#devilchildren

We all love a good morning routine right? We rise quietly, bleary-eyed but excited about the potential of a new day, stumble out in to the rising sun and greet the songbirds as they sing in the new dawn.

Ha ha fucking ha.

Today I am lucky I got to school before the first bell – as it was it was lucky I didn’t run over the girls as they lined up for assembly as I sped in to the grounds much MUCH later than I intended to be on this bloody Monday morning.

I get up in the morning in a good mood. Pretty much every day without fail. It’s one of my most annoying habits. But I have spawned offspring that do not. And the GD has his own ‘routine’ that may or may not involve the rest of us depending on whether he has decided that he is in a terrific hurry that morning or not.

On days that I don’t boot-camp or run – more frequent in my old age than I’d readily admit – I get up and feed the pets, put the coffee on and I go through and wake the rest of the house. The 6 yr old gets up immediately with me and I/we make him breakfast; I go through multiple times to the bedroom and remind the 9 yr old that he needs to get up, all the while finding their clothes and shoes for the day and ‘laying them out’ for them like they are fucking little princes or some shit. The 6 yr old clings like a limpet and will often follow me through the house with his cereal or toast in hand all the while leaving a trail of food for the dog to follow. The dog loves him for this – who doesn’t appreciate a second breakfast?

Once they are up and getting dressed I make their lunches and put a piece of toast in for me. (I haven’t had coffee yet – I like to have my coffee WITH my breakfast). Then, before I get to my toast I find something that the 9 yr old will deign to eat – he is very anti breakfast – and help the 6 yr old get dressed because apparently he ‘can’t’ by himself.

Then I find my toast – if I’m not there to witness it pop my toaster flings it high in the air and it can land anywhere – and sit down to have breakfast and my first cup of coffee with the 9 yr old (who is often in the other room sulking because I haven’t found him the right tee shirt/ shorts/ shoes and he won’t eat with the food I have made on pain of death).

Then just as I am finishing up and getting ready to shower the GD will come through and announce he is getting in the shower. This is the beginning of the end.

You see, the GD’s routine consists roughly of getting up, making coffee/pouring his cup and going outside with it to have a cigarette (which actually means staring at his phone for twenty minutes), then if no one is nagging him to do otherwise (read: me asking him to either feed the animals or children etc) he comes inside and goes and sits on the toilet for half an hour (he’s staring on his phone there too), then he comes in and showers, dresses and comes in to the kitchen to announce that he’s in a terrible hurry because the motorway is ‘crazy’ and he doesn’t want to be late. Then he just leaves. Just like that, He fucking leaves with no fighting and no one screaming about their shoes or anything – it’s a fucking miracle.

Naturally at all points in his routine I am doing my damnedest to disrupt his happy little meandering, and this all comes off as me badgering him because if I can get in the shower first it will dramatically change the morning for all.

If I can get in the shower first then the GD has nothing to do while he waits so he can in fact, make sure the little Dutchmen have their shoes on, their school bags packed and are not killing each-other as they wait for me to be ready to take them to school. On these mornings we leave much closer to 7.30, have a pleasant ride to school, and I get to school before eight am with my waking morning sunshine-y ass intact.

But mostly lately, even on days that I boot camp because usually the routine starts the same way once I get home (only we’re now 45 mins behind so that’s fun) we have the shitshow that was this morning. ONCE everyone else is ready to go, and the GD is out of the shower and walking out the door – because he’s going to be so late remember?, Then it is finally my turn to start getting ready.

Now, it should be relatively simple in fact for this to happen, I shower, I get dressed, we get in the car and leave. Simple.

But as it turns out, once the #devilchildren are ready to go to school they can’t actually be trusted alone together because that’s when they go in to full hellion mode. I can bargain with them, bribe them, threaten them – or even, in an attempt to be positive, remind them of ‘that one time they played nicely together while they waited and then we all drove to school together cheerfully and it was wonderful?’ but to no avail.

