I do this sometimes. Maybe it’s hormonal. Maybe it’s seasonal.

Mrs Woog inspired me to look at my rants yesterday and publish them. Just like her, I’m not crazy, I don’t need therapy, I was just having a bad day.

Ready to visit the dark side with me?  You don’t have to, you can run away now if you’d like.

……Let’s go.

Samplings of a shitty day
(super awesomely imaginative title)

I’M ANGRY

I’m feeling unnecessarily angry at other drivers. How dare they drive in a manner I think breaks the rules? I haven’t bothered to look them up, because I don’t care. Other drivers are in the wrong. Why are they parking so shitty? Did they let their senile grandma drive them to the shops?

Oh for f****sake. If you don’t know how to use the self-checkout and need assistance, why did you try and go through it? Bitching about the lack of staff these days won’t help you be less dumb.

Why yes, I am wearing biker boots. Because that’s what bitches do. Now stop looking at me.

I’M SELF LOATHING

I feel crappy because I ate sugar and let my joints get inflamed. I feel crappy because I ate chocolate and flared up my reflux. I feel crappy because I stayed up past midnight, despite knowing the kids are up before dawn. All these things, I did to myself. Well done. Why not go get herpes while I’m at it?

Why did I come back to sugar after all this time, and why can’t I quit it again? The scales will just go up and up so long as I’m eating it, and my clothes won’t fit, and I’ll feel physically horrible. How pathetic am I that I can’t quit it when I already did before?

There are no job ads I want to apply for. They all suck. I’ll never get a bigger car or my own house. I should apply for public housing and go live with my own kind.

I’M SORRY

I love my kids. I love my life. Mostly I like myself. I just needed to eat some real food, decompress, detox and sleep.

Next time I’m in a funk, I think I’ll skip the emotional crap and just go straight for the burger.

]]> http://blundermum.com/2012/sometimes-negative-nelly-visits-shes-a-real-bitch/feed/ 3 http://blundermum.com/2012/things-i-know-today/ http://blundermum.com/2012/things-i-know-today/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 01:50:52 +0000 admin http://blundermum.com/?p=1730 Continue Reading …]]> 1. If I sneeze on the kids lunches and nobody sees me, it didn’t happen. If they sneeze on mine, I want a replacement.

2. Yelling “Mummy!!” as if it were an emergency when all you want to do is show me a ‘cool booger’, will result in me ignoring all further emergency cries. How long before the wolf comes and eats my children, I wonder?

3. Finally agreeing to fund extra-curricular activities results in requests to fund more extra-curricular activities – and to volunteer as well.

4. Every time one of my Facebook friends falls for a ‘Free Something’ scam, I lose a little respect for them.

5. The Wiggles are over.  I feel sorry for the new Wiggles and their future unemployment status.

6. On a related note, Anthony Field is as creepy as this guy on Masterchef. Fortunately for my current viewing preferences, creepy Masterchef guy is nicer.

7. When buying a fancy coloured toaster, and paying extra for the tinted privilege, I should probably check what colour my benches are first.

8. I’m not allowed to have pens at my desk. There’s a rule about that. If I want to write something completely illegibly, I have to work for it. Since I am also a habitual pen sucker, the pens that I find on the toilet floor are unacceptable.

9. Apparently shrinkage is acceptable. Fewer biscuits in a packet, less Vegemite in a jar…and now I can’t even win a car because so many promoters are offering ‘the use of a car’  for a short time instead. I already have the use of a car. I’m sure if I flash my boobs I can have the use of any car I like. Failing that, I could rent one instead of paying my own rego and repairs. Despite what anyone says, you can’t really defend shrinkage.

10. It’s hard to write a blog while protecting a 2 year old from the scary scenes in a movie she requested. For the bazillionth time. It’s okay though, the Disney Princesses scare the crap out of me too.

Never said the food I cook was edible though. Also, I should probably get a tripod and not balance my camera on a stack of books.

Also, I say Veee-Log. Because V & L don’t get to sit next to each other in the English language. Shh. Rules are rules.

Enjoy, the Lemon Meringue Pie Dare.

Hands up if you think I should exist solely on frozen meals.

Ewwwww.

That’s what I think too.

Happy Mother’s Day to me, hurruh! I haven’t had nits since I was a kid, and boy have I not missed it. What a pain in the bum. Spent the weekend stripping beds, washing hats, soaking brushes and combs…awesome.

Ok, for most households they might strip the beds weekly and having to do it is no big deal, but I hate it. It hurts my back and my old lady hip, and I loathe putting quilt covers back on. I’m not going to say how often I change the sheets but it sure isn’t weekly.

Ewwwwww.

Meh. Judge me all you like. You’ve seen photos of my housekeeping. You’re not allowed to be surprised.

So now, despite having done all the de-lousing (I was nit free by the way, as was Bubba – score for short crappy haircuts) I am suddenly itchy. Really itchy. My brain has decided imaginary nits are the way to go. Either that, or I reacted to the nit shampoo, which is a fair possibility.

