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My week

by with One Comment ExerciseGeneralHealth and wellbeing

 

Last week was brutal for me. I had so many things that just all converged at the same time and just made me super tense and stressed.  I could actually feel my veins constricting. I could feel the knots in my stomach.  I could feel the breathlessness, the restlessness, the nervousness. I had a pounding headache the whole week.  It was so visceral.  It was awful.

Anyway, what could be so bad you ask.  Well as my dad so bluntly put it while I was having a mini panic attack on the phone to him, none of these things was life or death, so why was I overreacting? Because that is what I do. Duh. I had my tae kwon do grading. Tae kwon do is my favourite thing in the world. It is so much more to me than a hobby and one day when I find the right words to describe it, I will tell you all about it in detail. But for now, all you need to know is that I love it. But I also hate it. Because I love it so much. Are you following? Yes, I know it’s all very confusing and contradictory. Now you know how I feel. But because I am so heavily invested in tae kwon do and it’s so much more than a hobby to me, I take it super seriously.  I am very average at tae kwon do.  I am not some gifted martial artist. I must work seriously hard to even be ok at it. I am always scared of injuring myself because I am both old and clumsy.  This is not a good combo for anything, let alone a martial artist. So, it was my grading, and I am proud to say I have made it to blue belt.  This is halfway to black belt. But I was super stressed. I am old and don’t remember a lot of things easily and for tae kwon do you have to learn a lot of theory and Korean terminology.  As I am a super nerd, I take studying very seriously. But studying at my age is not easy. And I am literally learning a new language. 

On top of the stress of tae kwon do, I also had a few horrible things I had to sort out at work. You know that thing that none of you think I do? My day job? It all got fixed in the end, but it involved so much emotional trauma, and may I add admin (Errand Paralysis ; People Are Dumb )(and you all know how I feel about admin) that I genuinely thought I would keel over dealing with it all.  Luckily, I didn’t, and I’m here to tell the tale. 

This was also the week that I migrated the old blog to here and even though I hired somebody amazing to do it, it still involved supervision and participation from my end. And seeing as I don’t understand technology, I genuinely had no idea what I was weighing in on. It was just super stressful trying to figure it all out. I felt like a serious dumb ass. I felt like one of those 70-year-old parents who have to ask their kid to set up their iPad. My mum always does this to me and I get so frustrated with it all, but now I have nothing but sympathy.  Tech is way too confusing. I sometimes ask my 8-year-old to help me with Zoom.  How embarrassing.

child using technology easily
see Mum zoom is easy

So yes, this was my week. Nothing life or death, but all stressful, nonetheless. But here I am. I have somehow survived it all. I think I have taken about 3 years off my life span as a result of this week, but if I only live to be 172 years old, as opposed to 175, it will be ok. Hopefully by that age I will have my black belt.

The gift of sight

Nov 7, 2022 No Comments

I’m a four-eyes right? People just assume that I wear my glasses because I enjoy them, but the reality is, I wear my glasses, because

Read More »

Juggle juggle juggle

Jul 19, 2022 1 Comment

I can’t cope anymore. I’m on the verge of tears. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so tired of juggling everything. This is

Read More »

Age Concern

Jul 1, 2022 No Comments

Right so you know I’ve been all obsessed with death lately right? Not my own. I’m not going to be here to deal with the

Read More »

Submission

May 25, 2022 No Comments

So look I know I haven’t written in a while ok. Can we just skip past that for now. Because right now I feel like

Read More »

Death

Jan 15, 2022 No Comments

Yeah that’s right. The dreaded D word. I feel like over the past two years we’ve practically been over exposed to death. Covid has completely

Read More »

