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Sex after kids: sometimes you can’t be f*cked

March 24, 2019March 24, 2019 ~ eenie meenie miney mum ~ 1 Comment

the truth OK, so you might have heard a lot about how “parent sex” is basically what happens in the bathroom with the door locked in the 5 minutes the kids are distracted by ABC2.

I’m not gonna lie though, Continue reading →

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On the verge of having all three [!! yes three !!] of my small humans in school next week, pondering the notion of what it will be like to have a clean house again. Lol. No I won’t. Planning to spend first two weeks languishing on couch eating snacks out in the open with no one to share them with or complain that “mummy gets to eat chocolate whenever she likes but we don’t”. No one to loudly question “ARE YOU DOING A POO???” when I’m availing myself of the facilities in a public rest room. Instead, mornings will involve me braiding hair while someone’s screaming, putting three different fillings in three different sandwiches that literally no one will eat, arriving everywhere late and hoping to avoid any and all school mums who hate me [a surprising amount, to be fair].

My husband has just informed me that one day our children will read my Instagram captions and thank goodness because this is the closest thing to a baby book that I have. One day they’re going to be really pleased to read that on the 19th of January 2020 I likened my attempts at disciplining them to those SALE emails you get before Christmas warning you that you only have absolutely “one last chance” and then hours later receiving another email that says “good news, you have another chance!”.

As always, school holidays are a stark reminder that parenting is easy if you: ⠀ ⠀ 1. Hate sleep⠀ 2. Crave ill-informed feedback you didn’t ask for ⠀ 3. Can pull snacks out of thin air ⠀ 4. Enjoy going on pub crawls. And by that I mean pub...lic toilet crawls⠀ 5. Can name every species of bug⠀ 6. Don’t mind 95% of your meal planning revolving around plain pasta with cheese

⁣Tryna to look nice but you haven’t slept in five years 🤷‍♀️😂⠀ ⠀ That’s right folks, hell hath frozen over and I actually went out last night with the man I married, like real human adults with hopes and dreams and the ability to be in a social environment without holding someone’s chewed up food in your hand. ⠀ ⠀ Despite being in bed by 11:30pm, today at home alone with my children is like a human survival experiment I’m failing at. ⠀ ⠀ And I’m so unused to going out without my children, last night I cut up the chicken of the person next to me out of sheer habit. #notawkward ⠀ ⠀ Followed by this morning’s regular session of stating the obvious. ⠀ ⠀ “Well, you’re up early.”⠀ ⠀ -me to my children every day since they were born. ⠀ ⠀ Backing up a late night on the d-floor by hanging out all day with a small, irritable army you made yourself really shows you what you’re made of. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Currently I’m made of coffee, rage and an altogether inappropriate amount of screen time. ⠀⠀ ⠀ Send halp. Or a someone to walk around behind me everywhere I go for the foreseeable future holding a ribbon wall because that’s now my desired aesthetic.⠀

So what I was originally going for in my internal vision boarding for this shot [swipe left] was “exhausted by the festive season” and now that I look at it i see how much it actually looks like I passed out drunk in a garden bed. This is why I can’t style my house; no ability to visualise. 🤣🤣🤣

First we should discuss what a solid, bad-ass-bitch burn it was when Mariah said “I don’t want a lot for Christmas” and then followed it up with “all I want for Christmas is you”. Gurl, yes. And secondly, can I also say the “genius” “marketing tool” that was the fucking elf to scare the children into behaving during the festive season is a total and utter bullshitting FARCE!!! I don’t know what the fuck our elf thinks he’s going back to tell Father Judgy McJudge Face every night but pretty sure everyone else in my family is getting gifts this Christmas and I’m getting fat. She says, with a pile of smiths original chips legit sitting ON her stomach as she writes this, shedding errant crumbs into her bellybutton. And now i’m that asshole that talks about herself in the third person. Oy vay. Anyhooo, this years Xmas flex for me is telling my husband that gifts I’ve bought myself across the year were “my Christmas present” but still secretly expecting a Christmas present. Let’s see how that works out for me. And also for him. 🤣🎅🏼

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