I sent the girls to school today of course, but I feel bad about it. What if I missed a feisty little bugger who starts a class party? They’re only supposed to stay home until treated, but I’m going to feel so bad if a note comes home advising of an outbreak. It wasn’t me, I tried to get them all, I swear I did!

Once again, this evening I get to comb everyone through, and tomorrow night, etc etc, until I’m sure we’re clear. I can barely get the comb through D and Weasel’s stupid long and thick hair. At least D doesn’t cry. This sucks. Where’s a lice eating shoulder monkey when you need one?

A more trusting person might think “aw, how sweet, I’d love to know what’s going on in their lives” and hit accept.

That person would not be me.

Whenever I see a friend request from an ex I immediately translate that into man-code. They don’t send out a friend request because they wonder if your cat is happy. They don’t send out a friend request because they wonder if you got that promotion. They’re sending that request because something in their life has changed recently and they want you to step in and fix it. In my experience, it’s their relationship status changing from ‘married’ to ‘it’s complicated’ and what you should fix is in their pants.

Cynical much? No. Never. I am a paragon of innocence and trust.

See how sad I make people?

Maybe you do want to fix his ‘problem’. Maybe you’ve been just waiting patiently and biding your time. If that’s the case, then he’s not really your ex-boyfriend at all, merely a misplaced-boyfriend, and by all means hit accept and have at it.

Nonetheless, there are still only 2 options. Accept or reject. Technically, there’s also a third option to ignore, but leaving the friend request sitting there until you get lonely enough to accept it doesn’t really count.

Here’s the naked guts of both options.

Accept the ex-boyfriend friend request

• He will see what you’ve been doing.
• He will see who you’ve been doing.
• Your emo updates of “I just can’t find a man” will make him sit back in his chair like the smug bastard he is.
• He will see photos showing how much weight you gained after the breakup.
• Your friends and family will see you accept the friend request and bombard you with “WTF” messages.
• He will immediately commence planning the booty call.

Reject the ex-boyfriend friend request

• If you dumped him last time, you get to do it again. Hit that button with as much ferocity as you like.
• If he dumped you last time, you get to hit the reject button with ferocity and while spewing profanities.
• He must resort to stalking you via old fashioned methods. Nice, illegal, arrestable ones.

Perhaps if you’re really on the fence about it you could add him to the Google+ page you created for the sake of it, and he can spend forever watching and waiting for some activity there.

Are you a heartless bitch too?

First, I enjoyed being force fed a cupcake. Mmmm….Eat it, you’ll like it! Okay, it wasn’t bad, it was just very sweet. I particularly liked the way Weasel gestured to the food as if she was showing off a jet ski on the Price Is Right.

Next, she suggested I come sit on the floor cushions for a hand massage.  *splodge some hand cream first* Ewwww Mummy, I want to my wash my hands!! Oh my, that was a lovely massage.

The next pamper station was my favourite – Weasel actually gave me a massage without demanding one in return. I did however expose my freak nature to the room when she touched my ears though. Just a little bit. I wasn’t covering them up and trying to get away, I was…um…listening to the ocean in an invisible shell…while….dancing….   Moving on!

All ladies love getting a manicure, so I dutifully stepped up to the nail salon and Weasel selected a lovely blood red colour. Now I’m pretty.

Add in a cheerio bracelet and my pampering was complete.

Aw, shucks. It’s nice to be loved.

It’s the scenario every parent dreads. Driving along, singing with the radio (badly), and a little voice from the back pipes up:

“I have to go wees”

Bubba has been out of nappies for what feels like forever, so I was quite confident in telling her to wait until we got to swimming, suggesting she sing along with me while she holds it.

“Mummy, I’m GOING wees”

Sadly, I turned off the radio for that one, and I heard it. Trickling down the plastic of her chair to my fabric car seats.

COME ON! Seriously? You couldn’t wait 3 minutes?

There was nothing I could do, but continue driving, steam coming out my ears at the injustice of it all.

As it happens, this wasn’t an all bad occurrence. Being forced to take her seat out and do the clean up gave me the chance to really examine her seat and the way it fit her.

She’s getting too big. Too big for her seat, and too big for her ‘I can pee anywhere’ britches. Not that I’m holding a grudge or anything.

Since I paid over $400 for her seat, and I don’t feel inclined to do so again, I got to researching and thinking.

What I needed to do was convince Weasel to give up her convertible-booster seat so her little sister could have it, and buy a booster-only seat for Weasel. Off I went to explore the massive Big W Baby Carseat range. This is what I decided on – it meets my requirements of hard plastic shell, comfortable padding, lap sash belt and uses the anchor strap. Perfect for my tall 5yo girl until she turns 7 and no longer legally requires a seat.

Anyone else totally get an ET vibe? Infa-Secure Ventura CS54 Booster Seat $108

Why did I spend so much last time? I’m such a fool. I was all about the brands, despite this seat from Big W scoring considerably higher in the latest CREP safety tests. I could have just bought this and used the savings to buy a piddle mat for Bubba! I am tempted to replace both seats at these prices. I drive a little 3 door car and I worry about not having the safest carseats I can get, especially since the car itself is unlikely to offer much protection against a bigger car – you know, one made of metal or something.