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Monotony, the dishwasher and crumbs

by with No Comment GeneralUncategorized

Is lock down monotonous? It feels relentless to me. Every day it’s the same. Wake up, check the kids’ virtual learning environment and see what their work for the day is, hound them to do some of it, teach most of it, argue about it, pound my head against the wall and beg the gods for some end to this misery. And that’s even before breakfast. Then the real work begins. You know the work- unloading and loading the dishwasher. I swear I must unload and reload that dishwasher about 5 times in a day. It is relentless. And the sweeping of the kitchen floor. Can we talk about sweeping? It is never ending. No matter how much I sweep, the floor is always covered in crumbs. I swear even while I’m sweeping I can see the crumbs. I can feel the crumbs. I see them in my nightmares. What are these mystery crumbs ? I will have just swept the floor and there those crumbs are. They are sent from above to test me. Or are they sent from below to test me? I feel demented even writing about the crumbs. It makes me want to have perpetual picnics in the garden so that I never have to sweep crumbs again. It reminds me of that episode of Friends when Monica made Phoebe eat the cookies over the sink so they didn’t make crumbies. This is my life now. Obsessing about crumbs. So yes lockdown is monotonous. Today my sister in law Z got her hubby A to cut her hair. And I mean a real haircut. Not just a trim. I asked her why she did it and she said to cut the monotony of lockdown. My husband just ordered some clippers in order to shave his head. Who knows- I may shave my head just to escape the infernal crumbs.

Subscribe! Otherwise the crumbs are coming for you.

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I can’t wait for the weekend

by with No Comment GeneralHealth and wellbeingParenting

So I have so many things that I want to write about and share with you. So many micro epiphanies, so many stories. But I’m lazy and I get busy and I get impostor syndrome. You know the drill. So then I endlessly just find rubbish to do on my phone instead. I’m addicted. What can I say. It’s bad. I know. But anyway, something really just fucked me off this morning and it propelled me to get off my lazy arse and write. This morning, Chump and I had a massive argument. Like a bad one. Over washing dishes. You see I hate seeing even one measly piece of cutlery in the sink to be washed. So when I see a sink full of dishes, I actually panic and lose my shit. Normally I wash as I go along. It just keeps me sane. But since all those lockdowns when Chump was home, he started washing up. And I got used to it. It worked nicely. I would do the cooking and he would do the washing up. But then he went back to the office full time. Poor guy. I do feel sorry for him. He doesn’t have the option to work from home. So out he goes to work at the crack of dawn and leaves all the domestic shit to me. Which pre-Covid was ok. That’s how it worked. But now, it feels like a massive slap in the face. Like I lost a legitimate expectation of having help. Now I do all the childcare again and all the domestic stuff. And I still work. And I’m not blaming Chump. As I’ve said before, he’s as much a victim of this sexist, patriarchal society as I am. But it makes me so angry. So now, once I finish writing this post, I’m going to go and wash dishes. But it’s the weekend you say. Why can’t Chump do it? Because it’s the weekend and we have kids. And these kids have these super busy social lives and need chauffering around. Weekends are not relaxing around here. We wake up at the crack of dawn still and hustle to get the kids ready for their weekend activities. We make lunches, we do laundry, we drive them around. We have play dates. We do homework. We run errands. It’s madness. I now hate weekends. I used to love them because it was actually a legitimate break from life. Now weekends are just an insane extension of the week. And in fact they are worse, because your day doesn’t end at 5pm or whatever time you stop work. It just goes on and on. It’s not like your kids want to sleep on the weekends. No it’s a weekend! They want to watch movies on the sofa. And they want you to bring them endless snacks after you’ve done all that running around. Because you are their servant. And you still have to do laundry. But this time more, because now you have to wash their swimming costumes and their muddy shoes and all that other paraphernalia associated with their weekend activities. And my god it’s exhausting. And it makes me cranky. And it makes me want to pick fights with the one person I love more than anything in the world. Because he’s there. And he’s doing this nonsense with me. And I love him for it. And I hate him for it. Because I’m complicated. And all I want to do is watch Saturday Kitchen and have a cup of coffee with him instead of having a hurried breakfast of the kids’ leftover chocolate cereal and cold coffee and then watching him leave me for the rest of the day while I wash dishes, load the dishwasher, do the 15 loads of laundry and then go out and run all the household errands. Have I said it before? Parenting is a drag. Ok bye, the dishes beckon.

