Saturday, 12 February 2011

Sometimes I don't know why he stays with me (It's because my hair is pretty)

I have rage. RAGE. In my chest, in my skin, in my toes, in my neck, vibrating in all my atoms. It's not a well-defined rage. It's just general frustration, I guess. I keep making plans, in spite of never getting any sleep, and most of my plans get scuppered by others. Resulting in rage. I'm trying to break out of this cotton candy prison of constant baby care by getting a bit more independent and every time I make a plan something goes wrong.
  • My weekend sleep is thwarted by Jack's Saturday morning swimming lessons. 
  • My mother-daughter shopping and hairdresser trip was ruined by an as yet unidentified virus which has invaded the daughter part of the mother-daughter combination.
  • My brilliant plan to ditch the baby at creche and go to the gym on Monday has been ruined already by Jack and Marie's school because they have the day off. For Valentine. What crap.
  • There is also no peace and quiet in this house since Charlie has learned to roll over and to scream, both in the same week. He uses his high-pitched scream when he's not happy, which is basically when he's not being entertained or has turned over onto his tummy and can't roll back. Which is every time anyone puts him down.
  • And so on and so forth. Woe is me. With my perfect babies and my lovely husband and no money worries. Oh yeah I'm having a completely undeserved self-pity-party. (I do know that.)
Anyway, this general rage sometimes comes out and bites people in the face when they dare to open their mouths. Not so much the children, because I seem to have some restraint with them. So it's basically Babes who gets it, poor guy. After he had taken the baby for a walk and gone food shopping, and before he cooked us all dinner, he dared to ask me to load the dishwasher. For roughly the first time in a year. Because, you know, I'd been too pregnant and then too tired and breastfeeding and he is a helpful sweetheart. How can he be so unfair? How dare he! I sulked, shouted, stomped. But did it. Because you have to know when you're in the wrong. Even when it hurts. Even when it's the most horrible job in the world.

The bastard. I hate it when he's right. For once I won't even make him apologise.

At least my hair is pretty.

16 comments:

  1. Rage lives in my heart too. Mostly it is quiet, but sometimes the least little thing opens the door which it lives behind. Some key is turned and out it flies.
    It's not a pretty sight.

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  2. pretty hair is a good thing.

    Monday put the 2 older ones on baby turn over duty. Pay them a sweet a turn!!! Yes that would make you a bad mum but at least you would be a happy bad one rather than a grumpy good one. Do you know the unfairness of it all is stinky. Let's have a glass of wine and hope for sunshine and a few smiles tomorrow :0)

    and bah humbug to the person that hasn't invented the self stacking and emptying disher washer yet (I thought that was what a husband was for?!)

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  3. Stupid dishwashers. After I had my sleep in til 10am this morning, I dared to complain that the dishwasher still hadn't been emptied (and therefore re-filled) and WO, that was the wrong thing to say here too!!
    I think you're amazing for making an effort to do things for yourself, it's so good that you can say "Hey, I need this". Even if all your plans get thwarted. One day the stars will all align.
    And yes, you do have gorgeous hair!! x

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  4. At least your hair is pretty.

    Being a mother is hard. Being a mother is really hard. Being a mother who has 5 nannies is really hard. There are no jobs that could come close to being a mother.

    Our rage comes on the people that we love the most. It's not ok...but it is human and we can work to do better in the future.

    At least your hair is pretty!

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  5. My beloved is a Sagittarius just like me so when I go over the edge, he jumps off behind me in quick pursuit. He's able to put a nice spin on things and when it's all over, I'm busted up and he's victorious.

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  6. Being a mother and having pretty hair is no mean feat. The universe conspires against it. You're clearly gifted.

    This week of thwartedness (thwartation? Thwart?) will soon pass. Look forward!

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  7. Sorry to be getting kicks from your misery but that was a v. funny post. EVERYTHING I try to do for myself gets thwarted by one of these people I live with. I wish I could be the centre of my own universe for a change... and I haven't even got sodding pretty hair to feel good about! Or an effing dishwasher!!

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  8. I surrendered to the inevitable, that you NEVER get too much of your own time, I have grown children (as you know) but I still can't plan much, even dinner, because they have last min plans 'hey I won't be here for dinner' just as I am organising it, or 'can you drive me to the station/pick me up' because they are good children and don't drink and drive, but there goes my fav show or my glass of wine etc. You are lucky to have pretty hair, so have I, pretty bloody awful, when will hairdressers ever listen to how you want it???? *#*&@@@. I know I am 'over the hill' to the young trendy hairdressers, but I still don't want a granny hair cut!!!!!
    :) x Sandi
    Oh and I have to do my own bleeding dishwasher too (too polite to put appropriate swear word in here)

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  9. I sit around wanting to bitchslapmy husband because my dishwasher STINKS and it is all his fault, because he is in charge of all things mechanical. So I have been refusing to do dishes until he empties the food trap and runs bleach through of something - and I will not give in. Rage against the machine, baby.

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  10. I too complain like mad when the sink is slightly clogged with bits of food that Stevie hasn't cleared out of the pots properly when he washes the dishes (that won't fit/don't go in the dishwasher every night (of the year).

    Are you sure you can't make him apologise? I'm sure it would make you feel a little better! While you're at it, force him to apologise for Stevie not clearing the pots properly and that will make me feel better too!

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  11. Go and give him a Valentine's Day snog - that makes everything better!

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  12. @Ms. Moon - It often takes me by surprise. I think I'm calm and then there it is.

    @Kelloggsville - Ha my mother took them, so I got to go to the gym anyway! Gone all rage.

    @Rhi - They did align! Sooner than expected. Woohoo!

    @Kate - At least my hair is pretty indeed. I have the best hairdresser in the world.

    @All This Trouble - Ouch. At least mine's pretty quiet so things blow over.

    @Jo - I know! The gift is all my hairdresser's really.
    You were so right about looking forward.

    @Troutie - Ah yes. Make it happen! I did today and it's like I'm a new person.

    @sandiart - I get that as well - I hate it when they give me a practical mummy's haircut.

    @GingerB - No! Everything's MY husband's fault, not yours.

    @fiona - I told him to apologise for Stevie as well. He didn't really want to. But you did make me laugh.

    @Maggie May - Sigh...

    @Calif Lorna - Whose side are you on exactly? ;-)

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  13. If you didn't have dishwasher like me and had to do the washing up you would really have gone mental!! (I despise washing up and SO miss a dishwasher)

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  14. A day off for valentine? Surely thats seriously over the top. What next? A day off for St Mary Magdalene?

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  15. I think your baby has been talking to my baby and they have been sharing tips on how to incite this rage in their mothers. Mine has also learned screaming this week. Turns out she has rage too. Just like her mother.

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