I guess I heart my body a bit

So here's the thing. I have read the other entries and I love the message of I Heart My Body 2011. I think the job We Heart Life are doing is fantastic. But what can I say? I am as critical of my body as I was when puberty first struck, if not much, much more. But I want to try and put this out there anyway. I'm winging it, internet.

Here is me at the smallest I have been as an adult. The top picture was around the time I conceived my son, and the bottom when I was 8 weeks pregnant. I wouldn't take that damn shirt off to go swimming. I was 47kg! Man, those were tough times. I was dealing with my share of difficult times, and really thought I needed to lose some weight. I was unhappy in my studies at uni, in my job as a restaurant manager, and my relationship with my [now] husband had ended very, very badly. I was a total mess and the only way I could feel like I had any control at all was to control my body. I wasn't particularly iron-fisted on what I'd put into my mouth but I was a poor uni student so if I only had enough for food or wine, well take a guess which one I'd sacrifice? Couple that with working my body as hard as I could both at work and after when I would undertake massive late night cross-Brisbane treks just to occupy my mind.

Welp, fast forward three years and I have never managed to lost my baby weight much to the relief of my husband and family. But it is so difficult for me to bare when I feel like I am drowning in my own body some times. I am a pretty healthy 65kg which is on the top end of my BMI as a 162cm lassy. For months leading up to my wedding this July I stressed and starved. I ran and consumed diet shakes and cut out fun from my life. I lost absolutely nothing. After the wedding I relaxed my diet and just stuck to a few good runs a week and my body has stayed exactly the same. So I guess where I'm going is; this is me and I can muster up a bit of love for it. *ahem* ok, I heart my body:

Supergirl undies of course

To be honest, I still can't face the front on ones. Hubster and I have decided to add to our family and hope to have good news to share sooner rather than later. That's the best part of my body - it can make babies! You should see the one carried already! 

Today's Lesson

Today's lesson is to be grateful for what you have. It can be difficult, and I am a classic hot-headed virgo so I know better than some. Today, for example, I decided to brave the heat and bundle Axel into the car for a spot of op-shopping, only to have the damn stupid unreliable piece of poo break down ages away from home. It was hot, child was edgy, husband was very busy at work and thus unhappy to be pulled away to deal with dumb car. We were both hot-headed by the time he got the car running (and the op shop had closed). Throw in a trip to woolies with aforementioned edgy child and a touch of arriving home to find the dog had pulled the clean clothes of the line - again - and you have yourself a pretty wild mama. 


Then I got home, stripped off, gave Axel chocolate biscuits to buy myself ten minutes worth of peace, poured myself a beer and logged onto facebook. The very first story to pop up on my feed was a post from my half sister. She'd updated her blog, which is a journal she is keeping to track her Multiple Sclerosis. It isn't great news, and my heart aches for her. I was going to post a link but it's a tricky situation. I don't know my half sisters (from my dad's first marriage) all that well and am actually just glad they've added me on facebook. I feel helpless, so I had to write it down some way, wave a flag for her. I feel such a strong affection for this woman who I hardly know, and am scared for her health but also for the knowledge I am privy to without any support or connection. We got into contact just before her diagnosis last Christmas, and things have been very up-and-down for her, not just with her health but with other things as well (can you say Brisbane floods?).  I can't imagine what she must be going through, but I am trying to, just so I will stop being such a whiny bitch when something doesn't go my way. 


Nyeh. Anyway, as I was saying: be grateful for what you have, because there are people out there who don't have the luxury of a healthy working nervous system or brain. You are so lucky! 

Master Axel

I did something drastic this evening.. I'm not sure how my husband is going to take it when he gets home.

Before:

After:

Husbter and I have had heaps of heated debates about what to do with Axel's golden locks. He has had two haircuts already which were both tidy-up trims, but he seems to have inherited mum's ability to grow hair at an enviable speed. The first time we got his hair cut we were so shocked at how grown up he looked we decided to let him be a hippy kid a la celebrity children. 

Exhibit A

Exhibit B              Exhibit C

Lately Axel has been asking for a spiky hair cut like his uncle (who's a regular number 1 with the clippers kind of guy). Today there were big red warning signs all over Axel's daycare center alerting a recent outbreak of nits *shudder* which set in stone the events that followed. I'm not worried about how old he looks, or how hubster will react to that aspect; this kid came to me the other night with his bed time pull ups we call 'special undies' and demanded to know why he has to wear nappies. "Oh no those aren't nappies, they're big boy... nap ... pies" and every night since he has worn his trusty Lightening McQueen undies to bed without hassle. Our kid is such a big boy now and we are chuffed. 

The problemo numero uno is that my husband demanded that the next hair cut be in the form of a mullet. Yeah. This came up before we got married, and I still went ahead and locked myself down with the guy. A father willing to, nay insisting upon inflicting his own son with the embarrassment of having a mullet post 1982. We'll see if that ever happens while I still have a pulse.

What day is it?

I quit my job the other day, after getting my knickers in a knot about the late pay issue. On the day I quit my pay was two weeks late; I think that warrants leaving a shitty casual cafe job if you ask me. The boss there is quite a hard arse so it shocked me when he got upset and asked me to reconsider. He sent his sidekick (best friend, in charge of accounts and wages) in just before I left to suss out why I was leaving. I copped out and mumbled a load about personal circumstance/stress/distance to travel because I don't like confrontation and I don't like to be mean. What I meant was not only the dicking around with my pay, but with the other supervisor there who happens to have just began a relationship with the boss. As far as I have seen since I arrived, she only came clean about sleeping with him so she could cop out on work, and has not lifted a finger since. The unfairness of it got to be too much to bare. 


