Just to clarify...

I wrote this post when I was mad at Lil's father, which seems to be quite often at the moment. I'm not sure if it's because he just doesn't get how hard things can be during the day or because of the mental hormones that are still raging around my body. Who knows? Either way, I felt the need to clarify a few things so I did. And I'm pretty sure other Mums feel the need to clarify the following, too...

Yeah, I went to bed at 11pm and woke up at 8:30. But that does not mean I got nine and a half hours of sleep. Oh no. Because while you were snoring in the other room, I was up at least four times in the night feeding our newborn / seeing to our teething toddler / trying to calm down a hysterical child who was just eaten by monsters in her nightmare.

This shit hole you come home to every night... Well shit hole it ain't, darlin'. For if I was to leave the housework all day and not tidy up after our sweet little child, you'd see exactly what a shit hole looked like. 

The wine I'm knocking back in the kitchen? That isn't a celebratory bottle after a day of successful potty training. Nuh uh, that right there is what happens when your child tries to break me. Every. Fucking. Day.

You had a long, shitty day? Oh baaaabe. You work with a bunch of tossers? You're tired and hungry? Let me just fetch you some dinner... HOLD UP. I have long, shitty days too. And I have experience with tossers except one tosser stands about this high and calls me Mummy and I'm looking at the other one right now. I'm fucking tired from being up all night and haven't had a chance to eat all day because that tosser* has run me ragged. So go boo hoo somewhere else.

Calm down? CALM DOWN? I blast my body with hormones so I don't find myself in pregnancy hell again and you want me to calm down? You think I can control my moods? Do you? How about I'm done fucking my body up. It's your turn. No more injectable hormones or any hormones for that matter. It's time for you to have a little operation...

You know how I'm always moaning about the fact I have nothing to wear? Do you know why that is, Mr I own 10 pairs of jeans, 8 shirts and countless t-shirts??? Because I don't. Go take a look in my wardrobe, go on. Now look in the kids wardrobe. And yours. Now give me your credit card. Mama needs, DESERVES some new clothes. You forget I don't get paid a salary. Hell, it would seem I don't even get paid in love or affection anymore. PAYRISE. In clothes.

*I don't think my child is a tosser. Not all of the time anyway. My husband, however...