I Quit!

Dear Sir,
I am handing in my notice. The working conditions are intolerable, the pay below the minimum wage, the hours are long, with no overtime and I am working well over government guidelines of a 37 hour week. No sick days are allowed or holidays. The employees I am in charge of are an unruly bunch, all of them are on final warnings. They have not improved or met their targets since the last assessment. I will not be working my notice. I have had enough and plan to walk today. If I can find a box, I will pack up my 'desk' and do one.
Yours,
A Confused Take That Fan.

The response:
The management thanks you for all your hard work and wishes you every success in the future. Leave your key and any company property behind. You may keep your mobile and company car for one week until you can make alternative arrangements.

And I am not kidding. That was his response.
He makes me laugh, so I think I might stay. I actually quite fancy the boss...
and the employees, although naughty are really rather gorgeous...

Comfort Eating...

I found comfort in a slice of chocolate fudge cake. Not homemade, I'm afraid, just goes to show what an underachieving housewife I am. Marks and Spencers (you must try it. Only £2 and absolutely finger licking good). It was the only thing that could lift the spirit now the Christmas chocolate orange has all been gobbled up.
So, what did prompt this little tearful episode on a grey Saturday afternoon? I am ashamed to admit I was once again feeling sorry for myself that I was home alone. Husband having a fab time playing football, me pounding the streets with the buggy trying to fill the hours. Like most days.
I know I need to get a grip. People are going through much worse. In Gaza, in hospitals up and down the country, in Africa, in Celeb Big Brother... But would you be so kind as to allow me my ten minutes...
It seems I am not alone in suffering grey days. Up to 52 per cent of women reported signs of depression during their child's first year, found a poll by website Netmums.com. OK, I am on year two, so I know I should be out of this by now. But what I found most interesting was that the report noted the difference in parenthood from our mothers days.
Many of us have babies later and give up successful careers, giving up positions of authority at work to be left home alone with little daily support. We may not live near our parents and don't have the kind of neighbourhood network where you can leave the children with friends while you go to the supermarket alone, or manage to have a child free dentist appointment.
I am in that situation. I live a few hundred miles from the nearest rellies, I have lovely neighbours but feel like I couldn't possibly impose. Ditto with friends. They have their own children they are struggling with, so how could I add to that so I can have a stress free shop at Waitrose?
The husband is out of the house from 7.30am 'til 6.45pm Monday to Friday. Saturday he plays football from 12.30pm - 5pm. So I feel pretty much alone all week. I have my playgroups, I go to friends houses for coffee and cakes, I am happy all week really, I have my days filled and planned. But come Saturday, I would love a break. I would love to spend time as a family, circa 1950. I would love to see my husband. Lean on him a bit. Take some of the weight off. Oh, and he is so good when he's around.
But he LOVES his football. If he doesn't play he gets moody. The exercise rejuvenates him, makes him glow with happiness. I could ask for anything when he gets back and I would get it. Please can you feed, bath, put the children to bed? Yes sireee. Please can you give me a massage, let me watch Grey's and feed me grapes, Yes siree. Can you give up football because it makes me feel lonely? Errrr, nope, not on your nelly, you selfish cow.
IF I lived near my mum, I know I wouldn't care if he went off to footy. I would be meeting up with her for lunch, going shopping, dropping the kids off whilst I go shopping. I'd go around for tea once a week, just for a break and a natter. I'd get a little part time job and ask her if she would mind looking after the kids whilst I worked two mornings a week, she'd say no problemo. My life would be completely different.
But for now. I seek solace in fudge cake, that tastes salty from my tears. And when it is finished, I do feel a bit better. When husband walks in I sing, 'All by myself...don't wannna be all by myself...anymoreeeeee, anymoreeee, anymoooooooooooreeeeeeeeeeeeeee' Bridget Jones style. He laughs. I laugh. It'll be OK. Before I know it I will be at work looking back on this time I have had alone with my children through rose tinted glasses saying, 'Wasn't it wonderful when we would spend all day walking around the town in your buggy, making buns, drawing pictures whilst daddy was out of the way at football....'

I Am Rubbish...It's Official. (But I Do Have An Award For Being Good...)