If I am going to just be a waitress and barista, I am going to put my back in to it and work hard to be the best waitress and barista. I am pretty modest with most things, but I actually am the best waitress and barista. It's my way of trying to block out the fact that I have no career. So having said that, I am pretty pleased that they offered me more money, more power, full time hours, less hours, any hours I want. But I'm pretty sure I can't go back. Even with the anxiety of not having income to pay the bills after this week, I feel soooo much more relaxed. I threw my resume around the morning before I quit, and have had a healthy stream of interviews and offers so I'm not too worried. I'm just going to work on putting positive energy out there for the time being and trust that things will fall into place nicely.


The other niggling thought I have about work is that maybe I should happily stay hating my job so that I have more urgency to get back to study in 2012. But on the flipside, isn't 2012 the end of the world? Not sure if I want to spend it with my face in a text book... 

Cop out Friday

Today, much like last Friday, has been punishing.

Tonight, much like last Friday, means buying greasy fish and chips from the angry German down the road because I CBF'd cooking. (Side- he is such a jerk! I wish his food didn't taste so damn good. Tonight when I asked for extra seasoning he stared blankly at me, so I reiterated 'extra salt?' which must of offended him because I'll be damned if I could spot a single grain of salt in the whole package).

This week, much like the last two weeks, my pay is late. This week it is actually much later in that it didn't arrive at all. I'm so angry that all I can do is breath in, breath out, and repeat. Woozah.

I am struggling to find happy, normal Amy inside myself. I know she's there and I am making an extra effort to pull her to the surface, but it's difficult. Sarcastic, negative Amy likes to have the full floor, ya know? It'll all work out, that I know for sure, but I hope it hurries on up.

Now, time for wine and NOT washing up. Friday nights mean bath wars with my kid, so over and out.

Dark days

I thought I had depression all worked out. The curtains were drawn and the windows opened in my head and it was light and airy. I guess I got too cocky.

It's been a tricky week. The frustrating part is I can read the symptoms - stress, difficulty sleeping, lax in exercise - but I can't read the cause. I have no idea why I feel the way I do. Well, I have ideas as to what causes a few symptoms, but I'll be damned if I can differentiate between this week and the 'good' weeks. So I hate my job, who doesn't? So my kid wakes me up too early in the morning, who's doesn't? Why is this week special? Why do I suddenly become this horrible, erratic emotional volcano erupting on my wonderful husband and son? 

I don't know the answer, but I do know that this has me shaking in my boots. Maybe I'm not okay after all.

10 Things You Didn't Need To Know

I got tagged by Robyn at Slightly More Depth Than a Teaspoon (squeal, someone tagged me!) so here is the top ten things you didn't know about me, all of which you probably don't want or need to know.

1. I am a little bit crazy, but it's ok because so is my husband so if he ever tries to pigeon hole me I can break out the mirror.

2. I am a dog lover, but secretly a cat person. I have shown my husband tiny little hints about this and he hasn't taken it well so I'm officially in the closet about this one. This is my baby kitty Ninja who was forced to live with my grandma and change her name to Sparkles.

 

3. I am lactose intolerant and tentatively diagnosed as gluten intolerant as well.

4. I am majorly stubborn; therefore number 3 is effectively ignored 100% if the time. As a result I can often be heard moaning "why am does my belly hurt and my skin welt after every bowl of cereal/cheese sandwich/ice-cream cone? Boohoo". 

5. My husband thinks I was a hippie in a past life. I have lefty views and I believe in the old ditty "if it's yellow, let it mellow - if it's brown, flush it down". 

6. The TV is on 98% of the day when we are home. It upsets me a lot but we have a tiny house and huge tv; the ratio of tv to house is about 1:2. It's very hard to have it off. It's like a family member, we can't ignore it! Last night I implemented a NO TV AT DINNER TIME rule, which my  husband quickly deviated to TV ON MUTE AT DINNER TIME, and I'm still annoyed about it. It drives me nuts that Axel can turn the TV on in the mornings before we get up, and we let him because it buys us 30 minutes in bed. Bad parenting! Stupid TV. 

7. I hate feet. Gross, man.

8. I have elaborate daydreams about all sorts of weird things, like alternate lives that I return to when I'm exercising or having sex. It's not like I am unhappy with what I've got - not at all! - but my pretend lives have lots going on. (In my defense, refer to 1.) 

9. I have this weird recurring dream of being on a beach and getting washed away by a giant wave. The circumstance - location, day or night, size of the wave, who I'm with, what I try to do - change endlessly, but the outcome is always the same. I've had this dream since primary school. 

10. I have a bit of a thing for Karl Stefanovic... And that concludes 10 weird things you didn't want to know about me.

I can't believe I am blogging about the weather

It is as hot as balls today.