Infa-Secure EHP CS57 Convertible Booster $248

This one would take Bubba all the way through to big kid size, as well as make me feel a lot better about her safety. I’m older and wiser now; when it comes to my kids it’s not about the brand and it’s perception of safeness, I’m all about proven safety, trusted sellers and affordable prices.

Now I’m off to take out the seats again and shampoo my back seat, because I will need to trade the car in at some point, and I heard pee stink is a real turn off for buyers. Go figure.

What’s the worst mess your child has made in your car?
Linking up with IBOT again :)

I only laboured once. I was one of those first time noobs who actually voice the question “how do I know if I’m in labour?” Now I know why it caused such an uproar of laughter. It’s pretty unmistakeable, and completely unlike the movies. Very rarely does your water break, and even if it does, the doctor doesn’t care and nobody rushes you to hospital in a comedic yet charming fashion.

What I remember most about my labour is the end, when sirens went off and people came rushing into the room. I had no idea what that was all about – I actually thought we were being evacuated! Perhaps the gas was working….

Eventually I came to understand the emergency was my baby, who was born with the cord around her neck and unresponsive.

Horrible confession time

Instead of being in a panic about my baby, I was more concerned with myself. I’d left my husband a month before, was homeless and had run away to my parents house, and the next stage of my life hinged on having this baby. What if there was no baby? What if it was all for nothing? What if, after all I’d been through, I had absolutely nothing to show for it and was forced to go back to my old life?

Weasel came through it just fine obviously, but my thoughts in those few moments have stuck with me ever since. So selfish, at a time when the universe once and for all stopped revolving around me. It didn’t take long to forgive myself, but I’ve never forgotten. My very first Bad Mummy moment.

So for today, on Labour Day, here’s a little gift to all women who’ve laboured, whether it’s gone to plan or not.

 What do you remember most about your labour?

I don’t know who decided we should have breakfast in bed though, that’s a bit odd. My kids manage to put enough toast corners and sticky handprints on my sheets already, I don’t think I should be contributing too.

As there is no husband object to go lose his bedroom privileges by buying something daft like an ironing board, I get to buy what I want and the kids just hand it to me. I act surprised.

Sure, they’ll give me the generic school craft gift too, which I will treasure and keep as long as they don’t fall apart or go mouldy.  Truthfully though, I feel much more appreciated when someone gives me a plasma TV. Call me heartless and mercenary, but I hate my birthday and Christmas is about kids, so this is my gift day. Since I’m choosing and buying it myself, I make sure it’s a good one.

So what am I getting this year?

I’m torn between this purple toaster

Only $89 delivered too

Or a new media centre.

Not quite as visually appealing. Should come in purple

Decisions, decisions. I need a new toaster during the day, and a new media centre in the evening so I can ‘watch ma stories’. But then, I could have toast for dinner while watching Grey’s Anatomy. Oh Apple, why have you not integrated basic conveniences into your products? Wonder if they all stand up and clap for small purchases, because that could be the decider. I could use a round of applause.

What are you hinting strongly towards buying yourself  for Mother’s Day?

Ready, set, ramble.

1. Education training and/or experience equivalent to an associate diploma qualification with relevant work related experience.

Quick, look up what an associate diploma qualification is and see if it trumps my degrees. Hurrah, winning already. Oh, but now I have to write more than “Yep, I win on that one”. Hmmm, tricky.

2. Demonstrated commitment to and experience in delivering a high level of customer–focused.

Customer-focused what? I have a commitment to finishing my sentences, do you?

3. Demonstrated written, oral and interpersonal communication skills of a high order, including experience in identifying, understanding and acknowledging customer needs and the ability to respond to customer emails in a prompt, courteous, and professional manner.

Er, I have a blog. It contains many swear words. Might just leave that off the resume for now, and while I’m at it, not mention how socially inept I am. These parts are surprises for later, and everyone loves surprises!

4. Demonstrated knowledge of or demonstrated ability to quickly gain knowledge of,  the broad range rules, policies and procedures at this workplace.

No smoking crack in the lunchroom? I can probably manage that one.

5. Demonstrated experience in the use of information technology and systems such as word processing, spreadsheets, internet applications, financial receipting,  information and database systems.

I’ll just draw a doodle of me cracking my knuckles and leaning back. Geeks rule!

6. Demonstrated ability to function effectively both autonomously and as a member of a team.

Do I have to catch a ball? No, then I can probably not let the team down too much. Just don’t yell at me though, I’ll cry.

7. Sound knowledge of the principles of workplace health and safety from the worker’s perspective with a demonstrated ability to incorporate these principles in day-to-day tasks.

I’ve always told my kids not to leave banana peels on the floor.

I am not procrastinating. You can’t prove that. I have to go buy lemon meringue pie ingredients now. How about I do that, and YOU write my selection criteria for me? Ooh, I might clean out my car too.

How do you procrastinate?