Today I Chucked a Mummy Mental

Kids have tantrums. Mum's have the equivalent. It's called a Mummy Mental. I am sure you have either witnessed one of these acts in progress or been the bearer of a Mummy Mental.

We had a rather crap interesting Easter Sunday. We are all recovering from Bronchilititis and I was feeling spectacularly sh*thouse after taking two Nurofen Cold and Flu. That stuff used to be the shiz for me. It used worked a treat. I don't know what happened but now it has me passing out with tiredness and drooling like a teething child. Drowsy much? Totally.

This morning I told the children to go outside and eat their chocolate. There are bags of the stuff. My approach when it comes to Easter is to eat it all NOW. Eat it quick and be done with it. I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want to be picking up goddamn foil wrappers for the next 6 months. It's like limiting the damage. It's a shit few days but you get over it and I go back to being a chocolate stingy for the other 362 days of the year.

I went to change a nappy or something. Turn my back for 2 minutes. I look around. There is chocolate everywhere. Smudged on the lounge. Half chewed and spat out chocolate on the floor. The bi-fold windows which get cleaned every 12 months or when we just can't see out of them anymore (which ever comes first), had smears of chocolate all over them. I cleaned them 2 days ago. NOT HAPPY. I hate cleaning. Make me clean unnecessarily and I will be pissed. There is no turning back.

The Mummy Mental was brewing, my eyes glaze over. I start to shake. And then it unleashed.

It goes something like this "AHHHHHHH GRRRRRR HISSSSSSSSSS RAANNNNNTTT" I try not to swear in front of the children but this is a difficult task when I have my cranky pants on.

Now the Mummy Mental occurs when the Shit-I-Can-Handle spectrum reaches complete f*cking overload and the little ticker launches into outerspace. Seeing chocolate smudged in all forms all over my clean house is about as much as I can handle.

The Mummy Mental has the children begging for mercy and screaming that I LOVE YOU MUMMM!!!!! It is a force to be reckoned with. The only way to turn it off is to leave the house.  Eat very badly. Knock down a bottle of Vodka.  Scream at your husband or take a long shower.

So I took a shower. Yelled at my husband and ate some waffles drowning in Maple Syrup. Or did I eat Maple Syrup drowning in waffles. Not sure. I felt better. And the Shit-I-Can-Handle spectrum was reset and normality returned.

This is not me. This is another Mother having a Mummy Mental. Or so she thinks. This is not a Mummy Mental, rather a mild case of the shits (she looks too good and her face isn't red from screaming).

Easter Madness and The Adventures of Craptastic Chocolate

Easter in this house sucks the Easter Bunny's gout infested right foot.

It sucks due to the following equation:

Chocolate + Small Children = Extreme Feralness

I see you nod your head in agreeance. No?

Now. Easter f*ck-up-ed-ness continues with the following equation:

Aussie Easter + Orthodox Easter = Shitload of chocolate = Me, wondering what the hell I am going to do with it all.

Ok so technically that wasn't an equation. From my limited knowledge of mathematics, you cannot have two equal signs in an equation. Apparently.

Most years we partake in TWO EASTERS. Yes, we have not one. But Two. Easters. Normal Easter like you guys and then because my family is Greek, we celebrate Orthodox Easter which mostly falls on a different day. Lets call it the Festival of Easter. It's exhausting. Because we are presented twice in one year with the presence of feral children, an abundance of chocolate and Craptastic Chocolate. What is Craptastic chocolate I hear you say? Glad you asked. Let me clarify.

Craptastic Chocolate (or CC as it is affectionately called in our household) can be defined as edible confectionary that looks like chocolate, but when you eat it, tastes like sh*t. Traditionally, Craptastic Chocolate is a brand of chocolate which is NOT Cadbury, Red Tulip, Nestle or Lindt. It's THOSE other brands that have been sneaked onto the shelves.

This shiz is nasty.

I was at Woolies yesterday and the lady in front of me appears to have done her entire Easter Shop in one go. And good on you for being all organised and stuff. It was all Craptastic Chocolate. Down to the last itty bitty small Easter Eggie. All crap.

So it got me wondering as it does, my brain is a small place but when it gets its rant on, there's just is no stopping it.

Does she like Craptastic chocolate? Can she not tell the difference? Does she buy it because it is cheap? Has she not realised the error? Was she wooed by the elaborate packaging of Craptastic Chocolate to distract from its disgusting-ness? I just cannot understand why anyone would buy it, when it tastes bloody horrible. Life is too short people to be eating chocolate that lingers in your mouth 5 days after the initial consumption.

