A Whole Lot of Nothing

I don't know what to write about. It all seems so fickle.

Who really wants to hear about anything that's going on? It all seems so boring. Shall I recount my day to day routine of get up, feed bub, feed me, play with blocks, attempt to unload the dishwasher, change bub, change me, chase the cat, play with a mirror, morning tea, more blocks...DAYCARE!

I can't wait for the festival to be over this year. I can't wait till I no longer have to think about it. I can't wait till I am no longer responsible for it. No more paperwork, no more funding applications, no more endless emails asking questions, no more apologising because I've stuffed up an invoice in a sleep deprived moment of 'what-am-I-doing', no more unrealistic expectations of a new Mum and an ex teacher.

Sleep has gone out the window again. I can't help but be a little concerned about that, but I don't know what to do about it. At least when I give in an go to sleep on the couch I no longer get grief about it. That's a good thing.

But hubby is falling apart at the seams again. He is working too hard and can no longer get up in the mornings. He says I am fragile. He says he has to look after me. Apparently that means keeping our dire financial status from me.

One income. Joy.

I've started dreaming about being at the hairdresser and panicking because I can't pay for what they are doing to my hair.

I read an article yesterday about a mum who is actually worse off by going back to work. We would be in the same position if I went back to work, I know that much.

If National get voted in again this year I will personally assassinate Key myself.

That was a lie.

I am far to fragile to do something like that.

I must wait till I am stronger.