Oh do fuck off you weirdo
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The gift of sight

by with No Comment BeautyHealth and wellbeing

I’m a four-eyes right? People just assume that I wear my glasses because I enjoy them, but the reality is, I wear my glasses, because I just can’t touch my eyes and put contact lenses in. It’s so creepy. I can’t look in the mirror and actually touch my eye. It freaks me out. So I’m stuck with glasses. I’ve always thought I want to do laser eye surgery. And a few years ago, I went to a laser surgery clinic and had the consultation and was told that my eyes weren’t suitable for laser eye surgery. At the time I breathed a little sigh of relief, because even laser eye surgery creeped me out. I mean being awake while someone pokes a laser in my eye and cuts my retina open just freaked the shit out of me. But a few years later and having to wear my glasses to all the various sports that I do, wearing them to special occasions and just looking like the biggest nerd on the planet made me think, ok, I can deal with 15 seconds of weirdness while somebody cuts my eye open if I can be free of my glasses forever. So this summer, I went to another clinic and enquired about vision correction and was again told that my eyes weren’t suitable. Not one to be fobbed off so lightly, I went to Turkey this summer for my summer vacation and thought to myself wouldn’t it be lovely to get laser eye surgery and never have to wear glasses again and when I’m in the swimming pool, I can actually see without worrying about my glasses getting wet etc etc. So I went to an eye hospital there and did a consultation for vision correction and was again told in no uncertain terms that my eyes are just not suitable for any type of vision correction and that I actually have some sort of creepily shaped eyes and frankly it was a miracle I could see at all, even with glasses. To hear this from a surgeon in Turkey, who has no vested interest in my long-term health and vision was an eye opener. Excuse the pun. And suddenly, instead of feeling really downbeat and all depressed about my creepy eyes, I started loving my eyes. I started loving my glasses. Because I can see! I can actually see! I have dodgy eyes and I shouldn’t be able to see, but with glasses I have 20-20 vision. I was amazed. And when I went to the swimming pool, instead of squinting and accepting my poor vision, I wore prescription goggles. And it was like I was a child again! I actually put my head in the water and I could see! It was miraculous. I haven’t put my head in the water in maybe 20 years. But this summer, I swam. With reckless abandon. I had races with the kids to see who could stay underwater for longest. I worked on my front crawl. It was blissful. When we went to the beach, I wore my goggles and dove into the sea. I have never done this in my life. I feel like I’ve been given the gift of sight. And it is a bloody miracle. Now I wear my glasses with absolute wonder and marvel at the miracles of modern medicine. I can see clearly now. And I can’t believe it’s only taken me 20 years to realise I can see.

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Juggle juggle juggle

by with One Comment BeautyExerciseGeneralHealth and wellbeingParenting

I can’t cope anymore. I’m on the verge of tears. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so tired of juggling everything. This is the text I sent to Chump this morning. Because it’s all true. I am so mentally and emotionally drained from this shitty life that we live in this shitty world. When did life get so overwhelming? Why is being a parent so hard. Let me give you some background, so you don’t think I’m in yet another crisis for no reason. There is a reason, although once I write it down, it will probably look like a micro crisis that I’ve invented because I am insane. But at the risk of looking demented, I’ll fill you in.

