I fantasise about telling people to go eat a dick. Or if I could personify a shitty situation, I’d also tell it to go eat a dick.

Allow me 3 minutes to get my Kath & Kim on and tell you about all the shit I hate this week. I know I’m not the only one because if you scratch beneath the surface of any mum, maybe ply her with a glass of $5 Aldi wine, she’ll be all too willing to agree. She may even get her hollaback girl on throwing in some, ‘fuck yeahs!’ for decoration.

While the week hasn’t been particularly bad, there’s been a few moments where I managed to keep my shit together instead of acting like a furious octopus, vomiting up its stomach acid and attacking it’s prey. Fckn srsly.

Kindergarten Crap

I wish my kid’s school bag came with a ‘no junk mail’ label. The amount of shit that goes directly in the recycle bin is out of control. If I wanted to volunteer for a fucking market stall at the kinder, I’d put my damn hand up. Don’t bother with that passive aggressive BS either, the guilt ship sailed long ago. EAD.

Shitty Fundraisers

Both my kid’s childcare centre and kindergarten trot out The Entertainment Book. The fucking Entertainment book. $60 for and entire book of coupons. Are you for real? I understand that to fork over money people want to feel they’ve got some sort of value in return. But who the hell manages to go out for dinner with a 3yo and 1.5yo to warrant using an entire book of vouchers that you had the fortune, nay, privilege to pay $60 for? Do you know what, here’s $60, keep your crappy book and EAD.

Mother’s Day

Mother’s day came and went, there were still arses to wipe, dishes to do and spawn to referee. EAD. Lucky I’m not much for commercial fanfare, unlike my mother…

Mother’s Day II

The week prior to Mother’s Day my own mother sends me a text saying she’s chosen and bought her own gift, that my brothers and I must give her money for said gift in lieu of receiving “lots of little things” and, that my brother has arranged a lunch booking on her behalf. While I support the ‘don’t ask, don’t get’ mantra, this is next level. At said lunch, she whips out said gift proclaiming it is time to open her present. The present she chose, bought, insisted we pay for, wrapped herself and is opening in our presence as a surprise to us to see what we paid for… Perhaps EAD is a bit strong here so I’ll leave this one with a Van Badham, expert level eye roll. You can call me an ungrateful daughter if you wish but look at all the fucks I give.

Flying Ants

I think this has to be the biggest ‘fuck you’ of the week. Picking my kids up from childcare – we walk because we live very nearby – I get a bug in the eye. Not just any bug, but flying hellion with acid spitting pincers, it bites me repeatedly on the fucking eyeball and the inside of my bottom eyelid.

Now, I have actually had hydrochloric acid accidentally splashed in my eye before and I can tell you, this was on the pain scale that I would rate childbirth. You know ‘the burning ring of fire’ right before the head pops out? That. But in my eye. Desperately trying not to cause a scene in the childcare centre car park, I’m flailing around in an attempt to rid my eye socket of this fiery hell.

I now look like a $2 hooker that copped a rabid dick to the eye. EAD ant. EAD.

I’d tell you there’s light at the end of the tunnel or, kids are only little once and, I’m SO #blessed but, those are stupid well versed clichés people trot out. Cest la vie, I’ve got 3/4 of a bottle of $5 Aldi wine in the fridge and some chocolate.