I recently quit my job of 13 years.
13 years of solid, faithful, hard work for the same company. The one and only only place I’ve ever called ‘That soul sucking void of indentured misery.’ for my entire adult working life.And I’m proud to say that I finally left that place to take up freelance writing like I’ve always wanted to.
Freelance writing and *cough* stayathomedad *cough cough*.
Well, for now. Until I can get some part time work.
The real reason I left my job of over a decade wasn’t so much that I got so very good at my hobby that I could quit work and reap a living from my flourishing field of words. It was actually because the wif, who is INCREDIBLY skilled, got a higher paying job in a place where everything doesn’t cost mining grade money while nobody works in a fucking mine anymore!
Which means we can actually do things now. Like go out for a coffee. Not sit in a car parked next to a cafe with our Tupperware cups full of Nescafé blend 43 trying to sponge up some dregs of the atmosphere until they come out and tell us to rack off or they’ll call the police.
Before I go further. Shout out to the wifs family especially her sister. Who got us all set up to walk off a plane and into a fully furnished unit, stocked fridge, two cars, everything we need till our shit arrives. I couldn’t have tricked my way into a better family.
So we’re in Tasmania in a small 2 room rental as opposed to our big 4 bedroom and I’m looking after the ‘terror on two legs’ while the wif is at work. Which wouldn’t be so bad if our spawn would actually sleep of a night rather than having a spastic coughing party each evening this week from 10pm till about 1am. Then having to come into our bed once she’s woken again at 4 for what I like to call, ‘Happy fun thrash around and shout for two hours while kicking dads balls and head-butting anyone within reach of my tiny bowling ball of a head time!’
Yesterday was my first day on the job after a night just described. I’ve looked after the drooly unruly beast solo before, its no biggie, but not in a brand new environment where NOBODY in the house has had sleep for a week.
Here’s some bullet points of the shit that went down yesterday.
• As mentioned, the day started at the days start. 12am. In actual fact the day had started two hours earlier, also known as ‘The night before’. You know the old saying ‘Everything will look better tomorrow’? When your kids screaming and coughing in your arms, and your bloodshot eyes look down at your phone and see it roll from 23:59 to 00:00, signifying that it is in fact tomorrow now; you kinda lose a little faith in bullshit quotes. I’m looking at you David Avocado Wolfe…
• I got kicked in the balls and head-butted at 5:20. Who the fuck needs an alarm clock when you got a one year old?
• Before leaving for work the wif looked me in the bloodshot baggy eyes with her own carbon copies and said ‘You look terrible’ then kissed me, and left the house to go play with grownups and I assume have a nap in her lunch break. I stood at the door sobbing for 3 minutes trying to remember what sleeping felt like while ‘Cold water blues’ by the wiggles reverberated through the shattered fragments of my mind.
• Breakfast was eggs. Which were thrown off the highchair like my sanity from a cliff. Then weetbix which were splattered next to the eggs like my patience from… a cliff. Finally I stormed over to the cupboard, grabbed a slice of bread, Frisbee threw it at her highchair table and sat down to drink my coffee. She palmed it to her face, ate a hole in the centre and wore it as a bracelet while she applauded my misery.
• For some super neat reason the spawns bedroom is the one with the ensuite. Which in theory is great because it means I can close her bedroom door and go to the bathroom without her being in there with me AND without her setting something on fire or tripping over her feet and exploding like an atom bomb on impact wiping out the entire south east coast of the state.
• In practice she MUST be in there with me! If the ensuite door closes at any given time while her bedroom door is also closed a sonic howl is emitted that fractures bullet proof glass. No bother, she can play in her room while I have the door open.
• Nope. ‘If dad is pooping I MUST be there to assist by pulling his leg hairs, ripping at the TP and, when he’s not looking, trying to shove my hand between his ass and the toilet seat!
• Nap time came around but the house is so small and her room is attached to the living area/kitchen/squeaky floorboard dodging zone. Plus she’s not sleeping well. Nap time was spent making my way over to my tablet to type. Which was too loud, so I used a notebook. Which scratched too loudly. So I sat still on a stool and tried to cry nice and softly while the earworm that is ‘Cold water blues’ played on repeat in my head.
• The plus side is this only lasted for about a half hour cause who the fuck needs sleep?!
• Because I was too scared to shower while she slept for fear of waking her, I had to shower in the ensuite when she was awake. Joy.
• I got in the shower. I’d forgot my towel. The one hanging up was a bath matt. She was blocking the door by squatting down and pressing her face on it (not creepy) so that if I opened it she would slip and split her skull open. Fuck.
• I go about my shower, she helps by opening the door. Water is everywhere.
• I scold her and close the door. Scolding is her cue laugh and run away.
• She slips like a cartoon character on the wet floor and totally eats shit. I try my best not to laugh.
• I drag the bath towel over, trying to console her while also trying not to get her wet and soapy because getting her into her clothes for the day was a fucking wrestling match. Shower is cut short.
• I dry myself with a bathmat.
I won’t bore you with the rest of the day, just the first few hours. Our day went south from there anyways. I think my mother messaged me at one point. I don’t know how one can snap at another in a text message but I’m almost certain I did.
Day two was today and she slept last night so it was a polar opposite but, as you can see from me chronicling a morning the night after it happened, I got ZERO writing accomplished yesterday. Which is a stellar start to a new writing career.
I have no idea what the rest of the week holds for me and my little half-of-me horror but I can tell you one thing right now. If you see a parent outside of the house with their children, and they’re NOT in their track pants, and its before 10am, you go up to them and you hug them tight. Then congratulate them on making it.
Because they’ve accomplished something fucking magical.
That person wont be me for another several months.