I work, part time. I like my job. I like my employer and I like the organization that I work for. I genuinely feel lucky in my job. It doesn’t cause me stress. In fact, I’m good at it. And I enjoy the relief of going into the office. I’m one of those weirdos who actually enjoys the commute and being in the office. It cuts my day up and makes it structured. When I am forced to work from home for an extended period of time, I hate it. I get really depressed and anxious and paranoid. And because of this horrific heat wave, I’m forced to work from home. Don’t get me wrong, I like working from home and I definitely need flexibility in my life. But I can’t do it all the time. Girl finished school about two weeks ago. So trying to figure out what to do with her while I continued working and Boy still had school was a challenge to say the least. Because Girl is a little homebody. She loves being home with her arts and crafts and her toys and her space. But she got shipped off to my parents house for some sleepovers. And initially she loved it, but then she started getting homesick and then the shit hit the fan, because when Girl gets homesick, she can’t cope. But last week, was one of those insane weeks when everything just piled up on me. Boy still had school. I still had to work and I had to go into the office for a few meetings. But not only did Boy still have school, but he had final assembly and prize giving day on two separate days. And he wanted me to come to both. To be absolutely clear, he did not win any prizes and we knew he wasn’t winning any prizes. He just wanted to see his mama there. So I obliged him, because I love him and want him to be happy. But I had to sit in a sweltering hot church for two hours each day. It cut into my precious time when I have to get my life admin done. Last week, I didn’t get to work out at all. And when I don’t exercise, I freak out. To make matters a bit more complicated, we had a bit fat Indian wedding of an extended family member starting the day Boy finished school. It was a 4 day thing and it was intense man. Because it required so much freaking planning. I had to get everybody’s outfits ready, including my own. And if you know anything about Indian outfits, you know what an absolute headfuck they are if you’ve been unfortunately blessed with a buxom body. As I have. But I had to all the other shit, like get my nails did, my hair done, get rid of all the unwanted hair that Indian women just seem to accumulate everywhere. Now I know you’re thinking, why are you panicking about all this shit. Because it needs to get done and where is the time man. How are we supposed to juggle kids and work and life admin all the time? I am so tired. I am so emotionally drained. I got an email today about some insurance I’ve taken out over something and it is renewing in a week. And those fuckers are charging me a £20 insurance renewal premium, which is outrageous. But I just thought to myself, I don’t care. I’m just going to let it renew, because I don’t the headspace to call them and cancel the insurance and then do the research on finding the right insurance. It’s too much admin. My head would explode just thinking about it. I feel ashamed that I am just going to let that £20 go whereas my parents and any other sensible human being wouldn’t do it. When I add work into the mix and all the figuring out childcare over the summer, my brain just overheats and I panic. Childcare is expensive over the summer and it’s also not fit for purpose. I don’t know what working parent only needs childcare until 3pm in the summer. I do not finish work at 3pm. And I do not start work at 10am. The hours are completely useless to me. So I have to hustle some more and try to figure out wrap around care. I read this lovely article in the Guardian about how people want a good work life balance and have kind of ditched their career ambition. To be honest, I did that years ago, but even now with my limited part time role, its all starting to feel like too much. Chump told me yesterday about one of his colleagues dropping his wife and kids to the airport because they are going away for the whole summer and my response was : lucky bastard. I wish you guys were going away all summer. And then Chump replied: what me and the kids. And I said yes. I wanted Chump and the kids to go away all summer and just leave me to it. Isn’t that awful? I love my family. I love my kids. I love my stupid husband. But right now, I am so blind sighted by all the shit I have to get through this summer, that I can’t think straight. I don’t think the 40 degree heat is helping. Maybe when the temperature drops to a much more manageable 35 degrees, I’ll calm down a bit. But for now, I can’t cope anymore. I’m on the verge of tears. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so tired of juggling everything.

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Age Concern

by with No Comment Health and wellbeingParenting

Right so you know I’ve been all obsessed with death lately right? Not my own. I’m not going to be here to deal with the repercussions of my own death, so I’m not worried about dying. Although, I don’t want to come back after I die, so that’s always a concern. But what I am worried about is the death of my loved ones. So I’m obsessed with the passage of time. I’m so acutely aware that every moment is the last moment that that moment will ever exist. Do you get me? Boy went away for a few days on a class trip. And I missed him so much. I felt bereft. And physically heartbroken that my child wasn’t at home. That I wasn’t able to talk to him and hold him and just see him. It actually hurt my feelings. When he came home I told him he was never allowed to leave home again and he told me he missed roblox. That’s my emotionally stunted boy! We really love each other him and I. But anyway, he’s 10 now. He’s getting big. He’s getting independent. And I don’t grudge him or his sister, my little baby Girl from growing up. As a parent it’s what you want. For your child to grow up and be happy and independent. And besides both of them are still cuddly as hell, so I’m good. But what did make me sad was watching the Platinum Jubilee and seeing Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louie getting so big. I cried for them. George and Charlotte are the same age as my babies and just seeing them so big completely freaked me out. It made me realize time is literally passing us all by. And then you know who I got really freaked out for? My parents. I mean I can’t deal with the thought. So yeah, death scares the shit out of me. I don’t want Chump to die. I mean I know he’s a dickhead and he annoys the shit out of me, but I still need him. The thought of living in this world without him is one I can’t even bear. And let’s face it, women still outlive men, so I may be kicking around for 20 -30 years after he’s gone. That’s miserable. With any luck the kids will be surrounded by their children and grandchildren and I’ll just be the lonely old lady in the corner. I will actually move in with my sister. I hope she’s ready for me. We will just be those two weird old ladies that everyone avoids because we’re old and weird. And let’s face it, ageing sucks. That’s what actually scares me the most. Ageing. Ageing is inglorious and ugly. No matter how good shape you’re in, eventually old age catches up with you and become a decrepit old person that no one wants to talk to. You can’t control your bodily functions, you have no mobility. You can barely stay awake, you have no short term memory and you’re deaf. I mean it’s an awful life. I don’t want to age. I’m not scared of dying, but I’m scared of ageing. And now I’m firmly in my 40s, I am ageing. I can see it and I can feel it. And it’s terrifying. It’s not inglorious yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I read this article about how in your 70’s your body suddenly falls apart, even though you may have been in perfect shape up until that part. It’s depressing. So yes, I’m obsessed with the passage of time. I don’t want to get old. And I don’t want anyone to die. Ok back to bothering Chump.