One of the things I like about living in Brisbane, QLD is the weather; not northern enough to be too tropical, but still perfect beach/pool/water-fight weather in the warmer months, and not southern enough to really suck in the colder months. But it is only mid-September and today is hot. As balls. It's going to be 30 degrees tomorrow, which would be good if I wasn't working (and if my boss wasn't such a tight-arse with the airconditioner). I'm going to seize this warm turn and take my kiddy to the Southbank beach in the coming days, and in fact I'm going to make sure we appreciate the Southbank beach much more this summer as it was nearly gone forever after the floods.

Another reason I like living in my city is the close proximity to the ocean; 30 minutes in any easterly direction should land me at a nice body of water, and I'm digging the ocean this lifetime. I love it. I dream about it. I am convinced that I was a sailor or a fisherman in a previous life and I dream of the day when I can own a boat. It's going to be a very good hobbie because my husband won't get on it. Sorry husband, but you can be a turd sometimes and when I own my boat it is going to prove useful when we need to get out of eachother's faces. You can go off and play with the car.

So that's what's going on in my head on this sweaty day. Seriously, my thighs are starting to chafe just from swinging on this chair while I type. You're welcome!

Well, I'm all good. How are you?

Today is R U OK day, an initiative set up in 2009 to create national awareness for mental health; in particular depression and suicide. This year it is touching very close to home after the recent suicide death of a good friend's young husband. He didn't have the conversation that could've saved his life. 


Depression and suicide are unfortunately well known in my family. I remember vividly the afternoon that I found out my mum's eldest brother had taken his life; I was eight years old and chucked the shits when my brother came to my friend's house down the road to tell me to go home. I was meant to be having a sleep over and was not happy. I ran into the kitchen to start complaining to my mother but stopped in my tracks when I saw her face. She did not have an easy upbringing and her brother stepped in as parent when my grandmother wasn't there. Seeing how his death had shattered my mother has had a deep and lasting effect on me. Earlier that same year my parents' house burnt to the ground leaving us with nothing. It was a difficult time and my mum had to shoulder the burden of depression on her own for many years.


When my son was born I found myself battling with a little more that 'the baby blues'. I went to a very dark place before my husband finally tweaked and took me to a good doctor. I went on antidepressants for a little while, and wrote about that unpleasant experience here. Now I have this lovely little bottle to keep me level, and I could not be happier with it. I realize it might not be the answer for everyone who has battled depression, but I am so thankful that I gave it a try. A huge bonus is the fact that at $12 for a bottle of 60, it is a fraction of the cost of Cymbalta (which used to cos me around $50 a month), but the best part is it's all natural and isn't messing around with my body.

Bad shit happens, I know my tale isn't extraordinary. But that's the scary part; we all go through trials in our lives and this year 65,000 Australians will contemplate or attempt to take their life as a way out. It's a big number, and while I sit in my home today I find myself feeling overwhelmed. When my friend's husband took his life she put his picture onto a facebook page called Putting A Face On Suicide. I thought it was a worthwhile sentiment and liked the page, but had to hide that sucker after many teary visits to my news feed. 


This is a big issue, and more needs to be done. Mental illness is stigmatized in this country when it should be viewed the same as a physical illness. We need to treat our mental health with the same level of importance as we do our bodies; we put time in at the gym to look good so why can't we put the same effort into our mental well being? I feel very small with this issue, but today I will do what I can and open my eyes to the people around me. You should too.

It's my birthday and I'll be the BOSS if I want to

Birthday spoils 

It's my birthday today, so I've compiled a list of things that everyone needs to know about being the Birthday Boss. It's already 7:45pm, so sadly it's a little late for my family to reform for this year, but don't worry because I'll personally stick this post on the fridge for next year. 

Birthday Boss Rules

• The Birthday Boss does not have to meet with undesirables today. That may or may not include in laws who want to 'pop in for a cuppa'
• Birthday Boss should not have to prepare dinner, nor should they have the pressure put upon them to decide where to dine out
• If you take Birthday Boss somewhere crap for dinner, they are well within their rights to complain, even if you gave them the option of choosing the venue and they declined
• If any small people should require assistance in bum-wiping, it is undeniably NOT the Birthday Boss's burden to bare today
• In the unfortunate circumstance where the Birthday Boss has to work on their special day, it is of utmost importance that you give appropriate attention and sympathy to their weary bodies at the end of the day. Foot rubs aren't out
• 'But it's my birthday' is basically the all-access veto to any and every chore; baths to be run, stories to be read, dishes to be done. It's only one day of the year, and if the Birthday Boss happens to be a mum, you know damn well she has to do this crap 364 other days this year

That about covers it. 

I had a pretty decent birthday, but with a little help raising awareness about these important rules I think we can improve. And just in time for me to turn a quarter of a century in '12.

My evil genius clever guy turned three last week, and I thought it was about time I got some stuff down for him to refer to in the future. I may or may not have watched The Notebook the other day, and may or may not be 100% convinced I'm going to succumb to Old Timer's one day. (Don't google the symptoms if you want to have an ordinary life free from paranoia.) 