Now while I have my ranty pants on I would like to state the following.

Why does Easter Chocolate (not just Craptastic Chocolate) have such a limited expiry on it. The stuff only lasts until June. If you're lucky. That is f*cked up right there. When do they make this shit? Easter last year? WTF. The stuff doesn't last. If it did you would have the entire years worth of chocolate consumption covered by Easter. Chocolate companies know this and that is why they only last a few months. They want you to throw it out or stuff it down your gob as quick as you can, so you can go get some fresh stuff. A*seholes.

Am I missing anything? What do you hate about Easter? Because there is nothing to love. Surely?

The First Born Story

September 2006

"I DON'T CARE JUST GET IT OOOOUUUUT OF MEEEEE!!! NOW!"

I was 41 weeks pregnant with my first child, lying in the Observation Room at the local hospital. I had come in to be induced the night before. All had not gone according to plan.

They could not induce me.

I didn't know it but I was already in the early stages of labour. I was hooked up to the Foetal Monitor. My contractions were coming regularly. This was news to me. I couldn't feel them. I just felt normal. Well, I felt oversized, fat, frumpy and ready to explode, but still somewhat "normal". Things were just not progressing.

My pregnancy had been very normal up until then. Taking maternity leave at 32 weeks and sleeping for 9 weeks until the baby arrived was a definite highlight. What I didn't know was that those weeks of sleep, prepared me for the following 4 YEARS of pregnancy and child related sleep deprivation. As I grew closer to my due date, my stomach took on an identity of its own. My body became the human embodiment of an overstuffed free range chook. In addition, I consumed more Choc Milk in nine months than the entire locality of Perth. I was singlehandedly responsible for bringing the supply and demand equation out of balance and, as a consequence the price had risen accordingly. Husband was not impressed.

I had big plans for the birth of my first child. I was opting for a labour as "natural" as totally possible. I may want drugs. I wasn't sure. After all, I had never ejected a small person from my body before. But one thing was for sure. I did not want a Caesarian.

And yet, here I was at 41 weeks begging for one. Anything. Just to get the baby out. We had tried everything. Long waddles around the neighbourhood had me insanely buggered. Hot curries were yummy but were without result. Drinking Raspberry Leaf Tea had me gagging and spewing a bit in my mouth every time.

It was a bit like a nightclub when no one's drunk. Nothing was happening. Things weren't progressing. My doctor recommended a C-Section. He had concerns that the baby was large. He became worried that I may be in labour longer than Delta Goodrem was romantically involved with that twat Brian McFadden. Too long. Labour may end badly with a C-section anyway. I felt I had been pregnant for eternity. It couldn't be over quick enough. I took his advice. I was booked into surgery.

I counted every second. Every minute. Every hour. I was anxious. Jittery. Mostly stabby. There was a delay with the surgery. Another half and hour. Then another. Finally. They wheeled me in.

Ready for my C-Section. Very unimpressed. Luckily you can't see my ass hanging out of the back of this gown

Then there was a significant EPIDURAL FAIL. Also known as "The Horror Story" where someone. ME. Got poked repeatedly with a big f*cking needle. The doctor couldn't find the right "spot"(his words). Retorted with "Are you actually a GODAMN doctor?" (my words). I ended up having a Spinal Block instead which works in a similar way. Things were underway. FINALLY.

And she was born. A little girl. 8 pounds 2 ounces. She was born with a dark mop of hair, and a very olive complexion like her dad.

She cried for three days straight. Then we realised she was hungry and needed to be fed. Oops. Sorry 'bout that.

Fresh as fresh can be. A bit sleepy. Sadly, this wasn't a sign of things to come.

When we got her home she then cried for the best part of 6 weeks. Then we found out she had Reflux. Those were some tough times. But they were shortlived and yes it was hard, but she was happy and healthy and we were ecstatic to have her. A beautiful, milky, smiley little person. A daughter. MY daughter.

Our little family as it was back then.. My hair is unwashed. I have sleep in my eyes. Thankfully you can't tell.

Big Girl is turning 5 this year. She now has a little brother and a baby sister. She is a beautiful and smart little girl with a very healthy appetite. This may be attributed (in part) to encountering starvation in the first few days of life.

We love you Big Girl x

I have entered this post to win an award on Torks Blog. He is an expectant father and an all round cool dude with a hot ass. Good luck with the baby Tork. I have some wise words for you. GET SOME SLEEP.