So what you up to today? Just chillin in the corner by myself.
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Submission

by with No Comment Health and wellbeing

So look I know I haven’t written in a while ok. Can we just skip past that for now. Because right now I feel like my brain might explode. Everything is fine in life and I’ve been generally content with life, but for the past month or so, I’ve been stressed. Like super stressed. Boy has his end of year exams and I know you’re wondering why that’s bothering me, well, because it just does. Remember this post? Well that’s why. Also, because of the exams, we haven’t really done much with our lives. We’ve pretty much steered clear of all social interactions, so that Boy can just study. It’s been No fun. So yeah, it’s a stress of my own making. I also have some other non parenting related stress that in the scheme of things is not actually a big deal. I know in 2 months, I’ll question why I let this very minor thing stress me out so much. But for now, it’s super stressing me. And here’s the thing. It’s testing me. It’s testing my ability to let go and just trust. I really do believe that the only real source of human happiness is to let go of control and just trust. In Islam, we call it submission to the will of God. But it’s not solely an Islamic concept. It’s in every major religion and philosophical movement. Isn’t this the meaning of detachment? But for some reason, I just can’t let this go. And that’s what’s bothering me. I can’t seem to self soothe. Normally I can calm myself down from these stressful episodes by just trusting in God, or whatever it is that’s controlling the universe. I am watching Conversations with Friends. Have you watched it? I hate it. I loved the book and I loved Normal People (the show and the book), but Conversations with Friends is just painful. Frances is painful. And the thing is in the book, I really liked Frances. She was relatable. But in the show, she is just insipid and I find her to be a leach. Whatever. I’m still watching the whole bloody show, but I am hating every minute of it. But one thing that Nick said really stuck with me. He was describing when he was depressed and how he couldn’t get up and he couldn’t think and it just struck me as so liberating. I’m not meaning to undermine depression. I know how debilitating it can be. But as someone who is a chronic overthinker to the point that my thoughts hold me hostage, it just felt so freeing to think I could just give up and stop thinking. And as someone who always feels the need to be productive and not give into my natural urge to just chill, I just thought how nice it would be to just acknowledge that sometimes life is too much. And I can’t deal with it. So I messaged Chump and told him I was done. I didn’t want to think anymore. I give up. I give up control. Do I feel liberated? Not really. I’m still as stressed as ever, but at least now I’m not actively trying to manage my stress. There’s a certain freedom that comes with acknowledging that we can’t always be on top of everything. That sometimes we just need to hide under our duvets and not deal with every single thing that comes up. I’m sure that tomorrow, I’ll be horrified at this way of thinking, but for today, I just can’t cope. I’m tired. I’m tired of my mind. I’m tired of the catastrophizing. I’m tired of the overthinking. The constantly trying to find solutions. The constantly trying to find the positive in everything. Some things are just shit. End of. End of this post too. Bye.

