That's one thing about me. I'm consistently late, with everything. I'm late to work, late to lunches, late to dinners. I'm the person that's flying through the door to an appointment I've known about for weeks and the friend that is never reliable to be at that place we agreed to meet at that specific time. I like to think of it as "always late but worth the wait!" It's not my fault I swear, I've always been late my whole life. And no matter how early I wake up, or how early I leave the house or how prepared I am the night before I'm just always late.. Its something I have just gotten worse with (or better at, depending how you look at it) since having my son. No matter how hard I try, just getting from inside the house and into the car of a morning takes half an hour. I have no idea where the time goes in that half an hour and what one would think would be such a simple task, getting oneself and a 2.5 year old into the car in a mere 10 metre walk, proves time and time again to be a constant battle against the clock. It's something I'm working on, its been a work in progress for almost 25 years now, but I will get there one day.
About the only thing I have ever been early for is my due date for Cooper (my sons) birth. And that couldn't have come quick enough! I remember begging the Obstetrician to 'cut this blood-sucking monster out of me' somewhere around the 12 week mark. That was right at the point where it felt like I'd endured a lifetime of staring at the white porcelain of my toilet bowl and not being able to keep down one little tiny insignificant crumb of food. The stupid thing was I actually wanted it! I did it to myself and there was no turning back. Ok I obviously didn't do "it" to myself with some immaculate conception thing - but you get my drift! Luckily the morning sickness stopped and for a week or two I was actually enjoying being pregnant. Hell yeh I can do this! Nek minnit (sorry, had to do it!) you develop that awkward tummy where people are thinking "she's either put on weight or she is totes up the duff". Thanks to my father, most of Townsville already knew I was expecting. He announced it to the world when I was only 5 weeks. It was like 4TO broadcast it in their hourly news read. Thanks JG. Anyway, back to the part where your stomach gets bigger and you don't fit anything. Cue hormones. And wow maternity clothes suck! Someone needs to sort that to aid in decreasing the amount of hormonal bitches from mentally breaking down every time they try to find an outfit to fit over the ever-growing bump. That bump that literally sucks the life out of you while its in there and for the next 2.5 years (that's all I'm up to I'm sure it lasts until they leave home) the least they could do is invent something decent and not ridiculously over-priced to dress in!
Anyway continuing on with pregnancy, next came the nightmares, the sciatica pain, the middle-of-the-night cramps and the indigestion. Yay for being pregnant! Damn you Miranda Kerr and Giselle Bundchen (thats spelt wrong I know) for tricking every man and woman with-out child into thinking that pregnancy is glamorous. (Thanks to Fergie I can spell that word no problems!) Don't get me wrong. I love being a mum. My boy means the world to me and I can't imagine ever being without him. Its nice to give him up for a night or two to let my hair down, but I miss him crazy when he is gone.
So in closing, I wanted to create this blog to deliver a some-what humorous insight into life with kids. Its probably going to step well and truly over the lines of whats appropriate and whats not. Its also probably going to ruffle a few feathers, but it's me and it's my take on mother-hood. If you don't like it don't read it. I don't want people to comment and pass judgement on my abilities as a person and a mother. The intention is to make light of what seems like impossible situations and hopefully bring some enjoyment to the people reading it. Every day is a learning experience with children, for both them and us, and if one person out there can appreciate and empathise with my experiences and laugh about it then my mission is complete.
Finally, (I'm almost done I swear) just a note to child services incase they were planning on knocking on my door. I'm not the worlds worst mum, I'm sure there is way worse than me. I love my kid, he gets chocolate when he's good, and when I need him to shut up for 5 mins. I try my hardest to do the best for him even if that means he survives off chicken nuggets and chips, or macaroni and cheese (easy mac) for dinners (thats all he will eat!). And sometimes he might not go to bed till 8.30pm because it takes me that long to get my shit together. But I love him and he is alive and healthy and happy. I think I must be doing something right there.
Until next time, a little e-card that I'm sure most of my mumma friends can appreciate!
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