I stole that line from Sooz.
But basically, the summation of my mindset and mood at the moment is tired, cranky, resentful, frustrated, overwhelmed and worried.
In no particular order.
I am doing my best to ‘just enjoy the moment’.
Truly I am.
And most of the time it works.
But after a small reprieve in the few days between Christmas and New Year when I felt truly relaxed, I am back to that melange of mediocre emotions outlined above.
I am just sick to the hind teeth of doing all the washing, most of the cleaning and certainly ALL of the cooking.
And you all know my love of all things cooking.
But you know, if someone says to me one more time, ‘what’s for lunch’, ‘what’s for dinner’, ‘what can I eat’ I’m going to offer them my own spleen, carpaccio style, with a fair serve of bitter ill-will to wash it all down.
And the washing? And hanging of washing? And bringing-in of washing? And sorting of washing? And putting away of washing?
And the cleaning?
And the fixing of the cushions on the lounge?
And the wiping down of the dining table?
And the nappy changing?
And the constant stream of washing up?
And the filling and emptying of the dishwasher?
Yes, I should be asking Chef for more help.
Yes, I should be calling him to account for the fact that nearly every time I see him he is either at the computer or on the lounge.
Yes, I should be asking him to make dinner.
Yes, I should be asking him if perhaps I COULD HAVE A SLEEP IN AT LEAST ONCE DURING HIS FUCKING TIME OFF WORK.
But you know what?
And don’t think I should have to FUCKING ASK.
Because he knows I am still getting up on average twice a night.
He knows I am running around after us AND mum at the moment.
He knows what is involved in looking after the kids.
And still I find him sitting on the GODDAMN lounge.
And at the moment I feel like rolling around in my own tiredness, anger, resentment and bitterness.
Because I should not have to ask.
On top of that Oscar has a loose tooth which is the equivalent of losing a limb.
I’ve managed to get a banana smoothie into him.
That’s all he’s eaten in a day and a half.
Jasper appears to be dropping his day sleep.
I’m due back at work in a month.
And do not want to be due back at work in a month.
We were meant to be camping in the Victorian High Country at the moment.
But we’re here.
And I’m fed up.
My best friend, K, kept ringing me last week applying the pressure for me and Chef and the boys to get away for a few days this week.
Saying that we needed time to ourselves.
To unwind and be on our own.
Yes, she wanted us to go and visit her.
And YES how I dearly WANT to go and visit her.
And just hang out in her new shiny kitchen over a pot of tea.
While boys be boys and I can play with her daughter’s hair.
But the grief that would come with leaving mum at the moment was simply not worth it.
But now I’m wondering.
As I fester in my own bad mood.
That perhaps it would have been a far better option to be creating all manner of mess at K’s house than our own.