So I’ve just finished doing the grocery shopping and I’m sitting in the car, in the air-con but still sweating more than any lady should, and I just don’t want to move. You know?
I feel so bogged down.
Grocery shopping is bittersweet for me. Oh my lord do I love the alone time. Seriously, it’s incredible to have a couple of hours (hell yes I take my sweet time) to just be an adult. Doing an adulty thing, without the Trolls soundtrack blaring in my ears. That’s the sweet part.
The bitter part is that I have to farewell a dear friend that I quite simply do not get to spend enough time with. Money. Yes, yes I know, money is private, I shouldn’t talk about it. Eh, that’s the same thing people tell me when I talk about depression, and I haven’t stopped yet, have I?
Money is like Bigfoot in my house. You can see the signs that he was here…there are groceries, there is toilet paper, there are gigantic footprints in the snow – BUT YOU NEVER SEE HIM! Just when I think I’ve got him pinned down someone needs a specialist appointment, or the cat gets in a fight (we name her Khaleesi and it’s like an invitation for randy tomcats to come and try to put her in her place #womeninpowermate), or some breaks a shoe, or the bloody kids expect to eat again! It’s exhausting. I’m so tired of having to worry about something that is so vital.
I’m tired of having to stay logged into NetBank while the cashier is scanning my items so that I don’t go over the $23.47 in my account. I’m tired of having to drink crappy coffee because Moconna costs more than nappies. I’m tired of panicking when the kids ask for the odd takeaway dinner, and then I have to say no and watch their little faces drop. I’m tired of not being able to go on date nights even when someone offers to baby-sit because we can’t afford the petrol, or movie tickets, or milk for the baby-sitters coffee. I’m tired of not spoiling my husband on Christmas, or his birthday, or Valentine’s Day because we agreed early on that it just isn’t a possibility. I’m tired of having to do a walk around Woolies just to let the kids get a piece of fruit from the kids basket. I’m tired of complaining about it. I’m tired of hearing myself thinking about it. I’m just so damned tired.
Look I know there is more to life than money. I know my kids can still have a great childhood and that love is the most important thing…blah,blah,blah. That doesn’t make it easier. Sometimes all that helps is a good old fashioned whinge-rant.
I start work this week. Once a week I will Carmen the employee (my super power is excessively talking about my kids, pretending I know how to act in an adult situation, and eating without sharing). This is my first job in nearly five years and whilst I know we need the income, and I really have to do it ready or not, it’s still hard to come to terms with. Ideally I would be in Uni full-time, smashing out my Bachelor in record time and getting a job that pays a stupid amount of money, but I have kids, so nothing in life is that simple.
Little blessings they are – going to eat me out of house and home, I’ll be living in a box on the street, in a four year old bra that’s three sizes too big for me, with hair resembling Cousin Itt, and my feet will be so black it’ll look like I’m wearing shoes #fashionstatement
Thinking positive, thinking positive – I am grateful for the bottomless pits that are my sons, that cause me to spend my whole pay on food. I am grateful that I need to buy toilet paper because that means they are keeping regular. I am grateful that I have a car to get around in, and spend copious amounts of money on for ridiculous things like petrol, and rego.
Oops. I guess I’m not in a very ‘silver lining’ kind of mood. Maybe later when I’m shoving my face full of the salami I just spent this weeks rent on?
Until then, I’ll keep on searching for Bigfoot, that jerk owes me a flat white.