I confess to feeling like a cranky old buzzard who just wants to stamp around the house muttering ‘motherfucker’, ‘shithole’, ‘cunt’, ‘bastard’, and any other swear word I can dream up, any slam a few doors while I’m at it.

For no other reason than being a tired cranky old buzzard.
I confess to having an overwhelming urge to have a cigarette and get absolutely off-my-trolley drunk. Preferably on martinis, but a Cosmopolitan would be equally good, or even some Piper Heidsiech champagne.
I confess to being a strict old-fashioned parent of late, pulling the boys up on the slightest of behaviour glitches.
I confess that to mark a very big moment for Felix, we bought him Star Wars Lego for the Xbox.

I HATE the Xbox.
The Xbox brings out the worst of the cranky old buzzard.
And that I then had an epiphany.
I hate the boys playing Xbox (it is a very very rare event until the arrival of Star Wars Lego).
I am one of those people who thinks Xbox, Play Station etc are major contributors to the downfall of civilisation.
I hate the parent it makes me.
Then I realised – who is the adult around here?
So I sat the boys down, said I didn’t like computer or video games, and that while they may play them on Daddy’s watch, there will be no Xbox on Mummy’s.
They just shrugged, went “OK”, and got a few books for us to sit on the lounge and read together.
Then I read to them in bed and watched as their eyes got heavier and heavier and finally closed.

And didn’t feel like swearing quite so much.
I confess to being a COMPLETE IDIOT for not organising to take tomorrow off and have another 4-day weekend (for those of you overseas, Tuesday is a public holiday here for ANZAC day).

I love her writing and until yesterday felt a connection with her in the whole – oh my god – working and baby = hard.
Then she went and fucking resigned.
And is so friggin’ talented, well-connected, popular – that she is going it alone and will – without a doubt – be hugely successful and subsequently rich.
This has pissed me off. I know I have no place to be pissed off. At all.
But I freelanced and basically sucked at it.
Because I am, at my very core, inherently lazy.
So when it came to pitching for new business or selling myself to prospective clients, I would sooner have gone to mother’s group with the boys, eaten too many pieces of a crappy walnut custard loaf from Bakers Delight and left to be home in time to watch Dr Phil and Oprah.
So I ended up working on shitty projects or good projects for bully-bosses and being very very very poor.
Which was a very large contributor to my fast slide to madness.
So really, what I’m confessing, is to being really very lazy and wanting the life of celebrity.
Inexplicable desire to be violent
For some bizarre reason, I have a real urge to hit something. Not someone. But to do something hard and punishing – like a boxing class or something, where I can just pummel the shit out of something, sweat a lot and maybe scream a bit.
Insert swearing here
And Bec – who said you could go away for a few days??? Just because you work like a packhorse doesn’t mean you then get to go frolic in the meadow for a few days.
I’m tired, and going to bed.

And yes, I can hear you all thanking the Lord for such small mercies.

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