Day One

This is day one of my blog. I wrote it some time ago, but I think it is still a good place to start.

Welcome to my blog.

Sunday

a rare quiet Sunday...

Ok, so here’s the thing. I’m standing in Big W looking at the books, 'how to have a tidy house' (doesn't tell you how to change the hoarders you live with, so probably not worth the $20), 'how to save money' (just discovered the partner is spending $50-100 per week on lunches and outings – on top of coffees- with god knows who) so not so fussed about being as financially efficient as I should be right now, I'm more about working out what I could possibly send the equivalent on!

Then I see them, the books I should have written, “why mummy swears, why mummy drinks, and why mummy doesn’t give a f**k”. While iv been winging and whining and contemplating how to become a writer and thinking that documenting the daily trappings of joyous parenthood and marriage would make for a great book, somebody much more sensible and technologically savvy than me has been doing it. She not only stole my idea but implemented it! Ggrr. And what’s worse is that from the little I read, they are actually quite funny.

So where does this leave me?

No career, halfway through a masters that still may not lead to massive pay rise and ginormous career/job satisfaction, marriage on the rocks and on the verge of a complete mental health breakdown… oh and I am not just middle aged, I'm heading out of middle age to the seniors card years…. Treacherous years ahead. Potential living in my car, ..oh yeah, that’s leased, ….. and not in my name.

Then, as I cant go out because I am heinously ill with the relentless cough that has me doubled over and gagging every few minutes, no sleep, every muscle in my body aching from the coughing-gym workout, I finally get around to watching Hannah Gadsby. How amazing is she? If she can give up comedy and find a new path, then surely, I can too.

I am a white, heterosexual, middle class woman. I am so privileged, and I know it. I have led a relatively sheltered life, been fortunate enough to have only a had a couple of horrendous sexual encounters that I had not consented to, and aside from years of IVF really no other horrendous background to give me any kudos at all.

I’m just your typical, middle class mum who had kids too late in life and now wonder WTF was I thinking.

Right, so now we know where I’m coming from

I’m just a nobody, (well I did just get an AMAZING mark on my group assignment for uni last week, but we can say that most of that was probably thanks to my colleagues who were great and enthusiastic and awesome and engaged and keen and good to work with, and I maybe made up the last 10-15%) who has decided, (well I decided years ago) to write a blog, but this time actually write it.

And its great. Its going to be great. If only in knew how to write a blog.

I don’t even know how to look up or follow a blog, let alone write one. So best I approach someone for some help with that. But in the meantime sitting here on a very rare Sunday afternoon in which I am home alone with my most writerly and easy (yet most horrendously screaming banshee) child who seems to similarly be enjoying peace and quite and the absence of siblings, and we are outside, yes outside, sitting at the table from which I have cleaned and removed several months collection of possum pooh, and we are simultaneously at our laptops engaged in the art of writing. Well aren’t we just highbrow?!

So apparently, I write much more quickly than her, but she has computer skills, like she knows how to use PowerPoint, so she is clearly an asset to me.

So where do I begin. And how do I approach this.

Is it like cleaning- idealistically aim to do a little bit every day and it will be done without you realizing it, or like the cleaning in reality- long considered, known to be necessary, endlessly moved to the bottom of the list of proprieties until it reaches a point of humanitarian / health crisis and then do something about it?

Probably the latter, as the time factor is a constant, did I say constant? Constant challenge!

As all mothers of children (as opposed to cats and dogs who require love, food, and kitty litter only) know, mums are time poor. Its in the news (oh sorry confusing ads for news now- I don’t get to watch much tv) “as a busy mum…” we never have time for anything, except buying highly toxic cleaning products that we don’t get around to using, or 2-in-1 hair products to save our valuable time.

So, as a busy mum

who works, studies, has 3 kids at primary school (thank goodness they all got there in the end) and a husband who says I have single-handedly caused him to become depressed to the point of suicide, I am now aiming to fill my spare time with a blog about nothing. Oh know I’m channeling Seinfeld. Does anyone remember Seinfeld. That was a good show, as far as shows about nothing go. But at least they used actors unlike now with the shows about nothing filled with everyday people who mostly harbor profound hatreds, biases or personality disorders..

So yes, im writing about nothing in all my spare time which I don’t have.

Does any of this make sense? Is there any point?

Is it simply a cheaper version of therapy to write it down instead of talk it out?

As yet I do not know, but as I am already out of content I guess that’s it for today.

Oh actually while writing that I was thinking about Tara Westover and her book “Educated” and how that was prescribed for her as a form of therapy. Understandably too. She certainly did not lead the sheltered middle-class cushy lifestyle I have had and look at her: PHD. Probably a university professor. They say genius comes from hardship.. hence I’m no genius, just a tired shitty mum trying to work out how to get a job that I can do from home, in school hours and actually get payed for it, and possibly enjoy..?? is that even possible???

Now who the hell can I get to read this rambling? I don’t think I know anyone who has enough spare minutes in the day to listen to me drivel down the phone at them, let alone read my entitled self- deprecating rubbish…

Sunday evening

Ok, so hard-hitting stuff here. Its Sunday evening. I need to make the all-important decision about whether to shower or not.

I had a shower at 2 pm. Do I therefore need to have another shower? I often shower in the evening and then figure I can get away with not showering in the morning- buys me an extra 10 (ok 15-20) mins in the morning, and as anyone who knows me knows, I am not a morning person. Any sleep after 7am is well worth the effort the night before.

So having showered in the afternoon, but I did then go for a walk, where do I stand? Another shower within 5 hours seems harsh on the water-starved planet, yet will I be too stinky by morning?

Tough call. Ultimately laziness and the planet win. I will just say I look and smell shabby as I am shabby and sick and people will think I am really sick because of how shabby I look.

Great justification there.

Off to bed to read my novel.