I shouldn’t be blogging. I really don’t have time right now. I am the sucker who acquiesced to a slumber party at Chez Abs tomorrow night instead of simply shelling out the big bucks for Sky Zone gig. What’s more the soon to be turning 8 P1 has told everyone, and specified on the hand drawn invitation, that it’s a theme party. Not just your garden variety Frozen party – Anna and Elsa are like soooo lame once you pass the age of six. P1 is opting for a retro classic with a touch of psychedelia – Alice in f*&king Wonderland! I suppose I should be proud. It would be a rockin’ idea for a 25th with no parental improvement.
Here’s the thing about theme parties at this stage of my existence – in the immortal words of Sweet Brown.
The reason I barely I have time to scratch my toes (I sit here with itchy toes as I write) is that I have recently joined the ranks of the employed. I’ve had a hefty dose of the reality that everyone else is complaining about. To all you working mothers out there – before I sympathized. Now I fully understand.
Where do I begin with this topic? Getting out of the house on time in the morning contains enough stress for the entire day. By the time I have wrangled the girls into their uniforms and implored them to brush their teeth for the millionth time I’m exhausted. I’ve discovered that children simply getting dressed is an event that defies the laws of physics. Breaking the light speed barrier is easier. The regular catch cries in Chez Abs are “stop jumping on the bed, singing Everybody Dance Now and get dressed”, or “stop flashing your butt and get dressed” or “stop hitting your sister and get dressed”. Then when after an epic struggle they do get their basic uniform in place they refuse to put on their jacket. This is especially the case when conditions outside are Antartic. Lets hope global warming will soon relieve me of this problem. Of course the second we get out of the door someone will have to go back and fetch some forgotten essential item like a hat or a library book.
The house is in a permanent state of disarray because household duties has fallen to the very bottom of the priorities list. More to the point I’m too much of a tight wad to fork out for a cleaner despite the urging of many friends and acquaintances. The hiring of domestic serfs would take a hefty bite out of my unspectacular remuneration making the whole thing unworthwhile. First world problems – I got ’em.
Meanwhile dont get me started on childcare. I thought having two kids in school would save me some coin. Sadly what I’ve saved in long day care is being chewed up by after school care. Earlier in the week I had heart dropping moment when I say my bill for Vacation Care. Its going to cost me more than I’ll bring in for the fortnight (plus the gosh darn pupil free Monday on the first week back). Normally I could have rationalized this set back. However it came the morning after the devastating events of the Game of Thrones finale. I was despondent about Jon Snow* and the bill shock was too much for this fragile petal to bear. I would have run straight for the chocolate alas I am on a diet.
The Mummy guilt thing is kicking in. The kids often tell me that they don’t want to go to after school care although they usually appear to be having fun when I pick them up. They are constantly imploring me to collect them early. Extracurricular activities during the week are virtually off the agenda and the homework window is narrowing. I have an irrational sense that I am curtailing my kids’ potential.
Yes Mummy guilt is being felt. Luckily the guilt is counter balanced by the fact that my job isn’t exactly glamorous or high powered. Therefore I get to juggle Mummy guilt with a deep seated sense of career failure. As Hannah Montana sings “its the best of both worlds”.
Excuse me while I spend my last couple of remaining hours off this week cleaning the house.
How’s work life balance travelling for you?
Don’t read this next little bit if you care not for Game of Thrones.
* Are you butt hurt about Jon Snow? There simple has not been enough internet discussion about this very important issue over the past week. This world contains two types of people a) those who are obsessed with Game of Thrones and b) those who don’t get enough crumpet in their televisual diet.
I fall well within the first category and I am totally butt hurt by the events of the recent finale. My pain makes no sense given, as the purists repeatedly point out, Jon’s death was in the f&*king books and no one expects him to stay dead. He’s not even my favorite character for Chrissake. That honour goes to Tyrion. Anyhow I am butt hurt nonetheless.
Game of Thrones has form when it comes to killing off smokin’ hawt characters – Robb Stark, Oberyn Martell etc however Jon Snow was exceptionally, astoundingly, ridiculously, improbably hawt. I don’t know how he could have spent so much time standing on that 700 foot ice wall without the whole thing melting and raising sea levels around Westoros. He is that darn hawt. Really by rights the lands beyond the Wall should be a tropical paradise by now given Jon Snow’s proximity.
Secondly we’ve sat through five seasons worth of hints about Jon Snow’s parentage and potential possession of dragon wrangling power. It’s the world’s worst kept secret that Jon is really a Targaryen and hence has a direct claim on the Iron Throne. We were all speculating that he is third head of dragon as per the prophecy yada yada yada. But gosh darn if he is really permanently dead this theory will crumble to ashes and means that someone inevitably less hawt is the real third head of the dragon.
Thirdly Jon Snow is one of the only people who has an idea of the true gravity of the white walkers situation. The very survival of the realm is at stake and Jon was critical to its defense (by virtue of his mystical powers and Valyrian steel sword). The realm will have to rely on Team Daenerys now and Lord knows they have issues.