So Axel, listen up! Here are some of mamma's tips on life, the universe and everything:

• I know you really dig those Hotwheels cars, but baby they are sharp. Stop hiding them in the shag pile rug.
• Your 10 month old cousin is not a turtle, so please stop trying to create her shell. She spends two days a week with us now, and you sure know how to stir her up just enough to make it look like you haven't done anything and she's a crazy baby.
• I know about the stash of lollies in the bottom of your cupboard, I just haven't moved them yet because I like the peace and quiet they afford me when I'm blogging (see, I'm blogging).
• I am so, so proud of your toilet achievements. I haven't had to buy nappies for a whole month! But we really have to get a better system going for when you need help with number 2s. I'm not sure what the bank guy thought last week when he was visiting and heard "MUM, WIPE MY BUM PLEASE!" echoing down the hall.
• Oh, and on the subject of number 2s; kangarooing my toilet? Your dad's mates used to do that when they visited, but I sorted them out... I don't think I'm legally allowed to do the same to you, but I will think of something if this keeps up:   

All that said, I am pretty peachy keen on having you around. I like the tricks you do; in particular the one where you pick the worst time to come and kiss the top of my head. You humble me kid. 

Stay cool x mum

I've lost my marbles. I've gone loopy, lost the plot. The kids are currently swimming in a lounge room sea of toys, toast and clean laundry that was folded ready to be put away. I am so sick and tired of hearing my own voice that I've given up on trying to direct traffic this morning. I am battling a shitty cold and most probably a chronic case of PMS and as if that isn't enough; we are out of coffee.

It has occurred to me in the past that maybe I put a little too much pressure on myself. I recently quit my full time job because working 50 + hours and keeping up with the circus of being a wife, mother, housekeeper, cook, cleaner, laundromat, dog walker and groomer etc. etc. was turning me into a balding, babbling idiot. The icing on the mamma-guilt cake was that Axel suddenly started begging not to go to daycare. So I waited until it was financially viable for us as a household and quit my job. I took an awesome month off (annual leave, I love you) and enjoyed the wedding of my dreams and a honeymoon period that went beyond just ten days in Bali. Lots of spending and eating and drinking. Naturally as soon as we got back to normal I've taken on more work than was originally planned, including two days of babysitting my baby niece. That means I'm working seven days a week. Oops.

So something has to give, and today it's.. well, everything. Axel has been yelling at me for this whole post because he said PEANUT BUTTER NOT JAM on his toast. Tilly was chewing the computer cords for much of this post but I got up a moment ago and put her in her highchair with a scone to chew on. She is staring daggers at me; maybe she doesn't like date scones. I would normally be raging about the laundry because if there is one motherfucking chore I hate to do it's fold laundry, but today I am choosing to ignore it. Future Amy's problem. At some point I will have to tend to the children again, but for now it's me time, suckers.

Things that shit me today

In no particular order, here are the things that shit me today.

• Washing the giant white dog, then watching as he breaks the lead and runs over to the compost area
• Headache for no foreseeable reason
• Disgusting mess on my veranda thanks to drunken fools last night, particularly the smoke butts as no one that lives here smokes 
• The butcher who hit on me this morning; the first few times it was flattering but now it's just awkward and annoying and not even worth the fifty cents he takes off the dog bones
• Stupid white chef jackets that I have to launder and iron that NEVER stay white
• Chuggington. I hate your stupid song, just shut your face
• My pay is three days late and I could really use that money for food and fuel and bills thanks

Argh. Stupid woman bitching about first world problems. It's one of those days. 

Lucky Ones

I could've slept in for ever today. I am tired enough for it, and my little guy is spending some quality time with my in laws. My little sister is in town so we joined hubster and a few of his friends at the local for some drinks and dance-like-no-one's-judging fun last night. But I was sitting bolt upright this morning at the familiar time of 6:30 wondering why there wasn't a little warm body with cold feet trying to steal all the blankets. Last night (possibly the wee hours of this morning) when we returned with greasy McDonalds in hand we saw the news that a man has been charged with the murder of Daniel Morcombe, a 14 year old boy who was abducted not far from where I live in 2003. For eight years his parents have waited for answers, for closure. And now they have it, as police search through bushland on the Sunshine Coast today for his remains. Can you imagine eight years of not knowing what happened to your child? My heart has been aching for his parents this morning, as they have to face what their minds would have known for a while now, but what their hearts weren't prepared to believe.

So I could've slept in forever, heck I could be in bed right now with not a single annoying husband or needy toddler in sight. But instead I'm sitting by the window waiting for Axel to get home safely so I can squeeze his little head.

Bad Mama

I just went ballistic at Axel. He was being a rat bag but it was a bit off kilter. The slightest thing is setting me off lately. And I'm sick and moody. Either this is the world's worst PMS or I'm a genuine crazy lady now.

I have my 9 month old niece here today and she has been testing my strength as well. Always with the crying and needing assistance and supervision. Why can't kids just be like adults!? She is asleep now and it was Axel's screeching and whooping that made me angry before. If he wakes her up prematurely I might just cry.

Last night I snuck out of the house to watch a show at Brisbane Powerhouse. It was so nice to get out, but I felt ripped off when one of the trio of Post was replaced by a dude because she's off having a baby. It's not excuse I tell you! She's meant to be a she. Not a he in a wig. The show was followed by a trip down memory lane; to the Pancake Manor on Charlotte St. The old church fills me with nostalgia of my younger, singler days. I don't miss it as such, but it was nice to go and sit and chat to old friends until the wee hours. The pancakes have changed (how disappointment) but the company hasn't.

Now for a giant cup of coffee.

Plans

Today did not go as planned.

