Friday, 25 May 2012

FFS Friday

It's Friday! Yay! Another week done and dusted, and by some miracle we've all got out alive!

Someone keeps on calling me from a private number. FFS.

They call at least three times a day but never leave a message. FFS.

I don't answer private numbers, you'd think they would have realised that by now. FFS.

Considering they've been calling for at least three weeks now, clearly they haven't realised. FFS.

I can only assume that they are telemarketers. FFS.

Last Friday I was so sick of the calls that I decided to answer. FFS.

The first private number was a man looking for Amelia. FFS.

The second private number hung up as soon as I answered, so was probably the same person looking for Amelia again. FFS.

No matter how many times he calls my number I can guarantee he's not going to find Amelia. FFS.

I might pretend to be Amelia and abuse him just so that he stops calling me. FFS.

When I was losing my baby weight I looked forward to the day when I could finally fit into my 'normal' clothes again. FFS.

That day has come and gone. All my lovely 'normal' clothes are now too big for me. FFS.

I have about ten pairs of beautiful jeans sitting in my wardrobe looking at me and I can't wear them because they're too big. FFS.

This week I reached my tolerance limit for toileting with bub in the room. This occurred on the day I was trying to do a poo whilst bub was simultaneously trying to close the toilet seat and stick his hand down the back of the toilet. FFS.

When he got sick of doing that he was trying to eat the toilet brush. FFS.

Now I don't let him come to the toilet with me so instead he stands outside banging on the toilet door and screaming. FFS.

No matter how I try to sneak away he always catches me. FFS.

Not quite sure how it happened, but I am now an Avon rep. FFS.

Now that bub is over his croup, he's getting molars through. FFS.

The only reason I know this is because I saw one peaking out whilst he was screaming at the top of his lungs at the chiropractor. FFS.

I've resigned myself to not sleeping for the next few years. FFS.

Sunday hubby announces that I've been very sarcastic and nasty recently. FFS.

Clearly he doesn't appreciate my scintillating wit. FFS.

Perhaps my particular brilliance had something to do with him telling me that he thanks God every day for giving him our son. FFS.

Pretty sure I was the one who gave him our son. FFS.

17 hours of labour and 9 months of pregnancy makes me think I should get credit for giving him our son. FFS. 

I very politely pointed this out to him. FFS.



If he's going to have that attitude I might move away with our son and he can get God to give him another one. FFS.

I wish there was a sarcasm font. From now on I'm going to use italics as my sarcasm font. FFS.

All I've heard from bub this week is Dad Dad Dad. FFS.

I respond to Dad Dad Dad with Mum Mum Mum and he yells DAD DAD DAD. FFS.

Ungrateful child. FFS.

Not sure if I mentioned this last week, but it turns out that I wasn't having a crohn's flare up, I was just repeatedly getting gastro. FFS.

Bub has decided to start his terrible twos early and is chucking tantrums all the time. FFS.

He's so dramatic (got that from his father). FFS.

He'll arch his whole body and scream then when that doesn't get the desired result he'll lay down on his back and cry (with real tears!) until I pick him up. FFS.

The boy has a one track mind and cannot be distracted so I'm not sure how I'll deal with these tantrums when one happens in public. FFS.

It's only a matter of time. FFS.

Sometimes he has mini tantrums and screams at the top of his lungs "NEIN NEIN NIEN NIEN". FFS.

Whenever he screams Nein Nein Nein at me I think of Hitler. FFS.

I'm expecting an important phone call from work. I was told I'd get the phone call this week and have been on tenderhooks waiting for it. FFS.

I still haven't got the phone call! FFS.

My stomach is sore again. This is not a good sign. FFS.

It means I'm probably having a Crohn's flare up. FFS.

Back to the Dr I go. FFS.

You may have noticed last week there was no mention of poo. I did have something to tell you about poo, however I decided it was too gross. FFS.

I'll give you a clue though, it had to do with me having to do a poo sample. Enough said. FFS. 

We have been awake since 4.43am today. FFS.


Dear Baby G

11 comments:

  1. I'll see your toddler toilet sharing and raise you twins and a shameless 6yr old...plus a husband who realises it's the only time I'm "captive" - ie sitting still and not ignoring him because I'm at the laptop.

    I don't remember exactly when I last had a solo crap, but I believe it was some time in 2005 - before my oldest was born.

    My brother lives next door, and I have been known to go to his house to try and use the bathroom solo. Only he knows what I'm doing now and blocks my entry, since he doesn't want me using his expensive, plush, single man's toilet paper.

    So now I go there waving the white flag that is my own budget bulk family toilet paper.

    That right there should've been my FFS post for next week....FFS.

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    Replies
    1. Oh goodness, I thought toileting with one observer was bad, your situation would make me constipated!

      It's very inconsiderate of your brother not to let you use his special toilet tissue!

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  2. Hehe I love these posts - they always add a little giggle to my Friday!

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  3. Hey, I love your blog and the fact I can check out Australian-available products and buy them! I followed, hope you follow back!

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  4. Luckily our toilet is so small the youngest can't get between me and the wall to get to the toilet brush or the back of the toilet - I hate that part of parenting! I liked your idea of going away with your son and letting God give him another one, hahaha!

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    Replies
    1. I never imagined that going to the toilet on my own would be something I'd miss!

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  5. I appreciate your scintillating wit.

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  6. Ahh yes the private number. If you have to ring on private then you have something to hide....

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