Want To Know Why I Haven't Posted Anything Recently?

You’d think God would be kinder to me. I mean, s/he’s thrown half a dozen significant earthquakes at me in the past nine months (hell, by comparison even pregnancy’s fun), and we’re being put through thousands of aftershocks, not to mention the loss of job security. Our city’s broken. Isn’t that enough?

I took on a part-time job. Just a little one. Hell, it barely even counts as a job! But it’s enough to let us have takeaways on a Friday night without a dose of the guilts – and that, folks, is a Big Deal for us just now.

A real job! Excellent idea, I thought. Beloved agreed. The cosmos, apparently, did not.

Within days (it felt like hours), our home turned into a House Of Ill. Drop the ‘Repute’ bit at the end – we’ve been so ill we haven’t had the energy for anything that exciting!

Little Miss Two – croup. Deduct one week.

Little Miss Two – gastro virus. Deduct two days.

Little Miss Two – croup (again). Deduct one week.

Master Seven – croup. Deduct four days.

Me – gastro virus. Deduct two days.

Little Miss Two – bronchio-freakin’-litis, for crying out loud! Deduct one looooong week.

Beloved – sprained ankle. Deduct zero days. No time for sympathy pampering, because…

Master Seven – serious infection. Hospitalisation. Deduct one night’s sleep.

Master Seven – severe nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea brought on by vicious, kill-the-bug-and-you-with-it antibiotics. Deduct five days.

And somewhere in the middle of all that I have to meet a major deadline in my new job and find time to write.

Guess what fell off the list? (Sigh.)

Post-script. Oh. My. God. Little Miss Two has come down with another cold. If it turns into croup, so help me, I’ll turn to drugs. For me, not her.

Am I the only one this kind of stuff happens to? Please, if life does this to you too - share it with me! Let me know I'm not the only one the cosmos is punishing. Give me permission to overdose on chocolate - or suggest an even better way of drowning my sorrows. :)

Yummy Mummies Take A Hike!

I blame the camping. Before camping I was functional. BC I was coping with life. BC I was zen mother and loving it. (Okay, maybe not the zen bit.)

And now? Now it ain't pretty. Yummy Mummy? Hardly. Scrummy Mummy? Not at my place. Instead we have a Real Mummy scale, modelled on the richter scale with slightly less catastrophic results. And I can tell you right now that "scrummy" and "yummy" don't feature (except in the Mummy's-gorging-herself-on-food-again sense).

Here it is. The Real Mummy scale:

1  Dummy Mummy - Nappy brain has taken over. Thinking hurts. Serious thinking brings on anxiety attacks. Even a trip to the supermarket represents a threat to your (barely-firing) neurons.
2  Glummy Mummy - It's too late to shove the kid back in, demand a refund, or get an exchange card. This is your lot. Sleepless nights, sick on your shoulder, sex deprivation (worse, you're happy with that) and a life that doesn't feel like your own. Forever. You've got every damn right to feel sad. Wallow in it, Girlfriend.
3  Crummy Mummy - You've decided you suck as a mum. You're grumpy, you're tired, you still haven't worked out what your baby wants, the washing's been on the line since last Friday, and you haven't vacuumed in a month. It's baked beans for tea again, and don't you think you should get back to work and bring in some money?
4  Numb-y Mummy - It's been so long since you had a full night's sleep you've forgotten what it feels like. In fact, feeling is an optional extra that just doesn't fit into your life right now. You're so tired you can't even rouse the energy to cry.
5  Tummy Mummy - No matter how hard you try for the Yummy Mummy I'm- already-back-in-skinny-jeans image, you've got a spare tyre - no, a flat spare tyre - hanging off your waist. Liposuction sounds good, only it costs way too much and it won't shrink your saggy baggy skin. This isn't what you signed up for, this doesn't feel like your body, and you wish it would all just go away.
6  Rummy Mummy - Okay, so it ain't good for the quality of your breastmilk, but it sure helps calm the (frayed) nerves. It also helps you forget about your tummy (see 5 above) for a short time.
7  Hummy Mummy - It's official: things are really bad. Random tuneless humming indicates a) your brain-cells have completely broken down (what song are you humming, anyway?) and b) your sanity is in serious doubt. Maybe it's time to take a wee break. A week or two on a deserted beach with a good book, plenty of your favourite drink, and no hint of kids should do it.

Sound familiar?