Mummyfried

Below are key messages I would like to deliver to management... That's right, to Mummyfried (the boss of the boss:  my own alter ego)  the big boss upstairs, the vertically challenged bosses I gave birth to, the bosses at the paid place of employment:  To Mummyfried:  Stop the 60 -70 working week and dreams about really being a tall, blonde, athletically thin, dedicated houseproud yummy mummy and fabulous friend. It's not working. Take a stand. Get to it and sort it out. (Stop being a slave to the system, eating, and start exercising! the rest will follow). To the ankle-biter bosses: The days of empty threats are over. You fail to pick up, I promise to throw out!  My feet deserve a lego free walking path environment!  To the boss upstairs. Give me a break. Please? Like, a real one? A lottery ticket, a wealthy uncle who wants to hand it all over, a warm hug, and some hot chocolate? Please? Don't carry me leaving footprints in the sand, if I fail to act on th...

My GP,  a smoking during the consultation, 'free' for a 30E fee isn't a bad guy. He has offered advice and helped me out during emergencies.  He is the sort of man that will jump in if you ask, pay, and promote him. A 'pay me back for my chivalry' type of character.  The sort of man that thinks throwing flowers at singers at Greek Clubs known as the bouzoukia (you have to attend to appreciate this description) is charming, not sleazy. He is however. a good doctor. I usually visit without makeup, sporting a comfy 'at-home' relaxed look. These medical appointments with a guilt-free zero effortless and style-less appearance, when I am unwell are in my mind  - largely expected and understandable. Over the last year or so, he has caught on to my woes & offered support, and if I needed it, intervention.  As noted earlier, he is a good doctor, and I don't think my 'natural look ' influenced his extra care attention.   Walking out of these these cons...

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...

The children are playing independently, I have an opportunity to meet my personal deadline for a blog. I am stuck for what to write. The last two weeks I have been lying awake between 1 am and 6 am, my mind swirling with ideas, funny anecdotes, plans for adventures. And today, now that I have time and space to think.. nothing. This state of paralysis has to to with the fact that last night, for the first time in a long time, I fell into such a deep slumber, despite sharing a single bed with Little Miss that the back of my nose and throat are sore after a deep heartfelt and continuous snore. I silently breathe a sigh of relief. I am currently sporting a Madonna 80's hairstyle. The no longer subtle regrowth, hair in desperate need of a cut and treatment, combined with a constant snore can't be attractive. Mr Lucky hasn't noticed (rather commented - that is why he is Mr Lucky).  The sigh has slowly turned from relief to worry. Having had a good night sleep means ...