It is freaking hot.  More than sweaty breasticles, my lovelies, I am glowing all over the shop.  Wipin’ up my glow with a towel kinda hot.

It just hit 41c (105.8F) while I was driving the kids around to various sleepovers.  Got the honour of meeting my bosses wife, lounging in the pool with a glass of wine lucky biatch, when I dropped Moo and her best bud off for a sleepover there tonight.  She seems lovely.  Apparently she has heard all about me, *snigger* but was still nice to me.

Went shopping to buy large clear plastic storage containers for the Christmas Decos (going to cull a lot.  17 boxes might be a tad excessive I do concede) and take the girls to spend their Christmas money on a game for the Wii.  The girls went one way, and I went straight to the coffee place.

As you do.  On a freaking stinking hot  day.  You buy the largest Latte you can find.  With an extra shot.

While I was waiting for them to make it, my FREE coffee cause they have these little card thingy’s and your 8th one is free, I wandered over to put Lotto on.

Our little indulgence.

‘Oh!’ says the little girl that served me, all of 10 years old I reckon, ‘You have a win!’

‘Cool!’ says I, thinking this is my lucky day, might chuck a little something special in the cart at Safeway.

She calls over her mum.  I know it was her mum cause she said ‘Mum, what do I do here?’

People behind me are mumbling.  I am thinking, wait your turn fuckers, Mummy is getting an avocado, or maybe even TWO! Oooh, cherries would be nice…..

‘Congratulations!’ says Mum.  I am thinking a lot of freaking hoo-ha for 20 bucks lady.  Now hand over the cash my coffee is getting cold.

‘You have won $1125.25!’

‘I WHAT?????’  My poor little heat stroked mind is not computing.

She points to the screen that is showing the whole fucking shopping centre how much I won.

I start stammering and sweating glowing that little bit more.

‘Really?  Oh. My. God!’  Any one would have thought I won 1st division the way the lady and I were carrying on.

Little girl counts out my cash and puts it in an envelope.

Yeah baby!

I spend the next 15 minutes trying to find the girls.  Finally find them perusing the games in Target.

I tell them.  Moo launches herself at me in excitement.  My coffee goes flying.

My beautiful FREE coffee.

Then the little biatches give me a list of all the things they want.

But Mummy has other plans for this money.  Oh yes, my lovelies, you KNOW what I want…..

Pity a grand will only buy one shoe.  I will have to learn to hop elegantly.

A Mummy Christmas:

Sometime in August….

Shit, Christmas is coming better start buying stuff and budgeting.

October:

OK, getting this and this and this for the kids. Start shopping.

November:

Take the items back to the store cause the kids have changed their minds.

December:

Write Christmas cards, organise who, what and when for Christmas Day.

Buy, wrap and sort presents for a bazillion people. Including teachers, distant relatives.

Get kids to write letters to Santa.

Unwrap and take toys back to the store.

Organise and drive kids to various Christmas functions.

Bake, bake, bake.

Decorate.

Confirm who is coming for Christmas dinner.

Organise and buy food for Christmas day, write THE PLAN.

Rewrite THE PLAN a million times and then give up and hope you can wing it.

Buy, organise, dig out clothes for various functions and Christmas.

Bake, bake, bake. Shop, shop, shop.

Start various heartfelt homemade gifts.

Week before Christmas:

Wake at 5am every morning to get everything ready for the big day.

Find handwritten Christmas Cards in a pile of junk that is accumulating on the kitchen bench. Vow to post them right away.

Write a large note to self and put on the fridge ‘Take turkey out of the freezer!’  cause microwaved half thawed turkey aint the same I’m telling ya!

Chuck heartfelt homemade half finished projects in a box and buy something less heartfelt and homemade and promise yourself you will write a kick arse card.

Reconfirm dinner guests and replan food choices for picky eaters.

Drive family members here, there and everywhere and inform children that no, we will NOT be spending $50 on each and every one of their friends. Here is a candy cane. Wrap that.

Peace and quiet while said children fume in their rooms muttering something about how heartless and cruel you are. Contemplate taking gifts back to the store and giving them potatoes/coal for Christmas.

Christmas Eve:

Mad dash to the store before they shut because you have forgotten something vitally important. And the batteries. And wine.  Lots and lots of wine.

Find Christmas Cards. Throw in a box and vow to send even better ones next year.

Find out that so and so is not coming tomorrow, but Mother of the Year has invited some strays. Work out how to stretch the meal without missing out completely (like I did one year!! By the time I got everyone organised there was no fucking turkey left!)

Wrap last minute gifts.

Bake, bake, bake.

Visit friends and go see Christmas lights.

Drink far too much spiked eggnog.

Kids in bed.

Fall into bed around 3am.

Christmas Day:

Up at 5am to put turkey in oven.

Sit with the kids and husband while they open their gifts.

A Daddy Christmas:

Christmas Day:

Cool! Look what I got! What did you get honey?

Mummy: Get me a fucking coffee and we will call it square.

Me-fucking-oow.

We bought Boo a cubby for Christmas.

This one.

Now look at the picture.  What do you think we get for our fucking $1100.

monsterfort.jpg

The top.

Not the poles, not the sandpit underneath and no freaking way are we getting the slide and God Forbid that ladder.

