Tick tock

Yeah so I accepted a salary as manager of the poop Café today. Blargh. Does this mean I'm going to get stuck in a lowly comfort zone without ever furthering my career or having more sprogs? I hope not.

Seriously, babies. Whenever I'm in a quiet room I can actually hear my uterus wailing. It's quite a worry, considering how sure I was three years ago that babies weren't for me. Noisy and sticky and confronting is how I saw children. Tiny baby children were sort of ok, as long as they were asleep, but that's it. Now they are all I can think of, and of course the hormones pulsing through me keep saying "Sleepless nights? What sleepless nights? Who needs a social life and disposable incomes anyway?" I hope I can have another baby soon!

I know what's next

So after a week of running said poo café I have decided it isn't for me. I had a run in with the owner/queen of micromanaging yesterday morning after a particularly hard drop off at daycare. I told her after Christmas I'd like to step back from manager and just work a few days a week. I told her I didn't have the support I needed at home to be working full time with a toddler, and that leaving him sobbing at daycare was killing me. I even welled up myself. And you know what she did? She defensively got rude of course. I mean, the woman hasn't even given me my pay rise and I'm letting her off the hook, and she's RUDE? She told me I'm not running the show anyway, hence the lack of a pay rise, and told me I'm on the award because that's all she thinks I'm worth. Bitch be crazeh.

But I'm going to rise above it. It would be pretty handy to keep the job, because when she isn't there it's a nice simple job that would be good for some pocket money. So I won't get into how she's a clueless yuppy way out of her depth, or how I've been running the 'show' for three months without appropriate pay because I was promised a proper salary was coming. Nah, it's all good. Because today I got reminded of something in the ever amazing Edenland's blog; I am exactly where God wants me. I've already figured out what I'm going to do next. So sucka ma balls Café de Books!

Sunday night

Tomorrow is my first day as the boss of the pooey cafe I spend my days at. I've been running the place for months anyway, but tomorrow it's all on me and I am stressed. I don't doubt my ability to do the job, just my desire. It's so easy to get depressed and bogged down in the shitty day to day that is my life. I want to be more creative, but who has the time? I want to be with my son more, but who has the time? When I'm at home with him I'm cranky and stressed and doing the laundry. Ugggh more than anything though, I'm sick of being so sorry for myself. Got. To. Sort. This. Shit. Out!

Peace out bitches

SUNDOODEEDAY

I'm seedy as heck and have lots of untamed ramblings going through my head right now. It's been a long weekend. Here they are:

-five people slept in my bed last night. None of them were me. I slept in the spare bed next to Rick's mate.
-I got blind on vodka these past two nights, yet I'm still here nursing one now. Drinking problem shminking shmoblem.
-Linda is going to be pissed when photos of last night end up on facebook and she realises I had the party without her.
-I would give my left nut (if I had one) to miss work tomorrow. Holla!
-And finally, I got steel wool or something stuck in my pinky today and it's stinging like a mofo, yeowch!

It's been sooo long, sooo long do da do

Dear blog,

sorry I haven't been utilizing you lately. You see, I think my brain imploded a few weeks back, and since then every time I think about you I feel too overwhelmed/tired/fat to put words together. I still feel too tired to put words together. When I melted my brain I hurried to a doctor I'd carefully sought out (the nice one who reassured me when Axel had his first asthma attack) and I poured out my problems to her. I think I cried a bit, then panicked that she might think I was hamming it up for drugs. Alas, she gave me drugs. A magical pill called Cymbalta, which made me deathly nauseaus for a few weeks but generally calm. I've noticed since beginning the drug around four weeks ago that I no longer scream at the dog, or pick stupid fights with the hubster. Everything seems to be going well for us lately. Oh yeah, the evil eeeevil sister in law/she devil up and moved out one day while we were at work! Right after I started the antidepressants, so maybe they are actually a placebo and her absense is what made the world right again? If that's the case I'll be pretty pissed because they are NOT cheap.