So, I was supposed to be going out tonight. It's like my pesky kids knew. Little girl woke at 2am demanding to come in our bed. I was too tired to protest. Later on big girl came in the bedroom and tried to climb in too. I asked husband what time it was, he replied nearly 7am, so I trekked downstairs with her to get some Shreddies before looking up at the clock and discovering the real time was the unsociable hour of 5.45am. So we climbed back up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire and I did the tiny step into her Goldilocks sized bed until she fell asleep half an hour later. Went back into our bed and husband had moved onto my side, baby girl was on his side. Both catching their zzzzs. No room for Mama. I wanted to wail with frustration and stamp my feet in protest.

Instead, I went downstairs anyway to make breakfast, packed lunch and get ready for two school runs. In a very grumpy mood. Do the kids have an inbuilt sensor that says, mummy is going out tonight, let's make her feel really grumpy and miserable so she can't enjoy it? My eldest girl hates me leaving the house, apart from to take her to school/parties/park/fun places. If I do go out she whines, 'Are you going out AGAIN!' like I am out painting the town red every night instead of once every other month. Ideally, she is the one who'd like me chained to the kitchen sink, not my husband. He relishes me going out so he can eat tins of stew meat whilst watching the Sopranos box set. In peace.

As it is, I have cancelled night out...the reasons I gave were lame...oh so lame...Tiredness, first week of school run exhaustion, skint, eyebrows out of control (again), don't like the cold and standing at train stations in freezing temperatures, oh, and my eyes sting when I close them.

I am officially RUBBISH.

Not in the eyes of Notsupermum, who I think is pretty super and she thinks I am not so rubbish. She has given me a lovely award. So thanks to you.
As required I have to include the following text:

"Blogs who receive this award are "exceedingly charming," says it's authors. This award is a fine one because it focuses not on the glory and fanfare of blogging, but in the PROXIMITY to one another through this online-world. "This blog invests and believes in the PROXIMITY--nearness in space, time and relationships. These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement! Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this clever-written text into into the body of their award."

And I have to pass this prestigious award onto 8 more bloggers. So here goes:

My favourite Auntie...who probably will never get around to uploading it but anyway, just so she knows she is loved...

39 and Counting - she is lovely and funny. A perfect combination.

Jennysmith - she has been with me for a while and I think she's fab.

Mom/Mum Wars - she is gorgeous and funny and has two cute boys. Who my girls will marry one day.

Nappy Valley - She lives where I used to live and I like hearing about her life.

Sticky Fingers - Tara is everyones friend. She is encouraging to new bloggers (and old) she is funny and she has just made the huge scary jump from full time worker to full time mum (working from home). Good luck T!

Teach My Children Well - because he is a funny fish.

And finally, Millennium Housewife because she looks like a horse. Oh, and she writes such perfect prose...funny, descriptive, surreal. I wish I could write like her...

Sprouts ARE Unsociable...

Things I have learnt this Christmas...
* It doesn't have to be stressful - especially if the husband cooks on the big day.
* It's really quite nice to sing Christmas Carols around the piano like you're in an old black and white movie, drinking mulled wine..."So bring us some figgy pudding..."
* I do believe in the magic of Father Christmas. You have to believe to receive, right?
* My children have a ridiculous amount of toys. Too many. It makes me feel guilty.
* Relatives are best in short and sweet bursts.
* There is such a thing as overstaying your welcome.
* There is such a thing as too many turkey dinners.
* Sprouts are unsociable.
* Someone will always end up in tears on Christmas Day. Thankfully this year it wasn't me. Instead, an overwhelmed four year old.
* Never go sales shopping with your husband. It's miserable.
* Do get someone to look after the kids, go shopping with husband and spend more time having a lovely long lunch with a couple of glasses of wine, when you should be buying nappies and mince meat.
* Don't eat too many mince pies/sausages wrapped in bacon/brandy cream/stilton or your step mother will point out your mince pie belly and say - "Is there something you want to tell us?"
* Go out on New Years Eve. Especially to a wedding. Get drunk with your husband and mime along in a big circle to Auld Lang Syne. It sure beats watching Lenny Henry making a t*t of himself on Hootenanny.
* Don't let husband take too much time off work. He needs to go back before the squabbling begins.
* Don't let the last day before going back to work/school (where moods are fraught) make you forget about the wonderful, relaxing Christmas you have just had where you wanted to give your husband long deep kisses under the mistletoe.
* Remember that Christmas is just one day.
* And that a piece of chocolate orange solves everything, for everybody (except possibly nut allergy sufferers...)