Mummyfried

Not unlike other paid and unpaid working mummies, my human fuel tank has its needle stuck somewhere between exhausted and seriously exhausted to the point of vague. My batteries are rarely recharged.  My spark plugs like my home, need a good dusting and once over. I often leave for work before my babies are awake and return home just before their bedtime. It is awful. Below are ten confessions that I suspect many paid and unpaid working mums relate to - but perhaps rarely admit to: 1. The ankle biters do not take baths every night 2. I don't know if they really brush their teeth every day - despite threatening them that if they don't brush their teeth, they will fall out 3. I empower my children by giving them options:  'Brush your teeth, or they will fall out. You choose'. 4. I clean only what I can see, on the weekends 5. I iron only the ankle biters clothes because I don't want them going to nursery being the scruffy untidy kids 6. I don't iron m...

I suffer from PTSD. Yes, another ailment to add to my many. No, I have never thankfully been in the line of true fire, and the following does not intend to be disrespectful to anyone that has ...but being back in work environment occasionally gives me flashbacks to a work environment of a few years ago.  And the story goes like this... I sit at my desk and feel my heart beat faster each time she walks past my office. I wonder why, at age with years of experience under my belt I experience such a knee jerk, projectile vomit, knot in my tummy reaction when my eyes follow her as she strides by. I loathe every moment I have to interact with her. The trenches were dug and war announced before I even had time to warm my desk chair. This woman had her war cry entrenched in her psyche years before she joined this work battlefield. She has 'Warning, Armed Mean Person' tattooed on her forehead. I observe her guarding the CEO's office, waiting, watching for her opportunity t...

This week I threw caution to the wind and let myself go. I felt free, limitless, unchained and alive. I averaged on about three mini snickers bars a day. I breathed out and let my stomach just hang. I challenged myself to think on my feet, I forced myself to decide within three minutes, what to wear to work each morning. I let nature take over in the hair (facial and on head) and nail department. I worked back - very late, concentrating on work, rather then wondering how the girls and Mr Lucky were coping without me. There was no guilt. I let the house rest, there were no daily after work whirlwind, guerrilla style tidy up drills. While on my lunch break, rushing to get another snickers bar, I spotted my reflection in a shop window. This unkept, tummy hanging over belt, jeans too long for chosen shoes, helmet haired, dangerously close to having a mono brow person had gone too far. I forgot the snickers, returned to the office with my tummy sucked in. I tied my helme...

Since 1 January 2015 and perhaps a little before then, I have been missing in action (MIA). Aside from close friends, Mr Lucky and the ankle biters noticing, my MIA status suggests the following state of play: 1. Every one else has started the new year with much gusto and madness and they haven't had time to notice I am missing. Let's face it,  2015 to date has been operating on warp speed - I haven't had time to notice if anyone else is missing too. 2. My stats regarding my readership or followers are incorrect - nobody reads my blog.  I don't really want to explore this further but there is an ever so slight suggestion (I really hope not) that my blogs are.... floating in dead, unread, uninteresting space in the WebSphere. In January I submitted a public service contract role application and got the job. The job, while mostly in English, requires Greek. This, like my readership statistics is a challenge and requires some attention. Also since January I: Packe...