Don't you hate it

More sitting at puter, Monkey Boy at gymnastics camp again (coming home very tired, so its great!)

Tired, tight and in need of a massage. The headaches will not let up.

Working conditions are also not the best when you’re a work at home mum.

For example, chatting on the phone to a business contact with a Godzilla thinking it hilarious to walk in, pants down and yell “Mummy, look at mine bum!”

Can’t get a decent cup of coffee. Unless, of course, I make it myself. And for anyone else who happens to be there.

And then Monkey Boy comes home, and runs around the house with balls up his shirt yelling “I’ve got big boobies like you, mummy!”

While I was on another call.

Who is I lodge my complaint regarding sexual harrassment in the workplace to?

Rang the massage place, and got one for the evening! Wow, I love it when things work out like that.

Until I got there. My regular (I use the term loosely – I don’t know that 3 times a year at irregular intervals counts as regular, but there you go!) massuese is no longer there!

So have to go through the whole getting to know another one.

And she just didn’t do it right.

I hate that.

Came home to a showdown between Grumpy Pants and Monkey Boy!

Which was a huge help.

Locked myself in bathroom, in warm bath. Didn’t keep the noise of the showdown out. Or the three year old tantrum. But it did help me to think “calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean” just that little bit better.

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