Today the water wasn’t even running before the screaming started. The youngest child has a shriek that is piercing no matter how far away you are and I feel it physically. I can’t ablute with the door shut – too dangerous to not be within earshot – so it was but a matter of seconds before I had both of them in the bathroom with me listing the others crimes and trying to drown the other out with sheer volume. Banished separately – one to their (shared) room with the other to the lounge didn’t work because one’s toys were in the others time out zone and he swiftly set about breaking as many as them as possible much to the horror of his offsider who started screaming profanities that would have made a pirate blush.

Cut to me standing naked in the lounge (in full view of any neighbour who wanted to be put off their breakfast) pointing dramatically down the hallway and shouting that ‘EVERYONE IS FUCKING WALKING TO SCHOOL AND I DON’T CARE HOW LONG IT TAKES FOR YOU TO GET THERE!’.

I finally showered with the 6 yr old sobbing piteously outside the glass, the 9 yr old in his bed refusing to come out (blankets over his head and blinds drawn – shades of his teen years I fear) all the while cursing my beloveds name.

We all sulked on the way to school. No mindless chatter about whatever is in the 6 yr olds head (I’ll give you a clue – it’s usually poo) or any deeper (more worrying) questions from the 9 yr old like ‘WHY did the Americans vote in Trump and does this mean all the black people are going to be shot now?’ for example.

I drove to school feeling guilty for getting so mad and hoping that they wouldn’t have a shite day at school as a result of our bloody awful morning.*

There are ways to mitigate this madness. If I break the ‘no screens before school’ rule they will stare like zombies at their chosen screen while I shower and dress and get myself in the car – but as soon as I turn the screens off so begins the 20 minute meltdown over putting a pair of shoes on because the flickering blue lights have taken away their ability to determine between a reasonable request i.e. put your shoes on and get in the car and that tantamount to pain and torture and endless suffering.

Some mornings I get home from boot camp and run to the shower while no one is looking and issue instructions from inside my watery haven. Those are good mornings.

And if I have to be fair, and godamnit the GD reads this so I have to be, some mornings he has fed one of the children by the time I get back and might have started a lunchbox or two before he sees me and skedaddles. To be fair he goes in the opposite direction of the kids school so dropping them off doesn’t make sense. But I’m not in the mood to be fair and it’s not that part that fucks with me.

It’s the way he just GOES. ‘Oops I’m going to be late!’ he sings out gaily and runs out the door. As if somehow me being late to work every single fucking day isn’t as bad as if he was ten minutes later. Don’t forget that I stop on the way with the kids too, and although I basically slow down, kiss them and drop them off, more often that not lately I have to get out and walk them in because they are so tired and sad about mornings (normal end of term stuff). This adds a good fifteen minutes to an already to-long routine.

I know this is end of term stuff and everyone is exhausted. And I know that some people will be reading this and thinking WHY don’t they make their lunches the night before, and foster more independence in their children to make their own breakfasts and all that happy helpful shit that I would mutter under my breath too. And I do mutter that shit under my breath at me. But tbh at the moment I am hanging out until JUST AFTER my kids have hit their pillows before I collapse in to mine. Our routines go to hell when we’re tired and that’s just the sucky, sticky reality of it.

Just the freedom of being able to leave when I’m ready like that. The miracle of it. I’m always reminded of this bit by Michael Mcintyre about Leaving the House.

Little do the #littledutchmen know that I have plans to ride my bike to my new job next year. I wonder if that means the GD will be dropping them off and I can just leave when I’m ready? Huh.

*They had a great day and all of the mornings dramas were forgotten in minutes as soon as they saw their friends of course, it was just Mummy who thought about it all day and felt like shite. Happy lads upon afternoon pick up. Because I knew you were wondering.

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Mid winter resolutions

I have a new doctor. This is significant because I have limped along with a series of absolutely USELESS doctors for the last four years – different every time – in an effort to stay with my clinic which was highly recommended because it is holistic. In an effort to find balance and health care that wasn’t too toxic and blah blah blah my cringing hipster self put up with sub-par health care, lazy disinterested locums and EXTREMELY high fees. (think $145 for 20 minutes one time!).