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Death

by with No Comment Uncategorized

Yeah that’s right. The dreaded D word. I feel like over the past two years we’ve practically been over exposed to death. Covid has completely changed how we interact with it. Everyday we check the number of people who have died from Covid. We’ve become obsessed with hospitalisations and deaths. Has it cheapened death? I don’t know, but over the Christmas holidays, we (actually me, Chump was my unwitting victim, bahahah) went on a Timothee Chalamet binge. We watched The King, Little Women and Don’t look up. I loved them all. Chump only realized after the fact that Timothee was in all of them. And before you tell me, I’ve already seen Lady Bird. Anyway, there was something in The King that just changed my life completely. I won’t spoil the movie for you, because you should go watch it immediately, but something that Timothee Chalamet’s character said just opened my eyes. “We are born to die”. I mean we know this right? We intellectually know we are all going to die. But do we actually really know we are going to die? It’s an inevitability. And yet it’s so far from my mind. I’m lucky. I’ve never really had to face death in my personal life. My grandparents have all passed away and it was sad, but I haven’t lost any loved ones close to me. Thank god. But one day it will happen. And I still can’t accept it. I still haven’t understood that one day we all die. I know we all die. But it’s almost like I don’t believe it. I don’t think I’m going to cheat death, but it just seems like such a remote thing right now. Of course what we don’t know is when death will hit us. We think we are all entitled to old age, but something may come for us sooner at any time. The practical reality of finally understanding this is that I can now have very logical conversations with my parents about estate planning. Before whenever they would talk to me about it, I would beg them to stop, put my fingers in my ears and just pray for them to stop talking about dying. I’ve even started talking to Chump about our estate planning needs. I know it’s all morbid and awful, but it’s a sad necessity. I’ve never really feared my own death, because I figure I won’t be around to deal with the consequences, but I do fear the death of my loved ones. I fear the grief. I fear the fear itself. The fear of being on my own. I fear all the admin involved with death. I don’t want my kids to have the fear of my death. And I don’t want them to have fears about what they will do if I die. So I think about my estate and my will. And it all comes circling back. We were born to die. Every minute we walk towards our death. So the way I see it, we can either face it and accept it and be as prepared as we possibly can be. Or we can avoid it and deny it. And then leave everyone that we love screwed. It’s tough. I will admit I’m not entirely there yet. I hate admin with a passion and getting all my shit together is no mean feat. I mean when you’re as disorganized as me, it’s a proper pain in the backside. I’m also trying to keep my wardrobes free of clutter and I look at some of my accumulations and think : will the kids just throw this out when I die? if the answer is yes and I don’t need that thing anymore, then I just get rid of it. I don’t want to burden my kids with clearing out all my clutter. And to be clear, I’m not dying. I don’t think. So don’t be freaked out. All this is a roundabout way of saying I’m trying to keep my house clean and tidy and sort out all my paperwork.

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Panic stations

by with No Comment Health and wellbeing

So here we are again, another Christmas effectively ruined by Covid. Although this time, nobody has actively ruined it, except for our own fear and panic. Ok yes Omicron is here. Omicron seems to be incredibly transmissible, but all evidence seems to show that it’s relatively mild. Oh my god. Let’s panic. Let’s shut life down. Why all the panic? I was really looking forward to Christmas this year. It just magically fell on a Saturday which meant that Monday and Tuesday would be bank holidays. This is the dream ticket. Normally we do both families on Christmas and Boxing Day which gets kind of intense, but entirely fun and something we all really look forward to. But then having to go to work the day after Boxing Day sucks. So actually having two bank holidays to recover is beyond awesome. But of course this year, we have the threat of yet another lockdown looming over us. It’s dismal. But still, we get to have Christmas right? Wrong. Our Christmas day plans have been cancelled. Why? Because of fear of a virus. And I am a mixture of sad and mad. I don’t even know what to think anymore. I don’t want to catch Covid. I don’t want to transmit Covid. I don’t want my parents or kids to have Covid. But the reality is Covid is here. Are we supposed to live in fear forever now? Everybody who needs to be vaccinated and boosted has been vaccinated and boosted. And if you haven’t been vaccinated and boosted, then go and do that. So what are we supposed to do? Are we supposed to cancel life forever more? Never go out and see friends or do anything? I don’t know. It seems like that’s what people want to do. They want us to do nothing. And sometimes that’s fine and I like doing nothing, but it can’t be the default position. It’s not mentally healthy. It’s not mentally healthy to be told to test twice a day, when we have no symptoms. It’s not healthy to make us feel like our kids are disease vectors and the only way they can be seen by people they love is if they are locked up at home not interacting with the world. What is all of this doing to our sense of safety and security? We are social animals. That’s how we were built. We were built to interact. We all know that loneliness is a proper health issue. So why are we ignoring the mental health benefits of interaction. Anyway, just my rant for the day.

