Professional Photos

I love getting my photo taken normally. I feel like people actually care when they decide to take a memory of me.

I hate looking at them though. It reminds me of how ugly I've allowed myself to be. Gross and disgusting.

So, when my sisters and I banded together and bought Mum a professional shoot of the four of us (three girls, one mum) I was horrified.

I was almost in tears at the idea of being in photos with my gorgeous sisters and people forever comparing them to me. I would always come up lacking if that's the case.

But actually, when I got to the shoot, I was happy. We were our normal disgusting selves - my sisters were insulting each other about their plastic surgery, touching each other's breasts and generally showing how gross as a group we can be. Not to fear though - I joined in on the insults and helped show the photographer how bad of a job mum did in raising ladies.

So, while I really don't want to see the pictures on the website today, let alone in print on anyone's wall, I had fun getting the photo for my mumma.

6 months

I've survived six months at the same school! I am so happy. :)

I've got permanency and I know I'm going back there in July, but I tell you, after the last few years with the instability of contracts that end every six months, (even if they end up being renewed like in the UK) I actually started packing away and saying Goodbye to everything in my mind. Then I realised - you'll be back next term!!!

I am so grateful for the stability that I have now.

let's hope that gratefulness opens me up for friends and a partner

Birthday

Horrible mental health day yesterday. Very angry at people.

Went to the party and after a vodka and a few hours of baby hugs, all is well again.

Saturday

8am.
    Woke up to my alarm. Turned it off and went back to sleep.

11am.
    Woke up to my Dad and Step-mother talking. Went back to sleep.

12 noon
    Woke up to Dad knocking on the door, telling me "it's midday M. Time to get up."
    Get up, even though I think, "I'm 28. If I want to sleep the day away, can't I?"
    Dad turns on Dr Who over the sports and gives it about 5 minutes before it annoys him and he gets up and
            leaves. It's such a generous gesture that I watch it even though I've seen it before.
1pm
    Answer the phone to the Everton Park Tavern and tell them that, yes, the booking stands, but can we add
           4 seats?  
    Head to Stafford City to see "Pirates 4". The joy of being in the city!

That's it so far!

I'll let you know later what comes next.

RSVPs

are important people!

I don't care that it's not for a wedding. I don't care that it's not for a baby shower. I don't care that it's not for something that is 'noteworthy'.

I am inviting you to go out to dinner with me and my family to celebrate my birthday. Now, I know you've got your 'lovely, beautiful, handsome' baby to look after and your 'hunky, god-like' husband to consult. It shouldn't take too long to decide.

You: "I know it's only a week's notice but M invited us for dinner. Are we doing anything on Saturday?"
Him: "No, not that I can think of."
You: "It'd be good to go, but we've got the baby and that's just so hard to deal with. Our incredible doting parents just wouldn't want to baby-sit for a couple of hours!"
Him: "No, I guess they wouldn't."
You: "Ok, so are we going or not?"
Him: "She did fly home from Canada to go to our wedding, and did drive a 12 hour return trip for your two hour baby shower. Do you think we should go to her birthday?"
You: "It's not a significant birthday, it's just 29. But she doesn't really ask us to do anything and is always there for us."
Him: "So we go?"
You: "Let's not decide yet. Let's wait until 5 days after the RSVP and less than 24 hours before we're supposed to be there to let her know that yes, we're coming and that she needs to make sure that there is enough room for our super-dooper gigantic (fuck off unnecessary) pram!"
Him: "Ok. Let's do that."

So, yeah. RSVPs are there for a reason. I made the booking 5 days ago. I now have to ring up the restaurant and not only add two extra seats to a table of 13, but ensure that they are aware that an extremely large pram will be arriving and, no, you are not going to just park it to the side, but will need it right next to you, taking up a place at the table.

Oh for God's sake!

That's it. No mothers are invited to my dinners ever again.

*Unless they're CJ's Mum, who had the courtesy to reply before the RSVP and ask for a high chair politely and told me not to stress too much, 'cause he could sit on everyone's laps 'cause he likes being passed around.*