.dear diary.

Dear diary,

Today I cleaned the house from bottom to top. But while I was cleaning the top, the kids trashed the bottom; and while I was cleaning the bottom, they trashed the top. FML. I've heard the saying 'cleaning with kids in the house is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos' but I think for my kids, it should be 'cleaning your house with kids is like brushing your teeth, while drinking black coffee, while eating Oreos, on steroids'

I am so blessed to be a Mum, to be able to carry babies; bla bla bla. My kids fucking suck! I took them to the beach 4 days in a row last week, we had so much fun, I did no inch of housework. And now I'm suffering. Why do kids need entertaining? And why did I have 3?

Dear diary,

When I text my husband today he could tell the house was chaos. I knew I sounded too desperate. Dammit!! Why can't I play it cool like 'hey babe, dinner is at 7:30 kiss kiss' but instead I write 'fucking come home, I just got shat on, there's bananas mushed into our sheets and I haven't showered in daysssss'

Why can't I play it cool?

Dear diary,

Kids are well behaved today. Nothing to bitch about. 

Oh wait, I had the runs.... It was shit. Ha! Get it? Get it!!! Of course you do. You get me (and never talk back).

Dear diary,

I had to tell my son to get his penis out of his breakfast today *sigh* you'd think I'd never have to say that, right? I say it more than 'hello'. I also had to tell my daughter to get her butt out the air while we had visitors.

Dear diary,

I've had a terrible day. Husband works long hours, kids cry for him, I feel disgusting and have a million things to do before bed.... Ignoring everything for a glass of red and few eps of Sex and the City. Oh Carrie, you are my girl crush.

Dear diary,

I need new clothes. I need money. I need a job. Why is child care like a million dollars a day? I think my husband needs a cheaper hobby. 

Dear diary,

Today has been a massive struggle between bikini body and pizza; pizza always wins. WHY CAN'T PIZZA BE HEALTHY??? Why is pepperoni and cheese so fucking delicious? Anyway, kids are nude, as usual; how do parents keep their kids dressed? Did I miss that part at antenatal classes? I just can't figure it out...

Dear diary,

I still don't feel like an adult. How the hell do I have 3 small humans that I'm supposed to care for? I just want 2 minute noodles for dinner and wear pj's all day! Who let me adult? Maybe I'll feel more adult in my 30's...? Hahaha just kidding, adulting sounds stupid... I'm never gonna grow up.

Dear diary,

I'm stuck wrapping stupid presents for my stupid children who will be so ungrateful on Christmas morning anyway. At least I have my champagne and Mariah to get me through... Husband is out at staff party, not that he would help. I keep cutting the stupid paper too small, help me. Can I just wrap a bow around everything? Or just keep them in their plastic bags? How do people do this? I hate it. Too hard basket.

Dear diary,

I gave up on Christmas present wrapping and I have resorted to Mariah Carey Christmas carols karaoke. I apologise to anyone on my snap chat. I'm sure my kids will understand when they themselves become parents why I was such a shit one. God, love them... 

When they sleep.

Merry Christmas ya filthy animal...

And a happy new year.

You, me + 3

.the perfect housewife.

Look at my perfect child. I am so perfect.

Look at me and how perfect I am. I vacuumed AND *mopped today, so I thought I'd post a pic on Insta to show what a perfect fucking housewife I am.

*by mopped, I obviously mean that I used baby wipes to clean a few weeks worth of spills.

I broke my foot 3 weeks ago and this is the first week I've been able to do housework without having a throbbing kankle. In other words; our house has been beyond pig sty status, for 3 weeks. 

In that 3 weeks and not being able to keep on top of things, I have had a lot of time to think.....

I wish I could be the perfect housewife, but I'm not. I wish I could have my house spotless every second of every day, but I can't. I wish I could go ONE DAY WITHOUT YELLING, but I can't. I wish, I wish, I wish.

But honestly, who cares? I spend so much time in my own head, trying to be 'perfect' that I forgot that everyone's idea of 'perfect' is different. And the only person who I want to please in life, is my husband (am I right, ladies?? *wink wink*). And he thinks I'm perfect. Messy house and all. Broken ankle and all. Big booty and all. He does love the big booty....

I have a 'perfect' marriage and we need to change not one thing. We love ripping on each other on Facebook and in some sick and twisted way, that's our way of showing love. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's ours (with a little whiskey). 

