I'm an almost 40-something reluctant suburbanite Mum from Melbourne. In my head I am astoundingly like Beyonce, but in reality I probably live a life more parallel to that of Carol Brady. Or worse, Alice from the kitchen. I am making exceptional use of my extremely expensive private education, bachelors and masters degrees by staying at home to make honey sandwiches, wash footy kits, and be broadly unappreciated by my 3 "spirited" children. And isn't that a great feeling!? Nope, it's totally not.
So, to make myself feel better, and to stop me from spending all our money out of sheer boredom, I have decided to start bitching about it all here on the interwebs. I also enjoy fashion (of the mostly affordable variety), styling, and drinking so that stuff may occasionally slip into the mix as well.
I hope you enjoy my crazy, and that it helps you own your own. Feel free to join in with a comment or story whenever you feel like it!
Life with children was not what I expected. At all. And I know I'm not the only one, but the thing that has amazed me since becoming a mum is that people have always been so amused when I've called it out for the shit fight it is. This is no picnic people, and we all know it. Why can't we just sit down and say so? I have a feeling we may all be a bit more sane if we did, and if not sane then at least a little comforted. So, in looking to do something with my life (now that my kids have destroyed my career), I decided to do something about it.
To fall down the metaphorical rabbit hole of course comes from the children's tale Alice in Wonderland and according to the portal of all knowledge (Wikipedia) refers to an "entry into the unknown, the disorienting or the mentally deranging" or "a bizarre or difficult state or situation". So, BAM! There's my last 10 years summed up perfectly I think!!
As almost everybody probably did pre-kids, I had so many wonderful ideas and views on what sort of parent I would be. 10 years, 3 kids and nearing the front of the queue to 40, I rather feel a little bit broken and a whole lot dazed and confused.
Between the complete loss of control (of life, underlings, bladder...), the mums who behave like they're the ones still in school (40 is NOT the new 16 people), and the general adulting required (don't forget small children's birthday parties, do resist the urge to swear like a truck driver...) its all just a little cray cray.
Writing has become a bit of therapy for me (and MUCH cheaper). To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent and no idea how to get the the end intact. I really do want the best for my family, but I'd also like some of the goods for myself. I just hope I can get this thing over the line without completely fucking us all up along the way.