I've lost my marbles. I've gone loopy, lost the plot. The kids are currently swimming in a lounge room sea of toys, toast and clean laundry that was folded ready to be put away. I am so sick and tired of hearing my own voice that I've given up on trying to direct traffic this morning. I am battling a shitty cold and most probably a chronic case of PMS and as if that isn't enough; we are out of coffee.
It has occurred to me in the past that maybe I put a little too much pressure on myself. I recently quit my full time job because working 50 + hours and keeping up with the circus of being a wife, mother, housekeeper, cook, cleaner, laundromat, dog walker and groomer etc. etc. was turning me into a balding, babbling idiot. The icing on the mamma-guilt cake was that Axel suddenly started begging not to go to daycare. So I waited until it was financially viable for us as a household and quit my job. I took an awesome month off (annual leave, I love you) and enjoyed the wedding of my dreams and a honeymoon period that went beyond just ten days in Bali. Lots of spending and eating and drinking. Naturally as soon as we got back to normal I've taken on more work than was originally planned, including two days of babysitting my baby niece. That means I'm working seven days a week. Oops.
So something has to give, and today it's.. well, everything. Axel has been yelling at me for this whole post because he said PEANUT BUTTER NOT JAM on his toast. Tilly was chewing the computer cords for much of this post but I got up a moment ago and put her in her highchair with a scone to chew on. She is staring daggers at me; maybe she doesn't like date scones. I would normally be raging about the laundry because if there is one motherfucking chore I hate to do it's fold laundry, but today I am choosing to ignore it. Future Amy's problem. At some point I will have to tend to the children again, but for now it's me time, suckers.