What finally made my mind up to leave was my last email exchange, with a new receptionist where I tried to book a long overdue appt (my fault not theirs) and they needed to charge me double because it was all new Docs since I was last there and it would be like an ‘initial consultation’.  I should have left the last time I got bloods and they didn’t bother to send me my results until I finally asked for them weeks later. I should have left the millions of times I said to various doctors that I was having issues – visible issues – with my skin, unexplained constant weight gain, stomach pain etc all since going gluten free – and all they did was tell me not eat yet another thing. I should have left when they took my kids off the books because they hadn’t been in in a while (and been able to charge us money) I’m sorry my kids are generally healthy. AND – you guessed it – it would have cost another enrolling fee to get them back on. So I finally did.

And my new doctor is great! In half an hour she did more for me – asked more questions and gave me more explanations – than I’ve had in years at the old place and I finally feel like there might be light on the horizon! Wahay!

So, I’m all revved up and raring to go (sort of, I mean I bathed and napped on Tuesday and nothing else and I have no guilt whatsoever) I am heading out there and running again (3 times this week plus boot camp so there), I’ve quit sugar (again) and am quitting booze (again) AFTER my grrl visits to help me celebrate tattoo finishing session on Saturday. Again, again, again. But you know – with the twin pronged approach with the Doc helping me medically I might actually see results this time! Instead of denying myself ALL THE GOOD THINGS and still feeling crappy which was my downfall last year. And I will try to blog too. Not just about the boring self-centered woe is me coeliac stuff but also about my sub-par parenting and fashion fails. You love it.

Now all I have to do is get through the last few days of the hell of school holidays (my youngest has not raised his voice above a whine in DAYS and this Mamabear is ready to snap) and settle back in to school and maintain good habits. Wish me luck!

312 The end of an era

Well. It’s official. I have two school age children. This time 5 years ago I was settling into a cocoon on the couch with my newborn and my GD hovering nearby. It was so much easier with the second one (the breastfeeding and not thinking we were going to drop him or anything) and we came straight home from the hospital all ready to settle in to being a two child family. Someone had at some point told me that two was easier than one because they entertain each other or some shit. They were lying of course. I wish I could remember who it was…

Anyway, my youngest son is now officially 5. I won’t lie and say it was all very breezy easy in this little household this morning. Mamabear was a bit ‘happy sad’ and had a little crazy smiling cry whenever I thought about my baby being a big boy now. He doesn’t start school yet – has to wait for the intake – but the school visits have been rubbing it in. I am now the mother of two school age children.

Which kinda changes my ‘selfie’ in my head. Somehow it feels that much older. I mean obviously I knew that eventually I would get to that point – but in my daydreams I go from having ‘togglers’ (the 5 yr old can’t say toddlers yet) to teenagers in one step. Rather than experience the slow decline I transform magically from vaguely-stylish-young-mum to eccentric-but-doesn’t-care older mum of teens – you know the ones – the ones with the house that all the kids hang out at, they dispense advice and feed them all and always have one or two of their kids mates staying for indefinite lengths of time.

I hadn’t thought about the ‘in-between years’ and the transition period from young to eccentric. Where all my cool pre-children-clothes are covered in sticky hand prints, my heels replaced with chucks for running after evil eight year olds and the laundry couch mocks me from the once safe haven of the TV lounge.

The good news is that I look around me and I see other women around about my age going through the same thing and they seem to be doing it ok. I’ve even met a couple of really cool women in the last few weeks and that gives me hope. I don’t need new friends – god knows I neglect my wonderful,patient friends enough already – I don’t need more people to be absent from; but obviously it can be done.

#midlifecrisismuch?

