A day of rest, family and abortion rights

Sunday the 27th of May 2018

I tell you what, I’ll do well if I manage to get to my normal few thousand words today because I’ve done literally fuck alllll day. Not because of any overly dramatic reason to be fair, I mean I’m shit but I’m not at deaths door, it’s just the way it’s panned out; almost like Sunday was MEANT to be a day of rest. Not for Christiaan mind, he’s been running around like a blue arsed fly for most of the day. Poor sod.

It became apparent his agenda was set when I woke up feeling and looking like some sort of homeless zombie with a come down. It STILL surprises me when I wake up and realise just how horrendous I can look. I mean everyone can look tired, fuck, I can look tired even on my best days but these days I genuinely look like beaten up scrotum on my bad days. It’s like my face just goes “Nahhhhh, fuck that, no point in glittering a steaming shite, move on boys… focus on the labia instead”, and that’s how it’s decided, so take comfort that my face may look like shite but I have the youngest, most vibrant labia around. Not really, I’ve had a child…. it’s like droopy dog has had a tragic accident down there. Still, I bet Christiaan would love me to just bounce out of bed one morning and be ready to go; I can’t even begin to imagine how fucking tedious all of this is for him.

So today, has been incredibly quiet for me – big fucking surprise. Christiaan took bollockchops off to the park early this morning, and then to do a bit of shopping in the hope that absolutely knackering him out would leave him with little energy to replicate the sheer arseholery of yesterday. So off they went, down to the park by the sea and had a right good stomp by all accounts, Eli apparently saw dinosaur footprints and a donkey which I call bullshit on, but whatever, he had fun. They both did by the sounds of it and bar one paddy Eli seemed to behave  we were already miles ahead of yesterdays behaviour. Then they trucked off go PANTS SHOPPING for Christiaan, which is a big deal in this house. We were getting to the stage where he had more holes than legs in his current batch of boxers so I forced the issue but generally once a year both he and I feel more comfortable if he has a cull and buys some new. He says the same thing every year it comes round mind “I can’t believe how expensive fucking pants are”. Thing is, they’re your most worn garment next to your most delicate parts of your body; it’s worth investing in something that doesn’t grate your genitals into cabbage aint it? We’re not talking about trendy Calvin’s here by the way, just your bog standard Next range so he’s little room to moan but I cannot get that man to spend money on himself until it’s absolutely dire straits. As in, YOUR UNDERKEKS HAVE 90 HOLES IN EACH SIDE YOU HILLBILLY, BUY SOME NEW ONES FOR FUCKS SAKE. So he did.

I wasn’t able to do very much while they were out; I’m STILL recovering from that fucking visit to the hairdressers, although I seem a bit better than yesterday again so I guess it’s all going in the right direction, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow for the sake of vanity though. I was also right scunnered (look it up) by the sea mist that was rolling in and was clouding Kinghorn from the lovely sunny day that every other fucker round here seemed to be having; so not only could I not get to the park with my two favourite penis’d males I couldn’t even sit in the bastard garden. I was stuck in doors watching a programme on transgender and binary identifiable people, which to be fair, was right interesting, but not what I’d have liked to have done with my time.  My morning turned even more sour when I realised that the thickest of the dumb and dumber brigade, Bear, had somehow STILL managed to get on the garage fucking roof, despite us spending a fortune on plants and planters yesterday blocking off the most obvious entry points. How the fuck had that furry little dick work out how to get up there? He can’t even work out the flies are on out the outside of the window 99% of the time. Then I found out….He just walked round them and jumped up and down. He can’t jump down from the work top without landing on his chin, in fact when he was 10 weeks old he was so shit at jumping that he broke his back leg, but now? Now that another cat has dared come near his territory in the last week, he’s turned into Furry Schwarzenegger – his strength and agility knows no bounds. The fact that normal cat logic doesn’t apply baffles me; most cat’s wouldn’t spacially recognise this gap looking from the ground up; the angle wouldn’t allow him to see it. I suspect it’s only because he’s a moron that he’s jumped and luck that he landed on the bastard roof at all. FAIL.

After I’d finished twatting around getting him back in doors Christiaan and Eli had arrived back and then it was lunch time for little legs and thankfully nap time – HE NAPPED. Oh fuck me I could have wept in relief when his wee peepers closed. We had a chance at a better afternoon than yesterday at least! I was still a bit immobile so it’s not like I had great plans, but I managed to get some washing sorted and hung out so I was chuffed the morning wasn’t entirely wasted and we had clean clobber to see us into a new week; sometimes it’s the small victories that burn the brightest. Christiaan and I sat and chewed the cud until it was time to get him up, by which time the mist had fucked off and the sun was out – HALLELUJAH.

