So it got me out of the housework and the cooking but also meant I couldn't do basic things like read my book and drink my coffee at the same time. FFS.

Everytime I did do one of the few things I could do one handed WonderMan came and told me off as if I was pregnant with the second coming of Christ. FFS.

He wasn't that fussed about me moving furniture and painting entire rooms while I WAS pregnant. FFS.

WonderMan had to change jobs again. That or come home with a black eye because his boss is a bastard bully boy. FFS.

This meant I had to change our budget and add more bills.... now there are red spots in it again. FFS.

I've had two weeks off work and we're leading up to Frog's birthday and the budget already has red bits. FFS.

I can guarantee my magenta ink is going to run out while I'm trying to print Frog's birthday invites, and I don't have the funds to get a new one. FFS.

I didn't think about the fact that moving away meant that when one of the kids had a birthday we would have to have all the parents in our house for a long weekend. FFS.

And that they would be equally generous in their guilt tripping about having to come so far because it seems we are an inconvenience. FFS.

I just want to tell them all to fuck off but I can't because it's my daughter's birthday. FFS.

I started working out a list of daycare friends for Frog to invite and got a lecture from mum about "only having four, and don't spend too much money on .... blah blah blah" as if I was The Bitch and had no freaking idea. I've only hosted twelve kids parties of various styles and sizes before. FFS.

I don't want to have to see my MIL for four whole days. Her passive aggressive disapproval makes me want to cry and stab her alternately. FFS.

I am already feeling stabby and there's still three weeks to go. FFS.

No wait, there's only two. FFS.

WonderMan hasn't put the recycling bin out for six weeks, and it was full four weeks ago. FFS.

My invisible gardener turned up and trimmed my hedges. But not the top of the border hedge because that is a big job that requires an assistant. So my hedge looks like Peter Andre in the nineties. FFS.  

I can't work out if the ducted heating is going to cost more or less than buying wood and I can't afford either. FFS.

Frog is almost three. Which means she has more energy than her little body can hold, and goes at 100mph from eyes open to eyes closed. Super fun and super draining at the same time. FFS.

She is finding new and creative ways to have contrary hysterical tantrums to use up said energy. FFS.

She's also stopped sleeping unless spread out over our entire bed while we hang on to the edge of the mattress and shiver because she is allergic to the doona. FFS.

I've taken to sleeping in her bed through absolute desperation and discovered it's a million times more comfortable than mine, and is too small for WonderMan to share therefor warding off the wandering hands syndrome. FFS.

I'm getting the guilt trip for being too fecking exhausted to put up with the wandering hand. FFS.

My hand still hurts. FFS.

      
RIGHT.

I've had my whine, and a wine or two.

I'm popping over to Dear Baby G to have a laugh at everyone's week, you should too. 

Thankful Thursday - Schools Week

Today I received an email from Tiger's teacher.

I always wonder what I'm going to find when I open one of these, considering the first few weeks at school which were a pretty big struggle.

But this message made my day.

Not because of what happened, but because of what was done.

Apparently, during PE class today another girl said some pretty rude things to Tiger.

This made my heart break a little, because there's always that lioness inside you waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting human who upsets your cub. It's a normal reaction.

And I didn't find out about this after school when a note came home, or in a week when she finally breaks down and cries on my shoulder about it.

I found out within the hour. 

And in that hour the whole incident was dealt with and everyone was happy.

The teacher and the principal immediately spoke to the girl involved, and Tiger, and an admission and apology were delivered. 

 Everyone made sure  that she was feeling okay, that she was happy with the process and the outcome, especially considering this girl has bullied Tiger before.

I was absolutely blown away.

They did everything possible to make sure my little girl felt safe, secure, and happy after a bad situation.

I even got a teensy bit emotional when I received a follow up email after lunch, to say the school counsellor had caught up with Tiger in the yard and reported she was happy and secure.

For my anxious girl this is major.

I cannot say thank you to all the staff involved enough. I will be writing them a letter just to say how much their actions mean to me, and my daughter.

When she came home today I let Tiger know I had been told about an incident, and that it was all sorted out. She was happy and bright, and said "Mum, they made me feel great, and I don't feel angry, we all say stupid stuff sometimes". 

I don't know what was said, and I don't expect her to tell me, because I know she's okay.

We have never seen this level of care and commitment to the physical, mental and social happiness of our children.

There are a lot of schools who could learn by their example. 

And it's one more example that tells me we have come to the right place.

This is where we are meant to be, this is where our happiness begins.

And I am so thankful.

 

I'm linked up with Kate Says Stuff for Thankful Thursday.

You can also read a fantastic post by Denyse Whelan - here - saying thanks to our teachers and schools who are making our children's future brighter.

Could you do it?

Could you go a whole month without buying anything new?

I've decided to attempt it for the month of May!

