Yes this blog is coming to you live,from my shower
Shower selfie included. I wonder if I tagged shower selfie my stats would go up…
I kid. I don’t even have any make up on, does it even count as a selfie these days?
My point is, being a full time working parent is fucking hard. I’m still trying to get the balance.
And by balance I mean find time to do everything.
And by that I mean I have in the past week written both my meal plan and grocery list in the shower.
And now a blog.
Huzzah for waterproof phones hey! Multitasking at its best.
Look at me I’m getting clean/having precious alone time without children climbing all over me (and by alone time I mean actually just being alone, not the other kind of “alone time”) and being productive.
Certainly that will have brands lining up to work with me yes? No.
But oh well. They don’t want to work with the lady that can blog in her shower, they don’t know what they’re missing.
And also, I am wondering, what would you like me to write about? Other than random shower thoughts because I know you wonder if you are the only person who has considered writing your grocery list in the shower) obviously not).
Last question: do you sit on the floor in the shower too?
I love Sydney. I love the bustle and the busy.
I love it’s honesty. The dirt and the grime next to the brand new.
I love how everything here tries so hard to seem like it is something else but in doing so, you see exactly what it is trying to hide.
Newtown is my favourite.
It is so eclectic and dingy and it is not ashamed of that. It proudly says “you don’t have to like me, but you will know me.”
I love the art. And here, everything is art. Your hair, your skin, your house, your store, your clothes.
I love that last night my friend and I went out at 11:30 at night for dinner and had the most amazing vegetable soup I’ve ever had
I love that the city never sleeps and it is not just the clubs that are awake.
I love the vibrance and feel and community.
Next time I’m going to bring the kids so they can see it too.
Is a quarter year life crisis a thing?
Or maybe a not having any more babies crisis.
Or an almost 10 year reunion in high school crisis.
Or an I don’t know who I am anymore crisis.
I don’t know.
I don’t even know if it is a crisis.
Apart from the body trying to throw almost panic attacks at me for no fucking reason other than I am no longer on blood pressure medication, I think it’s going pretty well.
I mean, I got a full time job. Granted, not the most mentally challenging job in the world but it feels good.
I think people underestimate how good it feels to spend money they’ve earned.
It also feels good to be doing something that has adult conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my kids in a way only a stay at home parent who has gone back to work can but at the same time ohhhh sweet adult conversation.
Oh lunch break. Oh 10 minute rest breaks. Highlights of my days.
Do other parents come out the other side of those baby years (yeah, I thought that meant a full night sleep too, but let me tell you, I was wrong!) and wonder who the fuck they are?
where did everything they enjoyed go?
Who is this person with the boring hair in the pony tail and ugg boots?
To the shops WHAT?!
I mean sure, I have some pretty wicked kids from it.
Wouldn’t trade them even if I have gained forehead wrinkles.
But I also want me.
I’m working on it.
I was actually going to call this post holy fucking shitballs but I didn’t want to be reported on facebook for my language.
So nutcase it is.
In between eating and
ranting on facebook about the load of bullshit the budget is writing to my local MP’s asking what they’re going to do about the effects of the budget on our community, I had a job interview.
And I don’t know if it was my fantastic new jeans or just how completely amazing I
was am, I must have wowed the pants of them because I got the job without them even calling my references.
Except now, holy shit.
All the lunches.
I am now seeing the merit of the sandwiches my mother used to make and freeze in mass amounts because they were easy (and a bit frozen in winter, but hey you can’t have everything)
But worse than that, MY lunches.
I think I’ll end up taking brown rice and flavoured tuna because, well. I’m lazy.
And because I’m lazy I have to be organised.
Or it’s just a shit fight.
also has anyone noticed the amount of swearing is directly related to the amount of anxiety?
I sort of feel like a crazy person for even thinking I can do this.
But I can do this, right?!
So lately I have been feeling clucky.
Everyone around me is having babies.
After much deliberation I decided it’s time to add my brood.
What did I tell you. Clucky.
Left to right we have Flossy, Eryst and Honey.
The kids are smitten.
The girls are a little shy
They will be free range whilst we’re home but they need to be locked up for a little while so they know where home is.
This just makes me want more for my farm.
I had s job interview the other day.
I got asked the usual questions.
What do I know about the company.
What I like related to the product the company sells.
What do I do to placate am angry customer.
What do I believe is good customer service.
What exchange and refund policies have I dealt with before.
What do I want from my life outside of a job?
What do I want for my future.
That one threw me.
I can understand why it is asked – shows a goal. Forethought. Dedication. A certain amount of time the applicant is interested in remaining in the area.
And I answered honestly.
I want a property in Coramba.
I want to have a veggie patch and fruit trees – enough to mostly sustain us. I want a couple cows, some sheep and some chickens. And I want a job I enjoy going to. I know every workplace will have those days where you get a terrible customer but I don’t think work is something that should be a chore.
My last blog was very raw (although I like to think they all are, that was even more so).
I talked to my sister not long after.
About how I was struggling.
About how I miss her.
How I don’t feel in control of my life. How I miss the gym and I can feel myself getting complacent.
And I cried.
Not even ashamed of it.
I’m lucky to have a best friend who is also my sister.
I know not every day is easy.
In fact sometimes they’re fucking hard and I don’t want to be a mother anymore.
I would love to just run. Just sit in silence. Just drink my own drink.
But I love them more.
I love me more.