Have I ever told you that I have officially been diagnosed as funny? No? Well I have. Here's how it happened:
Years ago hubby and I went to see a psych for relationship counseling. Part of it was us both attending a session on our own. During my session I was rather confused as she laughed the whole way through, even when I was talking about serious stuff. She even laughed when I was telling her about the time my ex was in a drug induced psychosis and wanted to kill us both but I convinced him it wasn't a good idea. Frankly I didn't find that funny at all, but my psych did.
Anyhoo, that's a story for another day. At the end of the session (and repeatedly throughout the session) the psych declared that I am funny. Then she told the receptionist too, which means I have a witness who can confirm that I am officially funny.
So there you have it. But enough of my tales, it's time for me to get my whinge on.
Friday evening hubby and I were amusing bub whilst he had his dinner. Hubby was feeding him and I was hiding behind hubby and popping out to play peekaboo. Hubby was pretending to look for me, and headbutted me in the nose. Ouch. FFS.
Chai then decided headbutting me was a good idea so the next day he headbutted me on the cheekbone. FFS.
It hurt more than getting punched or knee'd in the face does. FFS.
Saturday evening Chai was doing his post shower nudie run. His latest trick is to hide behind the chair in his room and wee on the floor. FFS.
He thinks this is the funniest thing in the world and stands there giggling away. FFS.
Saturday he decided to up the ante and do a poo as well as a wee. FFS.
As I was trying to pick him up he tried to run away from me and stepped straight into the poo. FFS.
Hubby had to put him back into the shower whilst I cleaned poo out of the carpet. FFS.
That's about as exciting as our Saturday nights get. FFS.
Sunday morning bub decided to continue with the poo and spew game so spewed all over me. FFS.
I had to have a shower. FFS.
He then repeated the spew trick on Monday too. FFS.
I'm sure he's doing this because I have been so smug about him only ever spewing on hubby, so bub is now paying me back for said smugness. FFS.
In all the excitement of last week I forgot to mention that the PILs were here for the weekend. FFS.
As usual, MIL drove hubby and I crazy constantly telling us how to look after Chai. FFS.
At one stage I heard hubby tell her that he knows how to look after his own child and doesn't need her input. FFS.
Sunday arvo we were having a bbq and Chai was feeding himself with a metal fork. This gave MIL a heart attack and every time he put the fork in his mouth she winced and squealed. FFS.
Then we had the following conversation:
Hubby: Mum, you need to learn to...
Me (being very helpful): Shut up.
MIL: I'll always be a grandmother and that's what grandmothers do.
Me: My Mum doesn't tell me how to look after Chai.
MIL: We are all different.
Me: Yes, but if you know what you do annoys us then you should shut up.
MIL: We are all different.
Me: Yes, but you need to shut up and stop telling us how to look after our child. We've had him 19 months and we haven't killed him yet so I'm sure we will manage without you annoying us and constantly telling us what to do.
MIL: It's just what grandmothers do.
Me: No it's not, if it was my mum would do the same thing and she doesn't.
MIL: We are all different.
Me: Yes, so you've said, however you need to respect our wishes and shut up. You know it annoys us and if you care about us you will be considerate of our wishes and stop telling us what to do.
MIL: Oh well.
Remember last week I mentioned hubbys new car? I failed to mention that he has a wonderful knack for buying cars that cost us a lot of money. FFS.
The first car he bought after we got together cost us $10,000 because the motor blew up. FFS.
The second car cost us about the same as he blew the clutch not once but twice. FFS.
This car has already cost us a few grand and he's only had it a few weeks. FFS.
Firstly he put those stupid rims on it, then decided it needed a different exhaust (it didn't), and then the windows needed tinting. FFS.
Over the weekend he discovered that there was a leak in the car. FFS.
That cost us $444 and lots of my time to get fixed. FFS.
I had to take the car to the mechanic and come home on the bus with Chai. FFS.
I caught the bus back to the mechanic to pick up the car that afternoon but it wasn't ready, so I had to catch the bus home again. FFS.
Then I had to catch the bus back there yesterday to pick it up. FFS.
As I was leaving the mechanic I realised that the door lock didn't work, so now I have to go back there again on Monday to get that fixed. FFS.
As if I have nothing better to do. FFS.
The house next door is being renovated. Yesterday the outside was being painted. The painters were quiet all day, except for when Chai was having his nap. FFS.
They woke him up three times in an hour and a half. FFS.
I was trying to tidy up the house ready for our home open on Sunday, however when he woke up the third time I gave up and held him for 45 minutes whilst he slept. FFS.
This means that today, Saturday and Sunday I'm going to be running myself ragged tidying up the house. FFS.
Hubby is working all weekend so he can't help. FFS.
For the next six to eight weeks hubby will be working 13 day fortnights. FFS.
It's been four days and he's already whingeing about how tired he is. FFS.
Suck it up princess. You chose your career so don't whinge about it! FFS.
I'm such a good wife. FFS.
Yesterday I found out that two more of the women at playgroup are pregnant. FFS.
This means there are now seven of them who are pregnant. FFS.
I am not one of them. FFS.
I know I should be happy for them, but I'm not, I'm bloody jealous. FFS.
Have I mentioned recently that I'm doing Project 100 pan? No? Well I am. FFS.
For the uninitiated, this means that I have pledged not to buy any skin care, hair care, make-up or body care until I have finished 100 products. FFS.
Clearly I have lost my mind to agree to something like this. FFS.
And that wraps up my whingeing for this week. Have a great weekend!