Everyone has their differences. Some women have spotless homes, then there's me. Some days (today) my kids leave the house without t-shirts and shoes, and I literally open up a box full of zero fucks; I do not care. My car is messy; I do not care. I clean it out once a week but in the meantime, zero fucks given. 

                Thanks Bill. You get it...

I used to have a fabulously clean house, until I had a third child, who never slept. The fucks went out the window the same time his sleep patterns did... I still love a clean environment and nothing makes my nostrils happier than the smell of bleach and disinfectant; but I hate tidying up toys/clothes/shoes. It kills my soul, so I don't do it. 

In a nutshell, I love a clean house, don't give a fuck about a tidy house. 

How can we be the 'perfect housewife' when there are only 24 hours in a day....?

Firstly, we need our beauty sleep. No one wants a haggard wife. 7-8 hours gone. 

Secondly, do you actually know how long it takes to get 3 (4 including the husband) kids ready in the morning? A long fucking time, all right?

Thirdly, I don't even remember the last time I showered. I can't shower while my youngest is awake because the last time I did that, he smothered himself in my favourite (and expensive) red lipstick. I refuse to make the same mistake. 

                        Like, what? 

How can I be so perfect when I have no time for myself?

Please teach me oh wise ones, how do I become so perfect?

Actually, I AM the perfect housewife for my husband. Because no one else matters

You, me + 3

How I escaped religion.

​How I escaped religion and became a better human.

 

I want to start this post by stating that I was never involved in a cult. Religion can come across very cult-like but by no means was it. ‘Escaping religion’ makes it sounds like I was part of something where we drank blood, pierced our nipples and sacrificed our livestock so that we may please the higher power. This is not true, but it does sound kind of fun.

 

I grew up in a religious household, and much to my parents demise, am not religious in the slightest. *Cue gasps and snickering*

 

So.... Where does science come into religion???

From a very young age, I was so curious about other religions. I didn’t want to follow them, I was just curious as to why we should follow one God, when we could have an option as to which one we could choose. I suppose it's kind of similar to Tinder. My parents literally looked at me like I had cut my toes off. Like, WHAT? You want to know things; about other Gods, about other religions? There are no other Gods… NOW GO PRAY!

 

From 8am to 1pm; then again from 5:30pm to 8:30pmwe went to church; every. Damn. Sunday.
Do you know what I do every Sunday now? Sweet FA. I enjoy it and I'm still a good person, right? Of course I'm a good person, I don't need to go to church to tell me that, to 'help' me be kind. It costs $0 to be kind; it feels great and it makes people smile. Shouldn't THAT be the message we need to get out? To be kind...?

When I was a kid, I am ashamed to say that I was brainwashed into thinking that homosexuality was wrong. I want to go back in time and literally punch myself in the face for being so judgemental. At the time, I thought my parents might hate me for thinking so differently to them. I was scared to have a different opinion and that I might be sent ‘straight to hell’ if I even entertained a different thought. By the way, how cruel is that? To tell a child they will forever burn in a place where they will never see their family, for all eternity. Burn. All eternity. Forever.

Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

It fucks with your brain, it almost does sound cult like. I was scared to let anyone know how much I enjoyed swearing, in fear they would not accept me (or that I would in fact BURN FOREVER IN THE PITS OF HELL). Do you hear how stupid that sounds? I was afraid of being judged and you know why? Because Christians are judgemental. Ever heard of Westboro Baptist? The most judgemental humans on this planet. And if we always live in fear of not being accepted, then how will people find out how incredibly awesome you are? Where would Lady Gaga be? Freddie Mercury would never have been in the public eye and Bohemian Rhapsody would NEVER be here. What would be my karaoke go to then, huh? 

Even now, trying to write this post; I find it difficult because I'm so pissed off with how I used to think when I was heavily involved in church. You don't have to be religious to be kind; you don't have to be religious to make people smile; you don't have to be religious to create music. Do what is inside of you and do what makes you happy. Don't try and please 'God' but suffer yourself in the meantime. Nobody judges you for being true to who you are. And if they do, they are the asshole, not you. 

So, how did I escape? Easy.... I decided to be myself, not care what anyone else thought, became the kind of person I always knew I was and lived an easier existence... It only took me 29 years, but I finally accepted myself.


You're a good person. You don't need 'God' to tell you that.

 

.stop bullying mums.