284 – First day of Term 4

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The first thing I did when I got to work today was to ring our local primary school to re-schedule my appointment to enrol our youngest son. We got the letter last term and I opened it and thought ‘Heaps of time, will think about that later’ and then suddenly it was later.  The school holidays were kinda like that. I had looked forward to them for so long – approximately 10 weeks of longing – and had made so many plans, and before I knew it they were over.

I always have a list of stuff I want to do in the holidays – sew, bake, op-shop, catch up with all my friends, sleep, read, visit the art gallery, spend quality time with my kids, ride my bike and generally have a life outside of school. It’s good to have goals. Even if you have no hope in hell of achieving them.

I DID manage to sleep a bit extra, get some marking done and sort some stuff for school. I managed to go for a couple of good runs, eat well mostly and me and the kids didn’t kill each-other. I am sad we didn’t manage to bike ride because the weather was beautiful but master 4 has requested that we ‘learn him’ to bike ride on the weekend so we are closer to getting back out there soon.

But inevitably I blinked and suddenly it was Monday and I was getting up at sparrows fart for work and hustling the kids out of bed and in to clothes.

Bam. Gone.

Kind of like my days as a parent of pre-schoolers. How did I get so old that both of my children are primary school aged? My eldest already talks like a teenager and I have to bribe him with internet access to get him to do anything. And now my little lad is starting school. He turns five in a month and he is SO ready. It is SO weird.

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255 – Mama bears unite

I’m watching a nature doco about polar bears with the smallest child. The mother polar bear is trying to secure a meal for her cubs by stalking a nearby sea lion. She tells the cubs to stay on the ice and sets off stealthily to get the seal. She lowers herself backwards in to the water so as not to make a splash – something unusual says the narrator – she is an intelligent and cunning predator. She emerges far enough away to sight the sea lion and plan her attack. She sinks below the surface and heads towards her sleeping target. It has no idea it is about to be the evening meal.

Meanwhile her cubs have gotten restless. They are wrestling in the background. One of them realises that Mum is out of sight and starts to follow – disobeying Mums orders to stay put. Soon both babies are following Mum. Mum sinks below the surface and they panic. Both stumble clumsily in to the water after her.

The sea lion is alerted by the noise and dives in to the water getting away without much effort. Mum emerges baffled at exactly the right spot to find no sea lion. You can see her swearing in polar bear as she looks around and realises her kids have fucked it up for her. Again.

I have a lot of empathy for Mama bear today.

We started off ok. Mum+Son run around the neighbourhood in the grey dawn light. Chocolate smoothies for everyone on our return – yay! The GD went to work (sucks to be working on the weekend poor him) and I resolved to do some house work with the two lads in tow. Oh how naive I am. You’d think I would know by now – after all I have known these kids all their lives. We had a hell of a day.

I decided to deal with the mountains of washing that had piled up around the house like driftwood after a particularly violent storm. Mostly to avoid the dishes to be honest. I took the computer away from the lads and banned them from torturing the fur children and they settled in to LEGO land heaven. For about half an hour. The rest of the day was the reason that Mummy wants to drink.

One of my children makes noise ALL OF THE TIME. While I am writing this he is sitting on the couch supposedly watching the Polar bear documentary but actually he is just making noise. Humming and wriggling and throwing things and kicking and singing and just generally making FUCKING NOISE ALL DAY. He has followed me around making noise at me all day. Add to this his brothers unerring talent of winding him up and you get short sharp tearful fights as well.

More than once I have shouted. I have tried bribing them with a walk to get ice-cream – which of course they tried to claim when the job was not even vaguely attempted let alone finished. I have made grand sweeping threats ‘If you don’t do this I will lock you out the back until your father gets home’ ‘You will NEVER be allowed to have friends over again’ ‘DO YOU WANT TO GO LIVE AT THE NAUGHTY BOYS HOME?’. They know such a place doesn’t exist.

They don’t fear me. All day we battled.

