I had the perfect, HILARIOUS post title to describe Mothers Day.

Alas it involved words and themes that I cannot speak of, so completely wasted.

Fuck it.

It was a lovely day, I was spoiled rotten by Boo and Maddie, got a text message that made my eyes leak from Ally and another that made me smile from mah biatch Bettina, and MPS made the most amazing piklets with caramelised banana and walnuts that I want for every meal for the rest of my life.

Pics in the side bar or Instagram.  Check out my earrings Boo got me from the Mothers Day stall.  Fabulous, yes?

Fuckers are HEAVY.  And make me want toffees.  And Boo is so damn proud of himself he wants me to wear them ALL THE TIME.

I busied myself with solving a Rubics Cube that randomly appeared on my ottoman, while my house filled with people, in person and via screen.

Sister in love is having a girl in September.  The family rejoiced.

I got all yellow on one side.

…

Boo is at camp and I am totally and utterly beside myself with freakoutedness.  Is he happy? Is he sleeping? Did they remember to give him his meds?  Is the little bastard even missing me AT ALL?!?!

So the perfect solution was to wander around the city – just me and my fucked up stroke brain – riding up and down escalators that, because of my lack of depth perception, made it scarier than an episode of The Walking Dead mashed with that scene with the velocoraptors in the kitchen from Jurassic Park.*

I am pretty sure you could see my heart bouncing around under my top.  That is probably why people were avoiding me.

That and the heavy breathing.

I continued this behaviour for 3 hours.  And I forgot to buy any macarons.

I ended my adventure with being followed by some fat – I am assuming homeless cause I am an arsehole – dude stalking me all the way to meet with MPS and Maddie.

He fell asleep waiting for me near the exit of the food court while I sat near the ATM’s checking my emails.

He probably wanted my new hand creme from Jurlique.  That shit smells amazing.

…

Last night I got a text message from a friend who is having a shit filled fucked up time – more shit filled and fucked up than you can imagine, just to say that I was on her mind and she hoped I was OK.

And the timing was so exquisitely perfect that then, right at that moment, I was.

Thank you Eden.

Thanks to you I didn’t need that 2nd valium.

…

Every damn day I consider closing down this blog.  Just deleting it all and walking away.  But then where will I whinge cause my family are sick of hearing about it I realise that it is just the state of my mind right now and I will totally regret not doing a flounce post where I out all the bitches. And post a picture of my arse.

Related: I have the number for my work EAP** just have to get the guts to call them.

…

I am thoroughly disgusted and dismayed at the person I see in the mirror.  I am at the point where something needs to change.  I need to eat regularly and better and stop drinking my calories.

After we go out for dinner tonight.  Obviously.  My kid is at camp, mummy needs to get her tapas and margarita on.

And Instagram the shit out of it.

 

* one would, and rightly so, wonder WHY THE FUCK I would choose to ride up and down escalators as I clearly cannot master the foot/eye coordination to execute such a feat without having to hide in the ladies change rooms with a shirt 3 sizes too small grabbed off the rack outside to enable me to indulge in a mild omgisithotinhereitistotallyhotinherewhyaremyeysleakingSAVEMEFROMMYSELFOMG in private, and one would be wondering the same thing as me.  In hindsight I probably should have not done that.  Or gone to the city.

**Employee Assistance Program – where you can get counselling on the company dime.  I guess it is so you don’t go all postal on their arses.

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