The plan wasn't set in stone or too important, but it mostly centered around cleaning up the unknown pubes and spews left in my bathroom thanks to the impromptu house party here on Thursday night. It wasn't my doing; I was at work when it began and it ended pretty swiftly when I got home. Friends of ours got married on Thursday at the registry office, and had nothing better planned so ended up raiding my liquor cabinet that night while I worked my butt off. Thanks to working all day yesterday, the place was still a total shitfight this morning. And still is now.

This morning during his nap I noticed Axel making weird noises. I went and checked on him to find him virtually choking on his enlarged tonsils. Sooo it was off to the emergency ward where we waited to see a doctor. And waited, and waited, for four hours. The most frustrating part is when we finally got in [to see an excellent pediatrician] there was no better news than to send us on our way with a referral that is expected to take around four months. Thanks Queensland Health system! I hope my kid doesn't die while you're sorting your shit out. It is the kick in the pants we need to get off our butts and buy private health insurance, with the only problem being the money to get it. Ah well, maybe less parties.

Anyway, as Saturday winds to a close I am sitting here nursing a strong drink. I am meant to be at work and Axel with his uncle for the night, but seeing as I had to call in sick I kept him home anyway. He is eating a sandwich for dinner because the meal planned was for the slow cooker, and being home is a requirement when using a slow cooker. The house is a mess, the dogs haven't had any attention or exercise and the laundry basket doth overflow. Whatever, there's always tomorrow.

I keep forgetting to be a blogger

So July was a busy month! I finished up at my job, got married, went to Bali, came back to find my son has fully transformed into an evil genius and my bank account has been emptied. Woohoo!

July Debrief Commence!

Quitting my job (as I mentioned already) was scary shizzle, but I am so relieved to be rid of that place. I popped in the other day after not seeing it for a month and had several customers ask me when I was coming back. Oh they loves them some Amy! Most of my staff have jumped ship, and the remaining two original staff members look pretty miserable. It's not nice to enjoy that sort of thing is it? But maybe now the owners will appreciate my work... not likely.

Then we got married! I had to leave my last day of work early to drive down to the bay to have a rehearsal with the celebrant. It was freezing cold and blowing a gale. The celebrant declared we wouldn't be able to marry outside. I was devastated and made her promise to wait and see what the weather would be like in a few days. The night before the wedding we spontaneously met up with family and friends for dinner. It was the most fun I've had in ages and I am so thankful that it worked out so well. The next morning it was cold and dreary with misty rain. I decided there was no point in wallowing and stayed positive. By midday it was bright, sunny and still. Perfect! The wedding went ahead perfectly, with the only drama being that one of the cars didn't show and we had to be ferried in the same car to the reception, making me a very late bride. But that's the point right?

Bali was um... a culture shock. It was definitely an interesting experience. I don't think I could ever learn to be comfortable with being a rich person in a poor country. The desperation and despair was incredibly unnerving, and the pressure to buy, spend, eat, drink. You buy, you buy!? Women would grab my hand as I walked through alleys and when I pulled free they'd yell abuse in Indonesian. The porters at the airport demanded we opened our bags, then charged us $20 to get to out; we'd been warned about grifting but when it's your first time in an international airport you get a bit freaked. One night in Seminyak a man dressed as a policeman popped up behind a fence in a dark yard and asked me if I wanted to come and smoke the reefer with him. I'm pretty sure that's a one way ticket to extortion. Overall, I appreciated the beauty of the place and the amazing food, but I'm not sure if I'd have the balls to return.

We are home now and back to work. Routine is difficult to manage now thanks to my son suddenly testing our every last bit of patience, but I'll break him. He turns three in under a month. That'll be a magic number right? Perfectly behaved children start at 3, right?

A big day

I just quit my job.

I just walked in there with a very polite and professional letter, hid it among some other mail and slinked on out. Rick says that's unprofessional, but so is treating your manager like crap.

I am still shaking a wee bit. I just quit my freakin job! I sure did like that weekly wage! For the past two years I've been managing a little café + bookshop business, originally for a couple of ultra hip 30-somethings with better things to do, and recently for the younger Taiwanese couple who just bought it. I have so much love for the place but have been starting to realise how difficult it is to distinguish between love and comfort. The relationship between me and the new owners has been on the decline for a little while; it is crystal clear to me that they want to run the place on their own but have legal obligations to keep me. After reaching near-breaking point with them a month ago, and coupled with the fact that my toddler son is not enjoying daycare, I decided to lump it.

I just quit my damn job, oh man.

I had a trial at a cute little organic-only café today, because you know, money is a necessary evil. They dug me and I dug them, so I'm starting when I get back from my honeymoon. Only for a few days a week so I can watch my niece while my sister-in-law [the good one] is at uni, and so I can spend more time with my baby boy. You know the one; the guy who was eight months old when I went back to work, who can now suddenly do ones and twos in the toilet for days on end without accidents. Yeah, that cool guy.

I am so sorry I didn't quit this stinkin' job sooner kid.

Three weeks to go dun dun dunnnn

Three weeks from today I will be getting married! Pretty freakin' excited. There are a tonne of things to do still; find a replacement photographer for the butt-face one that backed out, find a band because all of a sudden one month out Rick decides it is necessary after all (!!), and last but not least find my sister a freakin bridesmaid dress. Things certainly haven't gone to plan, but I'm mostly filled with excitement nerves instead of stress nerves.