After not hearing from evil cow face for a few weeks, unforunately she has opened up her hell gates and rained abuse on me recently. They are coming in the form of facebook wall posts, texts, phone calls and messages through my father in law (who doesn't need much encouragement to hate on me). But you know what? I couldn't care less. She is choosing me to hate because she is a) jealous of my awesome life, b) in need of a reason why Rick hates her boyfriend, or c) because she is dumb. Regardless, I know I didn't do anything to provoke her and I am actually pretty relieved she isn't in my life any more.

Other than that, life is as dull as my writing. The most exciting thing that has happened around here in the last few hours was just then when the dog farted in front of the heater and it blew into my face. For a second I thought someone was bringing take away mexican to my door, wrong! Today I found out that my boss's sleaze bag boyfriend cheated on her with one of the girls from work's best mate. He is so frustratingly stupid and gross, not to mention the fact that they are expecting a wee baby soon. Ah well, not my problem (and I kind of wish I didn't know... but and again it is juicy goss). Also, bossy face hates me at the moment because I have been offered her job - which I will kick arse at because I am amazing.

Well, that's the shiz.

Humpday indeed, from behind

Groooaaan it's Wednesday again already? That must mean I was woken up way too early to watch a way too sooky princess and my green eyed toddler. Wednesday is normally pay day but the public holiday on Monday took care of that for me, meaning I am stressing over four unpaid (and now overdue) bills. I don't have two car seats or a double pram today so I'm a prisoner until 6pm. I've already dealt with a plethora of fights, tears and tantrums this morning (some my own). Basically I hate today already and it's only 9:30.

Yesterday Ricko and I were both home with the two kids, and it gave me a chance to convince him of how stressed I am without his sister being able to butt in. It is now pretty clear to me that he's just as stressed, and I'm glad he took me seriously enough to approach her about it. He sent her a text at work simply saying "When will you be moving out? It's been 8 weeks and you haven't said anything so we need to know". When she got home she asked who sent it (I was busy cleaning the bathroom but she knew I was listening) and proceeded to get her knickers in a knot about the whole thing. She said "I told Amy it would be around five weeks and that I'd pay rent in a few weeks" which is flat out untrue - the rent bit isn't but the time frame bit is. Then she went on to say it's only been five weeks and if it's a problem she'll move out as soon as she can even though she has no money and has no way of paying a bond or rent in a house. Basically it was a big self involved sorry fest in which the only thing we said (I joined in eventually) was that she isn't being asked to leave, we just want to be kept informed. What I really wanted to say is this:

Lady, it's been NINE weeks and FOUR days since you came with bags of your stuff and moved into our spare room. You have since come and gone as you please, spending up to five days away at one point. That doesn't mean you get to count the time you're here; your crap is taking up our space so that counts. In these NINE weeks and FOUR days you have paid exactly nothing in rent. You have brought home a cooked chook to share one time for dinner, and on two other occasions made your own dinner. Every other night of your living here you've happily eaten our home cooked meals. You use our laundry for your cloth nappies, and after asking several times that you soak them in a bucket of antibacterial solution first it's actually taken us supplying you with the bucket and napisan for you to do it. I shouldn't be surprised seeing as I supply your laundry powder and softner anyway. I am surprised that you still don't soak them properly. Every time I use my own washing machine I gag at the stench.

Then there's the other stuff; the small stuff that could've been easily discussed and diffused but instead has been left to fester into full blown war-causing issues. The dog that's in my back yard doing giant poos and barking all day and night. The birds that are in my spare room that have made the entire first level of the house smell (except for the laundry, as mentioned it smells like poo of the human variety). The baby that we agreed to watch for a fortnight on our days off that we're now stuck with indefinately. I mean really, who does this sort of thing to their own family? Who moves in and brings unmentioned pets and doesn't pay for a single thing and expects you to babysit their kid without discussing it? And if they really did all that, would they really think it's their place to insist you use cloth nappies on their baby for them?

REALLY?

