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?!
The kids go to a daycare/preschool where I provide the lunches.
They also have a nut free/egg free policy.
Sometimes it’s hard to make snacks for them.
Dried fruits are easy but something I think my children see them less as the treat they are and more as something to be consumed in great amounts.
So I make these babies
Because I have to make them, obviously they are a treat.
1 cup (ish) dried apricots
2/3 cup desiccated coconut.
Plus extra for rolling in.
About a tablespoon of coconut oil (couldn’t get a nice photo because it’s a friggen tablespoon of oil, okay?)
Chuck it all in a blender or food processor until it looks like this:
Use a Heaped teaspoon and roll it into balls.
Then put the extra coconut in a container and roll the balls in it realise by doing that it doesn’t really stick so gently pick up a small amount with each ball and squeeze it until it sticks to the outside.
Store them in the fridge because then they’ll stay in shape on account of coconut oil solidifying below about 20 degrees celcius.
Store them in a container that is not clear so the kids can’t find the hiding spot
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.
I took Dexter to the shops.
I let him look around and find a toy he fell in love with.
Then, we bought a money box.
I introduced the idea of pocket money for chores and saving toward a goal.
Every letter he completes (as above) gets him 50c
He gets pocket money at the end of the week provided he does his jobs.
He can earn extra by doing other big jobs like cleaning his sister’s room.
Part of me feels like this is bribery.
I’m bribing him with money to do things I want him too. Part of me knows he should probably do some of them anyway without reward because it’s what is expected.
But what is expected isn’t something that this not quite five year old can comprehend.
I certainly think it’s less emotionally damaging than “it makes Mummy happy when you clean your room”
I am also hoping it teaches him the value of work and what he owns because that can be an issue.
What do you think?
Do you give your kids pocket money?
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.
It’s a tough place to be.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Although I can’t turn around without someone telling me how to do it, that’s just not helpful.
It’s always condescending.
Always along the lines of Dex not having special needs, him just needing discipline.
Why would I need help if I could do it right.
Always bring brushed off.
Asking, begging for help because I just don’t want to be a mother right now please just take them for a night
And not hearing anything.
Bringing it up two weeks later when I still just needed one fucking night and being told well I know you’d never actually do anything to hurt them so it doesn’t matter.
Being so distant from your other half you don’t even know who they are or what they like anymore.
Not having a night with them in over 6 months.
Not having a proper conversation other than what bills should be paid or what groceries need buying because you’re either interrupted or just too fucking tired and burned out to do anything else.
Wishing you could change it but just not having the strength.
Wondering if your relationship will survive another year. Month. Week.
Waking up and loving them so so much but dreading having to do the same shit over and over. Feeling so fucking guilty because you’d just like a little break. A little help.
But no one else had help and they had more kids/less time/worked more and they survived.
Why shouldn’t we.
Why can’t I?
I feel like a failure and I just don’t know how to fix it.
I feel like I’m crazy.
Maybe the things I feel aren’t really there.
Maybe I don’t really need help and I’m just imagining it’s this hard.
Because if I really needed it, someone would help, wouldn’t they?