Yikes

Well, you'll all be pleased to know I didn't pull any eyes out of sockets or hair out of scalps.  Instead I've been panicking about starting back at uni tomorrow.  I can't believe it. While I've been slaving away with summer semester, it does feel as if I haven't really left but I'm so nervous about walking back into that lecture hall. 

I feel as I did two and a half years ago when I did it for the very first time.  I'm filled with all the usual self-doubt - what if I can't find the room?  What if I get there and I'm not on the roll?  What if I don't understand the subject?  It's Desktop Publishing and I'm scaring myself stiff with imagining stupid things like not knowing how to turn the computer on; not understanding the terminology and yes, being the oldest in the class (that's a given - I usually am!).  But more importantly, what am I going to wear?  And far from being my usually organised self, I only today got my diary and lecture pad, having spent the last week frantically trying to finish another assignment for my summer class.

As I'm writing this I'm being looked at by the Dalai Lama, sitting above my laptop.  Underneath his picture I've written four of the basic 'rules' of Buddhism - Do what is good; Avoid what is evil (does that include wanting to rip into my daughters like a crazy cat?); Practice so that the mind is clear; and Karma.  At the moment, clearing my mind seems to be the only thing to do - breeaaaath...

Aaahhh... that's good.  Now it's back to this bloody assignment.

Mean girls

You know, sometimes I absolutely love having daughters.  Growing up in a household with three brothers, I yearned for a sister and swore I would have two little girls when I had babies.  As it turned out I did have two little girls, 21 months apart and it was heaven (well not all the time but most of the time).  Now that they're older, sometimes I feel so connected to them - like they're my best friends in the whole wide world.  And other times...I feel as if I could pull their hair out and scratch out their eyes, they're so mean to me!! Obviously when I'm feeling like that I walk away and count to ten, as my dear, sweet Nana used to tell me.

1...2...3...4...

Honkers

I have a horn and I'm not afraid to use it

Okay, I'll admit it...I'm a honker.  While I consider myself to be a very considerate driver, if you break the rules and cause harm to everyone else, I'll give you a honk!

The school drop off is the worst.  Parking on the very corner of the street, blocking all other traffic because you can't be bothered parking further away and your kid might get wet, entitles me to give you a honk.  Get him/her an umbrella!

Walking in the middle of the road because you don't want to get your tootsies wet on the footpath, warrants a honk - yes, lady, you're right, I am a bitch, so watch out.  It's been raining for three days solid, wear some boots! 

Sitting in the school two minute zone for TEN minutes, waiting for your kid who isn't there, stopping all other incoming traffic, justifies a honk - what, you think you're more important than everyone else?  Do the block.

Yes, I'm honkers and as long as people continue to be inconsiderate on the roads, I will continue to be.  HONK, HONK!

Slavery

Having scrubbed the house from top to bottom this morning, I am absolutely exhausted and utterly over being a 'domestic goddess'.  My hands smell of bleach and any thoughts I had earlier about getting it all done and then sitting in front of my books have gone out the window - my motivation is zero. 

I've been doing house work for almost twenty years and I don't want to do it any more!  I'm the only one home during the day, so it feels as if it's my 'job' but I really want to hand in my resignation.   The house is an all-consuming, devouring monster ready to chew me up and spit me out every other day of the week.  I got a housekeeper once about six years ago when I was working part-time and she lasted about a month - the guilt got me in the end.  I couldn't stand the thought of someone else cleaning my house when I knew I was perfectly capable of doing it myself.

What's the answer?  I wish I knew.  My little game of tough love hasn't really sunk in as yet.  I've removed and replaced the light bulbs so many times, I've realised I'm the only one suffering for that!  I've got a big box full of dvds, umbrellas, a dirty towel, an ipod charger and hair bands sitting in my walk-in robe and no-one's really missed them as yet.  I did have success with a pair of shoes I found sitting on the lounge for a couple of days.  After the owner spent the whole morning walking up and down the house screaming that she couldn't find her shoes, she went out in an old pair.  I casually put them in her room where they belong and that's where they've stayed ever since.

What's really scary is that this is what my life has become - thinking of new ways to teach everyone to pick up and moaning about having to do the bloody housework!