I haven't really touched on the ex-bridesmaid issue too much here, but lets just say while losing a bridesmaid a few weeks out from a wedding isn't ideal, I am so relieved. It was a case of asking the wrong person to be a bridesmaid, and it only got worse when a bunch of lies she told came out and cemented our status as EX friends. I was so sure I knew her; we'd been friends for almost three years and I knew her family, she used to hang out with us and babysit our son and introduce us to boyfriends. But somewhere in the last 6 months she began to change and drift away from all of us (mutual friends included). In the end she showed a nasty and immature side of herself that I had no idea existed. Her sister (who I was naive enough to consider a friend as well) was meant to be our photographer, so it was a bit of a double whammy. I actually approached her gently and asked her if she'd mind if I made my sister a bm instead of her and she was fine with it; even a little cold in saying "I don't know why you didn't do that in the first place". The fall out was a few days later when I discovered she had lied about being at uni for the last semester just to get the days off she wanted at work. I always thought we were friends first, boss and employee second. But a friend wouldn't lie about something as huge as quitting uni. In the end I guess I gauged it all wrong and were never friends at all. When we fell out she sent some horrible texts and threw it all over facebook about how I was a crap friend and all she did was try and make me like her... it didn't make sense to me at all but I'm not going to play into that school-girl stuff. Just accept it and move on I say!

I am pretty proud of my new grown up self.

So now I have to find a dress for sisterino, and seeing as the original dresses are black with a white sash I think i'll just let her go for something black and she feels good in and add the detail. No point stressing! I'm getting married in three weeks!

Negatives. Positives. Stevie Nicks?

Saturday has been good to me. I slept in til 8:30 this morning (with a prelude of toddler goodness at 6:30) and had a decent percentage of mama-son play time within the day. I have watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory three times today. My laundry is done and dusted for the entire week including ironing! That is a huge deal for me, and made possible thanks to a sick day on Friday.

Friday was big.

I went to the fricking dentist on Friday. For the first time since I was 14. That's ten years folks. Well, I did go in six months ago for x-rays to figure out what the problem I've been having was caused by. Yeh.. turns out there's more than 'a' problem. But I am so damned proud of myself anyway. It seems so minuscule when compared to other peoples' stuff, but I have seriously developed a full blown anxiety/phobia issue when it comes to dentists. I am so chuffed that I handled it, and did NOT spew on the dental nurse as per that time when I was 14!

Anyway, the negative that I was referring to in my title up there. My boss, we shall call him Jerkface, has gone over my head and given shifts to my hot-headed little ex-bridesmaid/ex-employee/reinstated-employee for the weekends. No amount of discussion-turned-pleading has been able to change this situation. I am at my wits end with this job. I enjoy the job; it's definitely not difficult compared to other jobs I've held and I enjoy the regularity of the money. But at the end of the day I am so frustrated with the complete lack of respect from the owners (Jerkface) that I am fighting my urge to quit every second of every day. I just don't know how much more I can take.

But, ya know. Whatever. I am getting married to a total babe in less than a month, and I have faith that the rest will fall into place. I guess I should be pleased that at the very least my mind is clear. I am happy. I am stressed to the nutballs fo sho with this bullshit job, but when I contemplate my life? Yeah, I'm happy. It'll get better. Oh and I'm banging out the Fleetwood Mac this evening, because I can.

Peace out!

Chubby wubby

I have had a crap day.

That's about it.

Things that happened today that are crap include (but are not limited to):

• My boss asking me if I was pregnant. It's a mistake people make I suppose, but there are a few factors that make it super crappo: for one Maxx is a man, and no man should ever comment on a woman's weight. For twofer, when I said I was certainly not pregnant he said "then why are you getting... more chubby". And for threez, I have been SO STRICT lately with my diet and exercise on account of I am getting hitched in five tiny short weeks. And my dress don't do up!
• I lost a friend. Once a great friend, in recent months almost a distant acquaintance, but in any case the person I asked to be my bridesmaid. I am not going to dwell or cry over her because I can honestly say (for once in my life?) that I am not at fault and I acted maturely and diplomatically. Well, as diplomatically as you can when you're having your squeezed and strangled heart handed to you in a doggy bag. Young people, pffsh.
• Thirdly... well I don't actually have a third. And that my friends is why I'm happy to wait and blog while my beautiful man uses every last drop of hot water in the system. Because when he gets out we're going to enjoy a nice double malt scotch together and watch some Sex and the City. Because I trained him to do that.

Blogging to the sound of Cops

Six weeks til the wedding! So much to do, yet so little motivation. I'm starting to panic about being a fatty boombah now; I think it's necessary to lost at least 2 kg to fit into that big white sucker. I'm Zen on the rest of the wedding front; a big hurdle was the honeymoon because we couldn't agree on a destination, and then there was the minor matter of firing a bridesmaid. But that's all sorted now, leaving me the victor and the nasty cow all at once. I know I did the right thing, and the most upsetting part wasn't her reaction but the fact that I had to do it in the first place. Someone I thought was a genuine friend turned out to be nothing more than a friend-fling, a fleeting relationship built on an in-genuine personality. Bummer.

