dO i REaLLy NEed A tiTLe?

I woke up at 0555 so I could have a coffee on my own. It's the only time of the day it might be remotely possible that I may hear myself think. 

At 0601 this child came out crying, looking bereaved. I then cooked him some "Once-were-warrior" eggs to which he didn't eat; no surprises there. 

So now I can still hear myself think but it's all "why won't you eat the eggs you arse-hole"? 

But this is a good morning because Mummy has a date with the hairdresser. 

My hair dresser could literally shave my head and slap my face and it would still be a treat compared to home life with 3 children under 7. 

Don't get me wrong. We really wanted children, originally. That's why we went through IVF twice and signed 3 times to have them all. So it was more than planned. What was not planned was the chaos, the changes in your marriage. Your hormones. The vibe of the thing. 

But here I am. 

And I'm dreaming of sitting in that chair. The hairdresser chair, not the electric one - that dream will be later on tonight. 

 

LeT's dO tHiS pEOpLe

 

Blogging, blogger, blog.

Let's Go. 

Here it is. 

It's happening. 

What am I doing again? Oh yeah, blogging again. Wait what?! Oh okay. Let's do this. 

Hi, my name is Cherry, and I've been blogging for 15 years now and fallen off the wagon...again. Life just seems to keep getting in the way, and other things. Then I forget how to log in to Blogger and that takes me another half a morning to realise that I actually have to log in under my maiden name email address because I've never been able to sync my blog to my new email address and now I'm here I will probably blog once and then 5 years will happen and we'll repeat the process. So boring. 

But while I'm here...let's do this! I keep saying that. It's actually very annoying I know, but it's my default setting with 3 kids and an arsehole for a husband. "Let's do this!" is just my way of saying "fucking hell I want to go back to sleep for 100 years but I can't so please just help me out so we can move on with the fucking day". So Let's do this. 

I'm now 43, feel older every day, my boobs sag (like legit 90 year old woman sag) and my bum also sags. I'm not complaining because I weigh 55kg and feel like a goddess, but just a goddess with no boobs and no bum. But I'm not trying to impress anyone, least of all my husband whom I just try to avoid all contact with - like avoiding an octopus underwater in a 1m by 1m tank. The sagging doesn't seem to put him off unfortunately. When did I become incapable of even wanting a sex life? But moving on. 

I have two children in school and one in day-care which is mildly better than any other alternative up until now, but only marginally. 

I am working part-time as a midwife and riding that roller-coaster while still contract working for the DHB as a lactation consultant. I am a full-time mother, house keeper, lawn mower and accountant, among other titles, not least "Bitch of a Wife" the latest title I received this AM from my frustrated and sex deprived significant other (which I totally understand and get...but don't buy into). 

I sometimes sew things. I received a free sewing machine from Fly-bys points that were expiring anyway, and thought "chief sewer" was another title I could wear at home for those times that Justin whinged that I never repaired his blown out work pants...but he didn't like the sound the machine made so I compromised by finding a place in town to set my machine up and now I spend any free time there just creating and making little things and unwinding. It's just another dimension of who I have become. A distraction from the mounting pressure. And to be clear, it's mounting. 

So I am sitting (squatting is the term Justin would use) in a local coffee shop, blogging because I have been meaning to for a while, and contemplating life and where it is I am at, at age 43. 

I have started up a book group, and enjoy reading with a purpose to discuss and socialise around that. 

I also enjoy planting flowers in my garden and doing all I can to attract the bird life to our humble abode by way of feeders, a bird house (newly required) and hanging bird bath. I have asked Santa for a large pretty blue bird bath to attract them further. 

I still avoid anything to do with farming as it just brings misery to me every time. I could explain that more but I can't be bothered. It's so layered and so complicated, like my marriage. 

My family back in Australia literally consists of my Mother and my brother these days, and neither bring anything but drama and contempt. I have all but moved on there too. Life is too short for other people's bullshit. I don't inflict my BS on others, so I don't plan on taking anyone's on. It's that simple for me now. Cold; perhaps. Sensible; YOU BET!

And now I am over typing. My mind is wandering about the tasks I need to do today...like getting the milk that we ran out of this morning and saw me the worst wife in the world. EYEROLL! Please. 

Life can be ho-hum but I'm happy to be surviving it and being me in the ways I know how. Christmas is nearly here and I usually love this time of year. I'm trying to get in the spirit but it's harder than ever. I have the music going in the car, the tinsel up and the elves are roaming the house daily. All clutter of course to my pessimistic love match. Ha! Who is as joyless as I've ever known. 

I must away. Time is a ticking. 

Let's do this people. Let's just fucking do this already. 

   

bACk bY poPuLAr DEmaND (guarantees not guaranteed)

Well not really “popular demand”, more like one die-hard-like-minded friend from afar asking what ever happened to your blog? I’m not even convinced she was actually requesting more blog posts but just asking in general what ever happened, like you do when you’ve suddenly realised that someone gave up on their dream early and you feel there could be a sad tale to discover and relish in 🤔 We all do it. 

I am not a complete arsehole though after all and I’m happy to take up the challenge and put thumbs to iPhone again just to make a friend smile in times of Level-4-going-to-level-3-what’s-the-difference-lockdown. 

So here it is.

I’m back baby. 

Better than ever. 

As I’m now well into my 40’s and life is fucking grand.

You laugh, but it’s true. I mean it. 40 is amazing. I take so much less shit these days and give absolutely no fucks about doing so. 

I’m taking complete control over things that I obviously didn’t in the past and thanks to weight loss surgery I look fucking good while doing it! 

I’m finally living my best life. 

I even enjoy sex again and beginning to stand my ground in getting what I want. Too much information...you better believe it. 

I am hornier than a rabbit on heat in a unicorn costume. 

Justin was enjoying it for a bit, now he turns me down! (only occasionally mind you). Ha! Who would have imagined it. I’m in control. 

Speaking my absolute mind is another way I’m enjoying being older and wiser. I’m figuring that life is too short to beat around the bush. Say what you mean, even if that involves all the obscenities in the human vocabulary that have been bursting to get out. All of them mother fuckers. 

It’s liberating let me tell you. I’m a free woman finally. My children are scared. My husband should be scared. I’m on a motherfucking roll you bitch-arse-cunt-fucks. 

Now leave.