I am pissed.

But not pissed enough to actually fight for my rights it seems.

Cause I am a pussy.

I was all ‘Oh, OK, I just assumed it came with everything pictured for 1 fucking GRAND for that price.  Can I order them?  Oh, OK, yes I understand you need to take a break.  Sometime around the end of January? No fucking WAY! Well that is sort of…… oh OK.  I can go down and get it from the supplier you say? Not unless they are open between 2 and 3am cause that is the only time I have an opening in my calender. Umm, don’t know if I can do that.  Can’t they courier it up?  Oh, no they can’t then….OK.  I guess that is OK.  Yes I will come and pick up the stupid freaking half cubby ASAP.  Thanks.’

Click.

What the fuck happened there?  What is wrong with me?  No it isn’t OK!!!!

OK, jump on the internet and look up the supplier.  Call them.

‘Hi, I have just bought one of your Forts and it looks like from the brochure  that it comes with everything shown.  But I have just found out it doesn’t so I need to order it.  Oh.  Yes I understand it is close to Christmas, but you see…… yes… yes….. I know orders have closed but if you have them in stock can I buy the elevation kit and accessories and get you to courier them to me? I will have to pick it up if you deign to sell me one if you have it? Can’t you send it up?  I won’t be able to drive a 4 or more fucking hour round trip with petrol at $1.49 a litre when it would be cheaper and easier for me for you to mail it  to get there during your opening hours.   Oh, OK you want my phone number and will get back to me OK.’

Click.

I am such a freaking pussy.

Waiting near the phone.  Hovering over the phone.  Standing staring at the phone.  The cordless phone that I could actually pick up and walk around with.

No they didn’t call.

Mario-porn-star comes home.  Ask him to call.

They have no record of my call.

Fuck.

Will have to try again on Monday.

Oh please God, Allah, Goddess, my wonderful internets, please please make sure that all the bits I need are here in time for Christmas.

I will be good.  I won’t swear for like 15 minutes or something.  Or how about I won’t buy any new shoes for the rest of the YEAR!

Just please make this happen for my little guy.  It will be the ultimate.

Oh and can you help me find this stupid freaking thing:

images.jpeg  It is called Hyper Dash and all the stores are sold out.

It is ALL he wants for Christmas.  He has never asked Santa for anything before.  So if you could organise for it to fall in my lap I would, like, be rool happy and shit.

Ta.  Smootches.

Oh and P.S.  make the biatch who fucked this up for me get a huge zit on her arse forcing her to wear loose pants and stand all day.  Then have it burst painfully.  That would be awesome.

Oh and perhaps give me some balls for Christmas.  Looks like I could use ’em.

Screaming children, frazzled parents, slow walking pensioners with bags full of change, punch ups in the carpark…..

Yes, the Christmas spirit is alive and well at my local shopping centre (mall).

Today I started my Christmas shopping. Usually I am almost finished by now. But nooo this year I am totally disorganised.

So I dragged my sorry arse filled with the joy of Christmas shopping I made my way to the home of off key Christmas musak. Seems everyone else in a 100 kilometre radius had the same idea.

Hence the car park punch ups. No I wasn’t involved. I was just standing around enjoying the show shouting ‘Kick him in the balls!’, ‘It was totally your park girl, pull her hair till her scalp bleeds’ with all the others.

City girl in me never died, so I walk fast. I shop fast. Old lady with the walking frame get the fuck outta my way cause I am on a mission.

Today’s mission was getting the rest of the paraphernalia for the outside decorating and the wrapping paper, cellophane, ribbon, cards and shit.  Remember this, it is important.

First port of call was the local coffee place. Make my order, stand in the required possie and wait. For 15 freaking minutes! Every bastard had the same idea as me. But when I got my extra large (I get them to make it in a milkshake cup) double latte with an extra shot, I kissed it and took off in my usual 500 miles an hour fashion.

Weaving through the prams, toddlers, aforementioned old people, disembodied heads on top of laden trolleys and strategically placed beggars people selling raffle tickets, I spied some really cute 3/4 pants. Hmmm, I have time. Lets try them on.

Yeah, it didn’t go well. Good thing I didn’t buy that holiday decorated icepick I saw earlier or I would have stabbed myself repeatedly in the eye to reduce the pain of seeing myself in the 3 way mirror.

Into the discount shop to find some cute but cheap frugal cards for the kids to give to their friends. Run into one of the feral mums from school. Am civil but talk quick and get the hell out of there. Cardless.

After an hour my feet are killing me.  These shoes are gorgeous, but not made for speed shopping.

I carry my bags full of Santas (got a thing for Santa *snigger*), lights and 2 bucks a packet candy canes out to the carpark.  Flipping the bird at the guy who nearly runs me down in the race to get another park.

I get home, unpack my purchases.

Shit.

Now I need to go and get the wrapping paper, cellophane, ribbon, cards and shit.

****************

I am going to come clean.  I wrote this last week.  Tonight I wrote a long and very personal post in response to some of the lovely supportive emails I received after yesterdays post.  But I guess I am not ready to share it right now.  I will, in time.  But in the meantime…….  

Thankyou, my internets.  You are all my biatches.