It's all good though. I am a very lucky lady (as I type this my husband-to-be is throwing hot wheels cars at me and tooting from the arse.. hot). I'm fighting each and every day to stay in a positive mindset with my crappy work life and the terrible twos and the constant pain of a neglected rotting tooth, but look at what I have on the way.. a marriage to a man who treats me like a princess, a 7 day honeymoon in bali, and as if that's not all enough, tickets to State of Origin woohoo!

Things are going good guns.

Bullets

Hey bloggy. It's Sunday, and I'm enduring my Work-Tomorrow-Blues with a glass of scotch. I had something rather important to say (haha, as if), but instead I'll just babble some things off in bullet form so you know what's going on in the exciting life of Amy.

• I'm addicted to tumblr. But it's stupid and I don't like it at the same time.
• The puppy is doing so well with his injuries. He hasn't complained once.
• The bigger, problematic dog barred up at a mother walking her dog with her baby today. Not cool, not happy, she's moving out.
• We can't afford a honeymoon anymore, thanks to above bullet point.
• A girl I used to work with got married yesterday and posted some pictures on facebook today. As pathetic as it is, I was so pleased to see she's gotten a bit fat and had a plain dress. HA, that's what you get for spreading porkies about me four years ago!

That's all. Cheers!

Threes

It has been a tough few days. Tough doesn't quite do it justice.. It has been a FUCKED few days.

*clears throat*

Things were good, I had a sweet day at the races on Saturday, then BAM! Rick's car broke down.

Sunday night we chilled on the couch after a visit with Rick's dad. Dozing off to sleep together, BAM! The dogs have a massive fight resulting in a $2200 vet bill.

Monday morning Rick has to drop me off to work in my car so he can take the dog to the vet, BAM! My car decides to die after we stop to fuel up.

Seriously, rough few days for our bank account and for our stress levels. I can only hope these things know that old adage "all things happen in threes". Unfortunately for me, it feels like the three thousands. For one, my problemo el wisdom teeth is building. And two, I am on day four of my third attempt of antidepressants. I've been so nauseas. I am feeling very negative about going back on them which makes me wonder if negativity will stop them from working (because at the center of all of this, I still think it's all in my head). But whatever, we'll see. I guess for now I should just go with it and be pleased that I don't burst into tears at weird intervals for no foreseeable reason.

Anyway, whatever. For now it's heads down as Rick and I work our butts off to pay for the vet bills our furry children have caused. We used our wedding funds, so we have a bit of a way to make up now to pay for our reception and celebrant (yay us!). My lovely bosses gave me a bonus this week to show their appreciation for how awesome I am, which really brightened my mood at work. So now I'll just shut my whiney mouth and do some work!

Ciao

The lowdown

I got flowers delivered to work yesterday. My man is so sweet. I accidentally gave him a peak inside my crazy brain the night before and I think he is genuinely scared for me. He got really sick last night, fevers and chills and shivers. The whole shabang. I was up and down all night feeling helpless, fetching him water and my secret stash of the really good cold and flu pills. I feel guilty that I'm adding to his already bread-winning-man-of-the-house sized stress load. He's at work now but I'm expecting a phone call to pick him up any minute. Axel is going bat shit crazy over a bunny cartoon on the tv, apparently he's been waiting all morning for this one. The dogs are whining for attention on the veranda because it's raining and I won't let them inside. The dishes aren't done and the sheets are in the dryer and that's the end of my interesting life.

I went to the local Irish pub with my sister in law on Thursday night. One of the girls from work left her husband the day before so we jumped on that excuse to act like complete fools. I am embarrassed, and still paying for it today. It's probably about time I recognise that I am developing a bit of a reliance on booze. Time for a break me thinks; not having a drink until I go home to ma and pa's for Easter. Let's see how that goes.

And I'm outey!

This Is Not A Stick

Axel has this book that he really loves. He asks me to read it all the time, so much so that I sort of hide it under other books to avoid it. Easier books to read. Ones where the emphasis is obvious and preferably rhyming. This Is Not A Stick. It's not a long book, but it's sort of difficult to make it interesting. Well obviously that's only my adult ideal anyway because if Axel sees it he demands I read it.

These last few days I've been bobbing in the waves of stupid depression. I hate saying the word. But I can't really avoid it when I know it. The interwebs are at my fingertips. I have a brain. I know I have depression. I have tried to seek help, honestly. I have seen a few different doctors, spoke to my partner, my mother. The very first time I brought it up to my GP was at Axel's 10 day check up. She told me it would pass. Even before that, when I was pregnant, the midwife doing a checkup at the hospital picked up that there was potential for problems, but all she needed to hear was me saying I felt fine. Anyway, back to the bobbing. Sort of out of nowhere this week I had a jolting realization that as bad as I feel, as much as I loathe myself, I really, really love my kid. It's not like I didn't love him already, or didn't know it, but just this week it struck me that those feelings are there. The ones of complete amazement and adoration, as opposed to the ones of necessity and biological expectation. The ones whose absence haunted me when he was a tiny baby. So why do I still feel so shitty? Does this mean my brain is just generally fucked, instead of post-partum fucked?

I was laying on the lounge this morning at the crack of a sparrow's fart watching Angela Anaconda with Axel (lately sleep ins aren't the in thing in his world, it's cartoons as early as he can get me to open his door). He got up off his Lightning McQueen couch and asked me if my ear still hurt. I said "no baby, not hurt, just annoying" on account of my stupid ear is still blocked up. He looked at me with this expression far beyond his years, then climbed up on the lounge chair, kissed my ear and said "this is not an ear".