No fun

by with No Comment Uncategorized

I had a slight wobble on Friday when I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. I promptly texted Chump and told him we never had any fun anymore. He promptly ignored me because he was at work and I dealt with my existential crisis alone. Or did I? I’m still in a funk. Now, of course parenting is fun. I mean you get to be around little people who are funny and imaginative. But it’s also drudgery. You know all that. I write about it extensively for god’s sake. But when I look at my life, I think I’m in my early 40s (ffs), I have my health, I have friends (I think), I have family. I have a career. Yet I have no fun in my life. Why? Because all I do is parenting, work, exercise and family. I love exercise. It makes me feel good. It’s a non negotiable in my life. But it takes up so much of my time and mental energy. Especially because I tie exercise in with diet. Because I think I’m chubby, I have to watch what I eat and exercise like a mofo, just to stay this level of chubby. It’s soul destroying. Know what I mean? I mean I exercise because I enjoy it, but there’s also a lot of guilt attached to it too. Oh I ate some chocolate, therefore I must workout. Chump thinks I have body dysmorphia. I probably do. Great, I’ll just add it to my growing list of mental health disturbances. I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I probably look like a normal person. But in my mind, I look like an elephant. It’s brutal. It means my life is taken over by what I eat and how much I move. Ok, anyway, that’s only one tiny aspect of my current predicament. Since I have kids, I have scheduled my life down to a tee. We are on such a militarily precise schedule that if we deviate even a little bit, it drives me into a tail spin. Which means that I can’t go off grid and just do something because I want to. It’s a depressing way to live frankly. And I know what you’re thinking – I have scheduled it all myself. But if I don’t have this schedule, life would be too chaotic. Laundry wouldn’t get done. Homework wouldn’t get done. Activities would be missed. It’s too much for my OCD brain to handle. So I schedule the shit out of my life. I’m just not having fun right now. Poor Chump, when he got home from work, he told me he booked a day off and we were going out. He took me out of my schedule. Stopped me from doing my precious exercise and from the rigidity of the life I’ve created for myself. I’m hoping that the Christmas holidays will also lighten my mental load a bit too. No school, no laundry, nowhere to be, but home. I’ll still exercise compulsively because I’m psycho, but hopefully I will be liberated from everything else. Ok bye.

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oh man. not again

by with No Comment Parenting

Sometimes I find this whole parenting shit show too intense. You know? It’s like a million questions all the time. You have to give your kids all the love and attention you have and frankly it leaves so little in the tank for you. I’m exhausted man. I’m not going to lie. Parenting is fracking tiring. And if I can be completely honest with you, I suck at it. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I listen to them day and night. They are well fed and well cared for. All their needs are met. I think they’re happy and well adjusted. And this should be an achievement in and of itself. Right? Because there are sadly so many kids in the world who just don’t have stability and love. And trigger warning here, but there are kids who are so badly abused and neglected that it’s heartbreaking. But every now and then I’m left questioning why I became a parent. Now I know it’s all voodoo and hippie, but I believe that kids choose their parents. So my kids chose me. Why? I’m a shit parent. I hate doing laundry, I find parenting a drag. I just look at other mothers out there who are so good at it and it comes effortlessly to them and then I think, holy shit I suck at this. I’m also somebody who believes very strongly in good enough parenting. I don’t have to be a perfect parent to be a good parent, but sometimes the pressure is so intense you know? For example, I hate arts and crafts. Like with a passion. I don’t like mess. So when Girl asks me to paint with her or do something artsy, it really sends me into a spin. But other mums just sit there and do papier mache as though the world depended on it. I love reading. Ask me to read a book to you and I’m there. I also love watching tv with my kids. It’s relaxing. But TV is so stigmatized. Once Boy, when he was 3.5 years old blurted out to all the other parents at his nursery, that we watch a lot of tv together and I swear, the looks of disdain we got from all the other parents was horrific. I was mortified. But I do love watching tv and I love watching tv with the kids. We cuddle on the sofa, we eat snacks. It’s a beautiful thing. But even Chump judges me for the tv watching. Can’t you find another way of entertaining the kids he asks. No, I can’t. Not one that doesn’t involve huge amounts of fighting and arguing. I saw something on some media platform, but because I’m old, I can’t remember where I saw it, but it basically said that kids’ fondest memories of their parents are when they just sat on the sofa, had a makeshift dinner and watched tv. But to any parent, that feels like a fail. Why didn’t I make you a home cooked meal. Why didn’t we eat at the table like civilized people? Parenting is all so loaded. It’s so emotionally and morally loaded. It’s too much for my teeny tiny overwhelmed brain to handle. There are days when I wait for the real parents to turn up. You know the ones who can magic up dinner from whatever is left in the fridge, have the laundry done and folded and put away. Play games with the kids and entertain them without a screen and without screaming and have a house that is spotless. They are the real parents. I am the pretend parent. The one the kids got a raw deal with. Basically, I want my parents to take over. They are obviously the real parents here. The pros. There’s been some studies that show that grandmothers are more in love with their grandkids than their own children. This is definitely true in my case. And my kids love their grandmothers. I look at my mum and I think how on earth did she do it? I must have sucked as a kid. I suck as an adult, so there’s no doubt in my mind that I was a pain in the ass kid. Just ask my sister. She’ll tell you. But yet I always remember my mum and dad having infinite patience with me. Hot, fresh food on the table. And just being loved. So deeply loved. I’m not writing this post for sympathy or for you to tell me oh don’t worry you’re a great mum. I’m just writing today because parenting is bloody hard. And I just felt like saying it. Ok bye.