And I folded washing, I hung washing up to dry, I sorted the ‘special’ pile in my room (you know – where you put your favourites that you have on high rotation?). I even sorted out two bags of clothes and bags and sunnies to go and live somewhere else. I folded and sorted and folded and sorted. And I shouted and bribed and cuddled and wiped tears off faces and inspected war wounds.

I had to stop writing because the youngest was leaping on and off the couch (after being asked multiple times not to of course) and he had banged his shin quite badly on the edge fo the couch. Cue many tears.

I actually can’t wait for work tomorrow.

That’s a lie but I am having fantasies of running away for the weekend. I would even take the grumpy Dutchman with me if he promised to put away his LEGO the first time he was asked and left me to go to the toilet in peace.

254 – I actually WENT for a run!

Not on Thursday morning as planned. Oh no. I slept in that day. And. it. was. good. But last night I went to bed at 7.30pm. Yes that’s right. I am a big Nana-pants and I actually went to bed before my children last night. In fact the youngest spied me in bed and I had to barricade myself in and refuse entry otherwise I would have had yet another night of NO sleep.

Thursday night I was pushed out of bed by the three Dutchmen and went to the couch where I thought I might get some sleep. It was not to be so. Apparently my body is exactly the right place to stage an all out cat war if you need to. All night baby-cat was launching attacks on Mollycat and Mollycat was growling like a fucking doberman. It was also the night the heavens opened right over our house. Rain, children and cats – I’m sorry Mummy did you want to sleep? Really?

Anyway, an early bedtime last night proved to be exactly what I needed to leap out of bed this morning to run around the neighbourhood with my two lads – one furry the other on a bike. It was REALLY Good! It was so nice to be running along chattering with my little lad, talking about nothing and everything, him complaining about the cold (He needs ‘glubs’ tomorrow morning) and my knee lasting the distance ok.  – hopefully we will go again.

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The rest of the day has gone well too. I took the lads plus one to the zoo to meet with a friend and her two little people and we had a lovely stroll following the kids around – what an amazing day! Cold but sunny – Spring is coming!

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So apart from an emergency trip up to Orewa this evening to see Nana (I got the call that she was threatening to self -harm but she had just run out of chocolate and was panicking – I’ve got to take after someone!) It has been a really good day.

I feel like I am on track for my new short and long term goals. They are a whole new post on their own though, stay tuned…

202

Remember that I said we were going to get the lads tested for Coeliacs in the holidays? We took them in to the lab in the first week and I went too, I was getting a general WOF and the lads were being checked to see if they had the raised levels indicative of Coeliacs disease.

All week I had been talking my eldest through the blood test, the reason for it and what would happen if A. he gave a positive result and B. if it came back negative. He has been the one of the two lads who we suspect – if either of them would have Coeliacs disease – it would be him. It is something that runs in families – you either have the gene or not and he seems to take after my side of the family with other physical characteristics – also he never seems quite right after a pizza or heavy carby wheaty food. But I could be reading in to it too because I’m hyper sensitive. Whatever – this is why we want them tested – to be sure.

Long story short – our youngest submitted to the blood test – albeit reluctantly – but he still did it. My poor eldest couldn’t make himself be brave enough – and he really tried poor kid. He tried to go first and set a good example but couldn’t, then he watched as his brother did it and tried again but couldn’t let the nurse put the needle in. Fair enough. It is scary when you are only young and as a rule he tends to make stuff like this massive in his head. We soothed him and cuddled him and said ‘no big deal, we’ll try again another time’ and eventually he stopped feeling shamed and was ok. We still have the form and he knows we need to do it so I remind him occasionally. Oops – that turned in to the long version. Sorry!

So, results thus far? Well our 4.5 yr old does NOT have Coeliacs! yay.

And it turns out, that after a term of not being very kind to myself and eating whatever the bloody hell I could get my hands on – not only am I carrying a little sugar belly around with me (I’m not even looking at my thighs these days tbh) but also all of my iron levels and vitamin B and all the rest have gone to shite again. Which makes sense as I am dragging myself round like an old lady at the moment.