I am losing my fucking mind.

I am going to see a doctor on Thursday because I really feel like I have lost the ability to be happy. It should never have come to this. I would never treat anyone like this.

Saturday Night doo de doo de doo

Woah man blogger is confusing me. So anyway, I'm lazy and haven't blogged for yonks which is actually why I came to blogger in the first place. My lj blog was getting hectic and every time I felt like blogging the feeling would immediately get swallowed up by not wanting to blog.

So this is where I'm at: my sister in law (Rdog's sister) has moved in with us and it is stressing me out. I knew it was stressing me out when I yelled at her 10 month old daughter last week while babysitting, and I've pretty much gone down hill from there. I mean, who yells at a baby?? The fact that I was babysitting at all I think is good reason to be stressing, and couple that with the fact that she hasn't paid rent (EVER) and her stupid dog is here teaching my well-behaved darling dog to bark at everything that moves I think we have sufficient reason.

Anyway, in the last few days I've realised this 'stress' is getting out of hand. Basically, I'm depressed. I know I'm one of those weak-arse sooky lala people who's totally prone to the sobs, but this is really bad. That black dog is right here humping my leg this week, and I feel like every time I fake a smile to please my partner I'm screaming a bit louder on the inside. So on Tuesday I'm taking the plunge and seeing a doctor. I've never really met a doctor on the public health care payroll in Brisbane that I'm confident in, but what the hell. I feel like I'm out of sad control and soon I'm going to drive my wonderful partner away. He has battled depression himself and I get frustrated with his lack of understanding and compassion, but I think he's really fearful of it. I know he just wants me to get better, even if he can't hold my hand while I do it.

So, that's it. Hasn't this been rivetting?

About me me me me me

Ok that was a pretty pathetic first post. Here's a nice self-indulgant list of stuff about me!

• since starting this post I've had to get up and take the dog food dish off my son's head
• I have a dog who almost never gets walked because she is too strong for me
• I love Pearl Jam
• My highschool friends called me Fatty, now people call me Ames and it's no where near as good
• My partner is a chef, and so out of pressure to please him in the kitchen I have begun the challenge of learning to cook. Last night he dubbed me Fritatta Queen, shit yeah!
• I consider myself the best driver ever
• My 16 month old kid is so totally awesome
• I work casually in a cafe/book shop which was plenty satisfying until my dad shot me down
• I am aiming to get back to uni this year (this semester, hurry up woman and get your shit together) to complete a diploma of education, thus branding me Teacher Queen also
• Since starting this post my son has removed his cloth nappy and whizzed on the rug

So... I guess I better clean that up.

I'm kind of new around here

So I just decided to switch to Blogger because my previous blog was giving me the shits. I felt a bit weighed down by it, even though it was full of mostly nothing. Whinging about my son or my in laws or my crappy job, you know, the usual. So here's a nice fresh untainted blog to whinge about my son and my inlaws and my crappy job all over.

I love blogs. It is so self involved to sit here and talk about my crap to you, the faceless person who may or may not read it. I intend on being no-holds-barred but overall I really don't have much going on. I have a gorgeous 19 month old kid, he's rad. I have a decent bloke who puts up with my shit (and who gives me enough shit to put up with to keep me interested) and we live in a fairly shabby house in an excellent suburb in Brisbane, because that's what you do. We were pretty lucky to pick it up in our price range just over a year ago, because right now total piles of steaming crap are going for 50 k more than we paid in our very street. I work in a book shop/café hybrid, but hopefully not for ever and ever. I used to be a kick arse restaurant manager before our surprise baby came along, and was happy to kiss up to people for the awesome money for ever (and ever) but now I'm intent on becoming a teacher. I hear the holidays are pretty good. I have one year left of study, but starting that one year up again is the tricky part.

So, here's my new blog. I decided Blogger because there's quite a few Blogger blogs on my favourites list. Come back here and be my friend if you like to read about people bitching and moaning about their stuff. I love you already?