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Going nuclear

by with No Comment Health and wellbeingParenting

So I’m in a real procrastinating mood today. I Should be writing my stupid book, but I can’t be bothered. I don’t know if you can tell, but my writing style is quite disjointed and rambling, so writing a novel is super hard for me, because I just can’t seem to get to the point. My novel will end up being 890 pages and no one will know what it’s supposed to be about. This is hard for me. I need to just write and progress the plot, but I really like narratives and character development. The funny thing is when I read that in somebody else’s book, I get super mad and if you happen to be sitting next to me while I’m reading, you’ll frequently hear me mutter to myself : “yes but what’s the point. Oh my god, just hurry and up and get to the point.” So I’m trying to bring my critical eye to my writing, which is super hard, because then I just don’t want to write. So today, I have spent all morning searching for language classes on the internet. I have no intention of actually learning a new language, I just like the idea of thinking I can learn something like Aramaic or Sanskrit or something like that. And I have also come across this article on the Guardian, about how nuclear families don’t really work and actually the old and traditional way of raising children in an extended family setting or village type setting is a hell of a lot easier on families. I mean it all makes sense right? Why have we moved away from the traditional setting of “it takes a village“. Credit to Hillary. She was right man. It does take a village and yet we view it as a mark of honour and independence that we can parent by ourselves. That we don’t need help. That we can do it all. We are supermoms! But are we? I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted. My kids are older. It’s not as physically intense, but it’s still emotionally intense. There is shit loads of laundry to do all the time. Parenting is a drag. It takes its toll on your relationships. I feel inadequate all the time. Like I’m always racing to catch up. And I never can. But what if we accepted that we don’t have to do it all? I know conceptually we agree with it takes a village, but why do we not actually put it into action? Why don’t we embrace the concept of communal raising of our families? The thought of moving in with our parents is terrifying for us. We worked so hard to move out! We can just barely afford to buy our houses and once we have we want to live in our hard earned houses completely independently. {By the way I’m not a millennial, but even whey I look at house prices for normal houses, they are beyond ridonculous}. But then we are miserable. Because we are so tired and we are stretched so thin. And the very same people we worked so hard to get our independence from need us now more than ever. And then we realize it was a mistake that we moved so far away from our parents. We need to be closer to them so we can look after them and make sure they have a dignified old age. We’ve done this whole adulting thing wrong if you ask me. It takes a village to raise a family and keep a family together. It takes a village to keep our elderly happy and healthy. The nuclear family is a great set up for tv, but it’s not actually a great set up for reality. So today, I called my mommy and I asked her if we could come over for dinner. It made her happy, it made my kids happy and most importantly, it’s actually made me happy.