Having a chat with my chum today about a very controversial topic and it really made me think about all the judgement and unwanted opinions us Mums cop on a daily basis. One of my chums good friends is Kayla Boyd; wife of Broncos player, Darius Boyd; a brand new Mum and victim of cyber bullying, BY OTHER MUMS.... Those ugly internet trolls had their fangs out because she left her precious new bundle of joy, with her own Mother; not a fucking drug addict, not a stranger; her OWN MOTHER! 

Not that it's really anyone else's business. 

WTF ??

I talk about the sisterhood a lot because I strongly believe in it. Aren't we supposed to help each other and lift each other up? Not beat each other when we are our most vulnerable... Being a Mum can be hard, especially if you have a high profile husband. If she missed the Grand Final to stay home with her baby, she probably would have been bullied for 'not supporting her husband'. It's pretty fucking ridic. 

I bet no one was brave enough to crawl out from under their troll bridges to say it to her face. 

Internet trolls, take notice.....

People and their opinions....

I mean, I love a good heated debate but not when people are just downright mean and treat people they've never met, like shit. And it's pretty shithouse that it's usually other Mums who are the biggest trolls. 

When are people going to get it through their heads - it is never okay to bully. Bullying is shithouse and I have never felt more bullied in my life than since becoming a mum. Most of it is cyber bullying, the lowest form; they don't even have the guts to say it to my face.

I've often heard people say 'if you're willing to put your life out there, on social media; you should be willing to cop some backlash'

Honestly, piss off. 

You should NEVER have to expect criticism just because you like to update your social media profiles. That's utter bullshit. Just because I update my profile picture, doesn't give anyone an invitation to rip me to shreds. This has to stop. I worry about the day I let my children get on Facebook. 

The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return - Moulin Rouge 

Peace and love to all

You, me + 3

.the hardest part.

I thought my first pregnancy was the hardest part.

Pretty sure after this photo, I had a 3 hour nap. It was so hard....

I want to go back in time and literally kick myself in the face AND vagina for even thinking it was hard. In my case, pregnancy was the easy part. Even pushing 3 human beings out of my delicate flower (and ripping it open) wasn't the hardest part.

The hardest part? 

Being kicked in the face or sworn at by those humans who ripped through my fucking vagina. THAT'S THE HARDEST PART. Bitch, I gave you life and this is how you repay me?

The hardest part? 

When you give yourself a timeout in fear that you will unleash that inner beast that you know you have inside.

The hardest part?

Saying goodbye to your old self. When you birth those babes, you magically receive a new identity and for some Mums (aka me, over here) it takes a while for you to let go of your old identity and accept your new one. 

Goodbye size 6 jeans. Goodbye life of the party.

The hardest part? 

Losing your own income to buy whatever the fuck you want. As much as it is quite normal, it's still debilitating having to ask my husband for money to buy myself a new top. And before anyone suggests that my husband gives me an allowance, no.... Just no. Don't even suggest it.

The hardest part?

Losing all freedom. From now on, it's not only yourself you have to look after; you now have a little alien looking bundle of crying and vomiting joy that needs your constant care. You are pretty much done with having any spontaneity, FOREVER. Even if you want to 'just pop out for milk', you can't if the baby's asleep; Golden rule: NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY. You can no longer just go on a date with your husband, you have to plan that shit 78 months ahead. And then the kids will probably get hand, foot and mouth disease and you have to cancel anyway. Oh and my favourite thing is trying to get somewhere on time: we fail, every time. 

The hardest part?

Looking in the mirror and realising that you've become one of 'those mums'. You know the ones. The mums who have given up on themselves, who have no time for themselves, who look like they bathe in vegemite and cream cheese. The mums who wear sweat pants on a daily basis and probably haven't showered in days. The mums who want to be beautiful for their husband but would rather catch up on the 8000 hours of sleep they have lost nursing a screaming newborn. 

The hardest part?

Mummy guilt. Too much time on Facebook, not a good enough dinner, not enough time spent playing with them, missing an award assembly, missing an open day, not enough money for a ski holiday. We feel guilty no matter what anyone says. We want to be the absolute best person we can be for our children and if we stuff up one little bit, we can't help but feel guilty. Mums, it's ok if you're not perfect; you're perfect in your children's eyes, and that is all that matters!

The hardest part? 

Putting yourself last. This is hard. The more children I had, the further back I would put my own wants and needs. I get absolutely everything else ready for everyone else in the mornings before even doing my morning shit. 

Even when I do get to take a dump, I'm usually braiding my daughters hair....

The hardest part? 

Being hungover. 

