I went to the hotdog stand today, you know, to get a hotdog. I’m feeling pretty down and hotdogs are the ultimate comfort food after ice cold weetabix. I’ll need that, later.
The hotdogs are doused in mayo and ketchup, and dipped in diced, salted onions. I usually skip the pickles and mustard, coz I’m not a pickles-and-mustard kinda girl.
Today should be a good day. I mean, the office closes tomorrow, and I just found out I have 2 months worth of freelance work. Yay! Plus we get a Christmas bonus, and I can maybe hit the beach Friday.
So why am I so sad?
I’m having one of those … how long has it been? More than a week I think. Maybe it’s because the pretty boy that I adore is stuck in the middle of nowhere and I have no way to hug him.
Or maybe it’s because the Nanny just walked in and said, ‘We have no water! What are you going to do?’ I hate when she does that. She creates an impossible situation then wails, ‘What are you going to do?’ As in
- ‘Dada, it’s 2.00 a.m., the shops are closed, we have no bread for Princess’ breakfast. What are you going to do?’
- ‘It’s Friday morning. You always wear jeans on Friday. All your jeans are dirty. What are you going to do?’
- ‘You left me housekeeping money to last two weeks and went on a work trip. I finished it in three days. We can’t reach an ATM. What are you going to do?’
- ‘You’re late for work and I just burnt your favourite shirt. What are you going to do?’
- ‘I fought with princess over TV channels and she locked me out of the house. What are you going to do?’
Times like that it’s all I can do not to shove the dear girl’s head down the toilet and flush it.
I suggest a solution to the water problem: ask the landlord’s wife. She’s a sweet old lady, she will know how to talk her hubby into opening the well for us so we can fetch water. Nanny decides she doesn’t like this idea so she goes out, banging the door behind her, and all I can do is sigh and try not to scream.
Oh soap bubbles.
Princess decides to take advantage of the ‘nobody can see me’ moment and throws her food away. She hates eating. I am too tired to spank her so I give her some quiet time in the naughty-girl corner.
And the child falls asleep. Sigh. So much for punishment.
Granted I was in a foul mood when I came home. She asked me why I’m sad and I said I’m just tired.
“Mummy, you’re always tired.”
Yes I am. I’m stressed out. And I don’t even know why.
My face has been a mess lately. I’ve tried facials, steam baths, water … nothing works. It’s like I suddenly developed Achne. The bad kind. Even my boss has noticed. The lady at the salon figures it’s stress, but it won’t go away and I can’t make it stop 🙁
I can’t control my emotions. They just spiral and twirl away all on their own, and I hate that. It’s like being a teenager. Except I don’t have the reckless i-can-do-what-i-want trip. I can’t do whatever I want. I’m an adult and a mum. I have stuff to do.
I wish the pretty boy that I adore wasn’t so far away. Coz I could really use one of his famous fix-all hugs right about now.
I have to go listen to agonising screams plait my baby’s hair now. Sigh. Too bad my noise-blocking headphones are broken.
PS: The creepy black vampire guy in New Moon is Kenyan-born. His names’ Edi Gathegi. Sweet!!
♫ Secret smile ♫ Semisonic ♫
8 thoughts on “Blue. And not the good kind.”
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