It was getting quite comfortable outside temperature wise and tomorrow is supposed to be all cloudy and shit so it was decided an afternoon pottering in the garden was called for while we had the chance (yeah because there was so much MORE on my agenda obvs). My folks were coming round a bit later in the afternoon so we waited till they came, whipped out the ice cream cones (none for me obvs) and watched Eli and my Dad chase each other round the garden. Poor Christiaan was in charge of refreshments and I was in charge of sitting on my fat arse which suited me just fine. Dinner time rolled round and my folks normally disappear these days to save me going to any bother.  I used to cook for the family regularly but it’s a bit more of an ordeal these days. Not tonight though, I had a fuck tonne of left overs to get rid of, and we were all enjoying each others company,  so I force fed them on the premise it would help empty the fridge and it really was just heating shit up. It was nice; Christiaan was red in the face from the arse blazing curry I had made last night which now had time to “mature” and could have blown the coal from a fire, my dad was wiring into some chilli from the freezer that again was too fucking spicy and me, my mum and the wee boy tucked into the pasta and pork meatballs with left over pork mince from burger night. We’ll probably all die of food poisoning in the night, but at least the fridge is empty.

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I guess it’s just as well I rested today, tomorrow we’re meeting our D and her gang at Dobbies in the morning to watch the kids go nuts in the soft play. It’s a bank holiday and it’s also weigh in day for me so I’m having something filthy with a cup of turd charmer (strong coffee) and I’m going to enjoy it. I’ve been absolutely immaculate this week with my food choices so I’d like to think I’ll see something come off, but I did look at a cake today so I may well have gained 15 stone by osmosis. I’d not mind gaining weight from looking at a half decent cake if I’m honest; half of the sin is in the thought after all, but this was a batch of toddler friendly banana and raisin muffins I’d cobbled together in a haze when I realised the bananas were turning yesterday. They were obviously for Eli, which clearly means he hates them. He took a few bites just to make sure but then the convo went like this:

  • Me: Eli, try some of more of your banana cake please
  • Eli: No thank you Mummy
  • Me: Go on toots, big bite
  • Eli: Shakes head – No Mummy
  • Me: That makes Mummy very sad Eli, I made those for you
  • Eli: *pauses* then puts hand on my arm “Don’t worry Mummy, put in bin”

So there you fucking go. Dick.

The only thing I wanted to mention before I pissed off for the night was Ireland. Yesterdays landslide was a fucking epic victory for your country. You should be incredibly proud that you’ve voted as a nation to embrace choice rather than the plethora of historical piety that many religious leaders would paint for you.  I understand it won’t be amazing news for everyone mind, the 33% who voted no for a start, but to me it’s a huge transfer of power; from desperation and shame to freedom and choice and that can ONLY be a good thing. Obviously abortion is a really emotive subject and it’s not place to tell you what’s right and wrong, why the fuck should I? I’m just a thirty-seven year old nobody sat away over here for far too fucking long and as it happens,  I don’t think there can be any wrong opinions when those opinions are attached to a personal experience or set of circumstances. In fact, I believe that only those who speak very loudly and aggressively with no fucking context or clue of what they’re speaking about deserve shouting down. Lets call them the ignorant and mouthy; I suspect they mean well but are incredibly misguided. The rest of us? Well we’re entitled to think whatever the fuck we like so long as it’s not banded about uninvited like an erection at a party. So, kudos to you my Irish friends – I raised my cup of tea in your general direction. Cheers!

The End

  • Highlights
    • A really chilled out day…. for me at least
    • Cracking watching my folks and Eli entertain each other, it does my heart a lot of good
    • My fridge is now bereft of left overs and I think it’s the first time we’ve eaten together at dinner time this year?
    • Weigh in day tomorrow which means I can have a more relaxed feed
    • Although it’s Monday, it’s a bank holiday which means no solo parenting hooorayyyy!!
  • Lowlights
    • Not a great day for me health wise really. I’ve not gone on about it about in the main blog because fuck me, you must be fucked off hearing it.
    • Bear is more of an idiot than first thought, so are we as it turns out
  • What’s on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast – apple, raspberries and yoghurt… again
    • Lunch – quorn chicken burger things on a pitta bread
    • Dinner – Pasta and sauce with meatballs

Are you new round here?

If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum

#ThisisME

 

 

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