Moaning Bitch Club. Welcome back.
For the first time in a long time I do not feel like writing.
I have been waking up in the mornings, crawling out of bed, glimpsing in the mirror, admiring my tash, making a mental note to shave it in between all the other pointless mind numbing tasks I have to do, and then ultimately forgetting all about it before turning the kettle on and listening to the Wheels on the Bus Megamix on Channel Addy.
I do not often use pictures in blog posts but as I am unable to pull anything interesting or creative from my dead heart on this occasion, it will be a lot easier and less time consuming for me to just show you what I look like.
This is me.
Is the Tash very obvious?
I worry that the mustache is beginning to take over my face.
I went to Asda like this yesterday, thinking I looked half decent before I realised I only had mascara on one eye, I had four boob syndrome and a roll of muffin top that would make a muffin blush with jealousy.
How do these other ‘bouncy’ mothers do it?
Prancing around Asda in their skinny jeans and their spaghetti stained free tops, Range rover Evoque’s parked outside ready to herd the kids away and pert breasts not only producing 17 pints of milk per child, but also standing mighty fine and all ready for their husbands to caress.
What am I missing?
Other than sleep?
My jeans are only ‘skinny’ because my thighs still rub together in the middle and actually all jeans look ‘skinny’ on me right now and what excuse do I have for my body to have all but given up? I only have one child, age 3.
HE still hasn’t slept through either.
AT WHAT POINT DO THEY START TO DO THAT?
(And is Piriton ok as a long term solution?)
And as for my car, it could double as a skip and if the Irish one even thinks of approaching in a caressing mood I will quite happily take a baseball bat to his testicles.
Yesterday, while Addison was busy screaming in the next room because I cruelly refused to consider dragging the next door neighbours six foot trampoline in to his bedroom, I sat down to take a deep breath and 2 minutes of normality, and noticed a friend of mine posted a status on facebook which made me want to go round her house and smash her windows in.
‘Anybody who describes themselves as a full time mummy needs shooting. Being a mummy is not a job!’
After the steam had stopped shooting from my ears, after I had stomped on a few pieces of lego while muttering all kinds of madness, phoned another friend and screamed ‘smug bitch!!’ a few hundred times, stopped Addison from kicking and screaming at me mid tantrum, by kicking and screaming myself, I removed her from my friend list and decided to wash my hands of her ‘perfect motherness’ crap.
Because once I start to compare myself, it is a downward spiral to the freezer.
And we all know where that ends.
(On that subject, have you tried Ben and Jerry’s caramel core yet??)
I have a job, I have a kid, I have an Irish one with a mild case of the annoying horn and I have a poodle with a loose bowel.
Then I have voices in my head, the self doubt, the medication I keep forgetting to take, a wedding I am failing at organising, a husband to be I am failing at ‘servicing’ and a DOG THAT WON’T STOP CRAPPING ON THE RUG!
Oh and I still have a mustache.
How do these women do it?
TELL ME HOW THEY DO IT!!
I do enjoy it occasionally though.
Especially the Addy classics.
‘Mammy you are so beautiful, just like a mermaid’ he strokes my hair tenderly, ‘but a lot fatter.’
‘Mammy I am gutted that it’s pissing rain.’ (Blame the Irish one.)
In the middle of starbucks, to the man in front of us in the queue;
‘Do you want to see my testicles?’
*And before I get anybody telling me I should be grateful I am a mother and they are bored of hearing mothers moan I will say this. I realise my problems may seem shallow and not like problems at all to some people and actually there are occasions I love being a mother (like when he is asleep) but just because i am a mother does not mean i am NOT ALLOWED TO MOAN ABOUT IT SOMETIMES!!!
Anyone fancy a night out?
Or better still, a week away?
Would somebody please come and shave my Tash?