A conversation on twitter yesterday got me thinking about my 21st. In Australia the big parties seem to be the 18th, 21st and then the decades there after. My 18th was pretty non event so I was holding out for my 21st. The universe however had other ideas. I was 6 months pregnant with Devil Spawn for my 21st so my birthday was a no alcohol for me event. I wanted to just go to the local pool and laze around in my giant pregnant state but apparently that was unfair to all of my other able to drink guests. Whatevs
It’s Friday again wooo! We all know what that means! It means it’s time for the weekly whinge fest that is FFS Friday. I haven’t left the house for most of the week due to being sick (FFS) but somehow the world still managed to piss me off!
The trouble with being a grown up is that, well, you have to make phone calls all of the time. Regardless of whether you want to or not. Me, I try all other avenues of contact before making a phone call. Even sweeping problems under the rug and pretending they don’t exist.
I think it’s time I bit the bullet and talking to a ‘professional’ about it. Every day feels like the worst day of my life. I spend most of the day either in tears, sleeping to escape or yelling. This is no way for DS to live. I don’t want him remembering his childhood as having been peppered with anger.