As if I didn’t need any more motivation to get back on track. It’s a good reminder that I was doing what I was doing for a purpose – not just to torture myself – and that eating this way does actually have a physical effect. Not just the invisible gut healing stuff that seemed negligible in terms of how I felt.

So – Good news about the littlest lad and good motivation for me. Things I am grateful for.

198 – I’m not dead

Yes, it’s been ten days since my last post – partly because I’ve been avoiding you and partly because it’s been school holidays and I just kinda let everything slide…

So, how to begin – to catch you up or just fill in the gaps? Well you don’t need the minutiae of my days and frankly they are only interesting to me and mine – you know what school holidays with bored kids are like – you swing from moments of hysterical joy (oh my god the zoo for the third time I’m SO EXCITED! We have zoo passes – they are seriously the best xmas gift ever) to moments of pure hell (OH MY GOD WHY ARE WE AT THE ZOO AGAIN?!). The kids are randomly best friends and mortal enemies and those of us that normally work but have the pleasure of being at home with our little cherubs begin to remember and appreciate why we work in the first place.

The middle of the year holidays are extra special in our house because of all the birthdays. Mine, my Stepdad’s, my Mums and my eldest son (Mum and T are on the same day). This means that the grumpy Dutchman is extra grumpy and stressed because of the gift buying, the family time is extra intense and at some point I have to plan and run a birthday event for the child. Also this time round the Aussie Dutchies are here so it’s been cool to meet my youngest niece and hang with them briefly. Suffice to say that though I don’t tend to feel ‘rested’ at the end of the winter break.

Anyway – why have I been avoiding you? Did you notice that? Well. You know how I’m a stubborn biatch and I have been struggling with the sugar and shite? But really proud that I had managed to not drink? Sooooooo. This is awkward.

I’m just gonna come out and say it. I had a glass of wine (or two) on my birthday. Because it was MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY damnit and I was feeling old. I know. I know. But the plan that I had to go to a beach with the GD and the dog to watch the sunset didn’t pan out because I spent so long on the motorway driving home from dropping the lads off to be babysat. And there is less sugar in red wine that birthday cake. And all sorts of other bloody justifications. And because wine is so damned good.

I spent all day thinking about it. Swinging wildly between NO because I didn’t want to break my record and YES because it’s MY BIRTHDAY. I chose yes.

It was very nice to be out with the GD on an actual date (thanks Mum) just hanging out with each-other. We managed to not talk about the kids for ages. I was managing to keep the GD interested in me and not the bookshelf behind me (only just). So I had a grown up glass of wine and it was lovely.

And then I woke up in the morning and felt terrible. Not only did I have a headache from the wine that I’m not used to but I just felt so disappointed that I had broken the record. That I had let it go after 7 months of abstaining. And how was I going to blog about it!? The horror. I whinged to the GD and my bff and both told me to pull my head in; reminded me that I’m not an alcoholic and that the not-drinking was self imposed (that I’d broken every other self-imposed rule) and that I was a grown up who could celebrate her birthday like a bloody grown up. That was me told. So I stayed in bed watching Grace and Frankie until lunchtime (the kids were at Mums after all) and tried to get over myself.

I still feel a wee bit disappointed. I won’t be able to proudly boast ‘not for the whole YEAR’ now and sit back all smug when people look AMAZED at my fortitude but I am learning to live with it. Ha ha what a dick.

The holidays have been great though for family time and outdoorsy pursuits. I had a good go at being sugar-free for the first week and was dealing with the headaches and loading up on lots of veges like a good girl but tbh we knew that was going to go out the window for my birthday didn’t we? Am back on that wagon now though. As of tomorrow. I promise. Obvs no more wine too. I managed to go to school and get some much-needed marking done in between hanging with lads, and I have been getting my 10 – 12,000 steps in most days.

I still don’t feel that prepared for school though. I have that sick feeling in my stomach thinking about it. But that’s normal right? The plan is to food shop tomorrow for all the good stuff. To plan my lessons for the first three days of the week and to pack my lunches so I’m prepared for the sugar cravings.