Oh dear lord baby Jesus. Have you ever been so hungover with 3 kids that you have to tell them you have a virus? Yeah, me either. I like totes don't even drink. Ever. Ok maybe I'm drunk right now.

The hardest part?

Wanting so desperately to go back to work just so you can have a break from your annoying children.... I'm in the process of applying for jobs. Let me tell you, I am so excited, I could wet my pants - I've had 3 kids though, so I just cough and I wet my pants.

The hardest part?

Remember when you had hobbies? Wasn't that fun....? Hobbies were so fun, weren't they? Not anymore. Your new hobbies include: changing nappies, being spewed or pooed on, shoving your cracked, bleeding nipple in your newborns mouth and NEVER SLEEPING AGAIN. Enjoy your new hobbies, because you'll never get to do your old ones again. 

The hardest part? 

Watching them grow up right before your eyes and knowing that one day they won't 'need' you.... Wahhhhhhh

You may read this and think 'oh stop complaining'.  Go fuck yourself. I can complain if I want..... Change is hard. End of story.

Peace and love to all, 

You, me + 3

On a scale of 1 to britney in 2007, how close are you to losing it?.

On a scale of 1 to Britney in 2007, how close are you to losing your shit?

At the end of 2014, I was level Britney in 2007.... For 19 months, I had 3 kids on my own, no preschool (long story); a husband who was new to real estate sales and worked 6 days; and let me tell you, it was fucked up. I was fucked up...

It all came to a halt at the end of last year when I had a panic attack in the shower. I thought I was dying from a heart attack. I started to blackout, I had a tight chest and was hyperventilating profusely.

Normally I wouldn't share this stuff, but I wanted to let other people (especially mums) know that it's ok to break down sometimes. Not britney style though, that shit's cray.

Being a Mum is the most overwhelming, most emotional job on the planet. Yes, we get to play at the park/go to the beach/sit at home on Facebook; but there is so much more to being a stay at home Mum. 

There are tantrums, tears, food thrown, no showers - and that's just me... The kids are far worse, I swear....

There are two things in this world that I can't handle:

1. When people tug/pull on my clothing.

2. Being pushed/shoved/kicked - especially when I'm sitting down.

 

I can't help it but I lose my shit when either of these things happen.

And guess what?

MY KIDS DO BOTH OF THESE THINGS 78 TIMES A DAY..... 7 DAYS A WEEK.

No wonder I lost my shit.

Every Mum is different though. We never know what will make us crack under pressure, until it happens. My problem was that I tried to be the strongest possible version of myself - and I failed. When people offered help, I denied it; when in actual fact, I needed it the most. The biggest lesson I've learned out of my little meltdown is that it's ok to accept help. 

Friends are like family and if like me, you don't family near you to help - friends are family. Accept their help and have a break.

Don't be a dickhead and try and do everything on your own. Count on the sisterhood! And if you see another Mum struggling, BE that sisterhood! Help each other, love each other and if you see a Mum on the verge of a breakdown, help her. 

I will never forget the time a random Mum helped me carry my screaming children to the car. I was on the verge of tears, everyone was staring and I had no control over the situation. I thanked her so much that we finally laughed together at how kids can be assholes.... I will never forget her. #sisterhood 

Help one another, love one another, be kind to one another. 

You never know what is going on in someone else's life. They could be on the edge of a breakdown.... 

Peace and love to all 

You, me + 3

.the bachelor - what have I been missing.

Oh my dear Lord. What have I been missing?

Ok, ok, so I saw the bachelor advert while I was chatting with my husband and seriously, the hotness of this guy stopped me mid-sentence.... I can't even... Like literally, so hot. 

But I have a few questions...?

Why is a man, who reeks of handsomeness, still single? Is he bad in bed? Maybe he has a small wang? Maybe he's a shit guy in real life? 

Why are all these gorgeous girls still single? They look amaze balls, do they not? Those gowns, that hair, oh em gee. I wish I looked like that.

We all know why Sandra is single... But the rest? 

What is the white rose? What does it mean? Does she get to bang him?

The drama that fills my loungeroom right now, is amazing (probably because I'm 3 glasses of red deep), and it will continue to fill my loungeroom EVERY TIME THIS SHOW IS ON! I'm hooked.

By the way, who the fuck is Osher? Pretty sure I met that guy 10 years ago at Australian Idol auditions and his name was Andrew G.

Stay tuned.... I will review this show every time it is on. And I promise that it will be hilarious. 

You, me + 3