What do I do now?

Sunday

I'm feckin stressed. It's been a difficult few days, starting off with some petty fights and culminating with me sitting alone all night beating myself up about this and that. Just when I think I'm good, I'm on top of things, something really insignificant sees me tumble down and split my head open on the floor. It's such a cruel, bitter cycle. The lower I go, the more I loathe myself, which sinks me a little bit lower than I thought there was.

Meanwhile, my motherfucking ears are still blocked. I'm going to have to find time this week to see a doctor and hopefully get a referral to an ENT specialist. Because doctors in Brisbane are so helpful. I'm sure that'll go to plan.

At the forefront of my mind today has been the feeling of ultimate failure. I can't tolerate anything Axel does because I can't speak to him without the right side of my head slitting open and my brains falling out (it feels). This is followed by that familiar Sunday afternoon mama guilt; back to work tomorrow and I don't get to spend a single day with my son until next weekend. And I haven't done anything for him all weekend. I've sat in a pool of self pity. Something has got to give.

I could bitch and moan all night, but instead I'm going to play solitaire.

Why I'm anti undies (now)

How about potty training hey? That's the whole joke right there. This morning my clever/evil genius decided it was a good day to go commando. He has been doing so well at daycare using the big boy toilet, and we all know undies don't work in the Q household, so commando seemed reasonable. Previous undies attempts have all ended in the same fashion; Axel standing legs apart giggling and pointing as he wees in them. No, giggling isn't the right description. Cackling like an evil villain. Yeah.

Last Saturday we had a mostly successful day of commando, so I had no reason to fear it this morning. I didn't bank on Axel knowing where to find some clean undies. That he enjoys weeing in. On my new rug. That is very hard to clean. I understand toilet training comes with accidents, but malicious wee attacks are hard to stomach early on a Saturday morning. So that's why I hid all the undies.

Shaturday

Last Saturday I woke with this damn dirty cold. The whole week has been tremendously hard. Work has bent me over with unreliable staff and an unusually busy week, and with the cold getting worse and worse I've been dreaming of Saturday morning. I thought there was no way a stupid cold in summer would last more than seven days. I had visions of waking up this morning and breathing through ALL of my nostrils.

Nuh.

Also, I would like to ask the universe why my two and a half year old suddenly likes waking at the first sparrow's fart? Man, up until this age he was a better sleep-inner than me. There were plenty of Saturday mornings prior where me and his dad would look at each other with concern at 10am wondering if he'd been sneaking out to parties already. Not no more no how. Right now he's yelling at me to cook him eggs. I can only hear him out of the good ear; the one that didn't burst when I tried to blow my nose before... happy weekend!

Amy the Irresponsible

I just got home from my usual Thursday evening routine; impulse buying crap I don't need simply because I have an hour to kill between work finishing and kindy ending, and it's late night shopping right! The shops are open, there are clothes everywhere just looking at me, asking me to try them on. This evening I was particularly irresponsible. Not only did I purchase three items (two dresses and a demin vest) that I'm pretty sure I'd survive without, but both dresses are long enough to trip me over and they didn't have my size in the vest so I just went down one. Ha, silly consumer whore!

It's been one heck of a week at work. Understaffed thanks to uni starting back and colds and sprained ankles, and man have I been sick. The cold and flu season always makes me its bitch. So it was pretty easy for me to convince myself I deserved two new dresses and a demin jacket one size too small. Now if only I could afford to get out and wear my pretty new items!

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In other news, we found out yesterday that my sister in law from hell... uh I mean, from Boondall is 5.5 months pregnant. Not so nice that she didn't bother to tell anyone, but hey, I'm happy for her! In fact, I'm all up in that with tingly clucky jealousy. I can't wait til it's my turn to get round and sick and uncomfortable again, although I can't really place why. I keep mentioning this to Rick and he keeps chucking anything shiny he can find at me to distract me. He has offered to go ahead with the deck renovations I've wanted since we moved in (which would mean not leaving work for at least another 18 months), and keeps talking about overseas holidays for the three of us. But it's all good. Whatever is meant to be will be. Chyeah.

Hello old gal

I extended the olive branch to that horrible woman my fiancé was born after today. I know there is absolutely no point, but at least I feel like the bigger person now. It was even in retaliation to the latest accusation; that I have been logging into her facebook and leaving her nasty messages. Ah well, I just want to move on and embrace a calmer zen approach to in laws. I get along with the rest of them anyway. And this way, if the horrible one does come to our wedding she has nothing to throw at me except pure jealousy, which lets face it, I can catch and enjoy.

Oh yeah, wedding planning. The date is set, the venue is booked, the celebrant has pink hair, the dress is hanging up in the spare room, deposits have been put down on flowers and bridesmaid dresses are being made [in a sweatshop in China] as I type. It's all happening baby! Things left to do are:
-Rick's ring
-suits for the guys
-suit for the small guy
-shoes (won some on ebay that haven't arrived yet but I recognise that's risky)
-favours (stubby coolers fyeah!)

Aaand that's about it. The little things like table seating and hair and makeup can wait til we get a bit closer I think. Oh and there's the small matter of a big deposit of fat sitting across my rock hard abs. I need to sort that out before the dress that's hanging in my spare room will actually do up. But I've got months! Right?