Well laid plans. Here are some holiday pics,

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168

I’ve had three nights in a row of this;

How to get a better nights sleep

It’s amazing how many knees and elbows two small boys have. And the HEAT they generate! Neither sleeps with the blanket on them, they kick it off constantly, and because I have to be in the middle or they fight I end up freezing. Or swimming in a pool of sweat because they are pressed up against me like little human heaters. Either way I am AWAKE. ALL night.

Because the youngest child is waking up so early at the moment – like seriously early – he sits up at 4am and I have to talk him back to sleep because otherwise he gets up to watch DVD’s – he is falling asleep on the couch by about 6pm. And because he’s going to sleep on the couch at about 6pm – he’s waking up really early – like 4am. It’s a vicious circle.

I spend all night taking lads to the loo, throwing fighting cats out of the room and trying to go to sleep in different spots (like the couch or the bottom bunk or the foot of the bed longways) but the boys have this sixth sense where they can pinpoint the EXACT moment when I am just beginning to fall asleep again and they appear beside me asking to climb in to where I have moved to. Mostly I am already awake when the youngest wakes up at 4am.

I am incapable of coherent thought. It’s like someone filled my head with pink fluffies. All I can do is obsess about Miss Crabb pants and coffee.

Seriously how cool are these pants?

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Doesn’t matter. I can’t afford them. But you know what they say. Actually I can’t remember what they say because my brain is not braining. But I do know that’s its Friday tomorrow. Fuck yeah.

166 – default position

Are you the default too? Do you know what I mean?

Example; This weekend there was an event that the grumpy Dutchman and I had planned to go to together. We were quite excited about going out together for the first time in a long time. I had my outfit all planned out and everything (totes most important bit) and I had practised in my head saying ‘No I’m not pregnant, just not drinking’ and sneaking out for coffee as I got more tired (because I am a Nana and past 9pm is waaaaaay late for me). But our babysitters (The GD’s folks) couldn’t do it for us in the end and we couldn’t afford both a babysitter and the gig. (you feel my pain I know you do). Sad face.

Should have been the end of it right? Stink buzz we can’t go out. Damned kids ruining our social lives all the time.

But somehow…. The GD went to the gig anyway. Because the fact that WE couldn’t get a babysitter didn’t mean that WE didn’t have to stay home apparently. Somehow all it meant was that I couldn’t go out because I needed to be at home with the little Dutchmen. And that sucks balls. Now, the GD will justify his attending the event to you if you ask him about it by saying that he had volunteered to be the pizza boy for the bands so he needed to go. Which, you know, is bullshit because pizza places have their own delivery boys to do that for them…

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And to add insult to injury I had to cook dinner for the children too, and like, parent them and shit. Grumpy mockingbirdgrrl.

It reminds me of when the kids were babies and I was the ‘default holder of the babies’. I distinctly remember this one time needing to go to the toilet when holding baby – so I handed baby to the GD and went to the bathroom – the GD followed me to the bathroom and stood there while I weed and waited to hand baby back. I realise that I had the boobs – you couldn’t miss them I was like a dairy cow – but I also needed to not hold babies for a few hours a day and this wasn’t really a thing. I think too that this is the norm for most Mums.

Don’t get me wrong – It’s not like the GD doesn’t do ‘his fair share’. And ‘his fair share’ is such a bullshit term because he parents his children. He does it well and he does it more than me during the week because I work longer hours usually. It’s not an issue of equality at all in our house. But I still don’t like being the default.

I been mithering on it since Saturday night. I was SO looking forward to going out, and I was SO disappointed that I didn’t get to go but that he did. Right now the most social I get is boot camp. Between family on the weekends and work in the evenings and it getting darker earlier I feel quite hemmed in. I need a movie date or something. A reason to wear some of my fabulous shoes ha ha

Anyway. Now that I’ve had a whinge I can get over it.

Which will be good news to all the boys in the house!