Consumerism is becoming the plague of the twenty first century, a big ugly giant rearing it's head and causing all sorts of problems as the generations of "I want therefor I must have it yesterday" coming into their majority.

As the national personal credit total blows out further and further the CEO's of our financial institutions are grinning all the way to their yachts in the Hamptons.

We purchase more and more "must have" items which end up littering up our homes, our minds and our lives.

In our backwards state our wants are defined as needs, and our true needs go unfulfilled.

We need to embrace a little bit more simplicity.

Letting our light shine instead of being defined by what we "own" ( or the bank owns in the most part).

Don't get me wrong, there are things I want, very badly (anyone like to send me an iPad?, I'll bake you cookies and love you for life, promise).

But there are many many things I think about buying every day that when I pause, I realise we don't need at all.

Do I need to own every Top Gear episode DVD? Not right now,  I don't get time to watch TV much anyway.


Gee that's a nice scarf. Yeah but you have ten already, and they can all keep your neck warm just fine.

SHOES! SHOOOOOOOOES! Pretty shoes! We all have our weaknesses... Maybe I can visit them in the shop occasionally, like a mistress, nice on occasion but you wouldn't want to see her every day.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

The abundance of choice everywhere has seen me come home from the grocery shopping $100 over budget and unable to show anything for it, on more than one occasion in the past.

I have been guilty of buying on autopilot. Not engaging my brain and deciding whether we really need what I have in my hands.

We have learned the value of our money over the last few years, and I  in particular have become a stickler for checking that we are getting something out of everything we spend.

At the same time I am on a continuous cycle of removing that which we do not need, that lies unused and abandoned for the next thing.

So it's time to up the ante, and challenge myself to Buy Nothing New In May!

Obviously this has it's places where you can stretch the limits a little. 

It's Frog's birthday this month and at three she is probably not going to understand "Mummy thinks consumerism is the devil so here's a hug which is much more meaningful than a commercially produced toy". There would be some serious backlash there, and a prime example she can give to her "blame the parents" therapist in years to come.


But we have already budgeted for her small party and gift. Gift singular. Why does she need more than one? And besides, if she gets one present from each of our generous and extended family she will still have more things than I have places to put them.


The rule doesn't apply to necessities. I'm hardly likely to dish up second hand food to my family at dinner time.


You can purchase second hand, upcycled, or do a swap. 


Just don't buy new stuff.

Stuff you want simply because it's staring you in the face.


I'm cutting out stuff for the sake of having stuff. 


Learning to treasure the good stuff - the made up songs Frog sings any where and everywhere with no warning, the games we all play together on a cold rainy Sunday afternoon, the laughter when we spend time with each other. 


You are most welcome to join me, I'll be updating you on my progress throughout the month.


And if someone is really clever they could teach me how to create a linky button and we could get all professional and clever about this too...

S.T.F.U.

No really.

Shut up already.

Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

One more mind numbing, brain melting "if this is reality I'm ready to excuse myself from the human race now" program and the TV gets it.

How much drivel can you ingest before those pretty grey cells start dissolving faster than if I poured acid in your ears?

At night I can't sleep for the sound of a billion brain cells crying out for an escape, a respite from the smothering blanket fog of inanity.

When I do watch TV I mostly shout at it. A lot.

It's eerily similar to the scenes enacted every time I go through town and get cut off AGAIN by another knob-jockey with his brain removed who can't negotiate a simple roundabout.

I digress.

There are a lot of programs on television, which although not to my taste, I don't mind and make for good sport if you turn the sound down and make up the words after a few glasses of wine.

Harmless entertainment.

I have no idea what this new wave of mind slag is supposed to be but it is not entertaining. It is like a jackhammer to the sensitivities of anyone who dares to think outside the box. Who *gasp* have original opinions. Who THINK.

It's just hour after hour of drivel and people screaming "Oh. moy. gaaawd!"

Please tell me none of them are allowed to breed.

And before you tell me "If you don't like it don't watch it", I beat you.

I don't. 

Never have.

But you all won't S.T.F.U. about it.

It's on the news (the NEWS!)

It's on the radio every time I get in my car and I throw up a little in my mouth while waiting the one and a half seconds it takes to retune to 891 Adelaide.

It's endlessly debated, turned over and discussed to death on Facebook.

It's. In. My. Twitter.

Waves and waves of detritus seeping into every little bit of the world and I'm drowning.

I can't "mute" the hashtags fast enough.

In a flurry of childish rage I plot my revenge by tweeting throughout the entire Top Gear program every week. 

It makes me feel slightly less aggravated and hopefully aggravates someone else. A lot.

And then this happens and I know there is NO GOD.

So it's time now for me to return to my default setting, lest I burst a blood vessel.

I am the oldest, grumpiest 28 year old I know.

I need a sharp stick and a blue rinse.