Friday, July 29, 2011


On Gregory’s last day off work, I arranged to leave Miss Q to tutor a lovely young lady who is down to the final few for the title role in the upcoming Australian production of Annie.
(Go Em Go. Belt the be-jesus out of that song) 
I tell ya, that is a tough rep for anyone, let along a ten year old.

Upon my return, not two hours later, Gregory loudly proclaims that while I was gone Miss Q crawled.

I did not see it therefore it did not happen.

I do not get to do 
98% of the crappy nappy changes, 
100% of the crappy nappy washes, 
90% of the baths (not G’s fault owing to his back), 
97% of the whinges, 
100% of the night-time wake-ups (also not G’s fault as he is our financial backer and needs his rest for work and she is a breastfed baby) 
87% of the food preparation and 
96% of the tantrums 
and not get the good stuff.

Her first word – suitably – was Mama. But I am somewhat aware that it is also her favourite vowel and consonant combo and therefore not a certainty that she is saying my name, but rather just her usual nonsensical babble.
Still, I’ll take it.
She says it far more often than Dada.
Ha. So there, Gregory.

I expect her first steps to be straight into her mother’s loving arms.
Her first hug to be around my neck.
Her first ‘I love you’ directly to my face.
I am the person she shall miss most on her first sleepover.
My name is the one she shall utter when she trips over on the skipping rope at school.
My voice is the one her head shall turn for when surrounded by a group of adults.

I grew her. I carried her. I protected her. I birthed her.
I am her mother and she is my girl.

In further attempts to find haphazard employment this week I…

·               was rejected by Random House because my manuscript doesn’t fit their line-up. (Which is publishing speak for ‘you suck.’ It’s just like when you audition and they say ‘thank you’ which really means ‘sod off and don’t quit your waitressing job’).
·               Went to a casting for a wine ad – momentarily getting confused between Jacob’s Creek the wine and Dawson’s Creek the TV show and making myself look a little foolish. Then having my chances further sabotaged by being forced to audition with Australia’s version of Arnold Schwarzenegger without the Kennedy connection.
·               Accidentally submitted to an agency twice, thereby making myself look like a total try-hard loser and ensuring being black-listed by that particular firm.
·               Forgot the password for my online audition places and then ran out of no-Q time to fix the problem before she awoke.
·               Tried to do fancy-pancy cross-linking commenting with my blog to other blogger sites, which is apparently the best way build traffic, but probably just made me piss them off and look like the total novice that I am.

All of which leads me to believe quite strongly that I should in fact remain the fulltime carer to the divine Miss Q and never go back to work ever again.

Have you ever heard a more convincing argument for unemployment?


  1. I just get pregnant each time the husband suggests I go back to work. It's worked so far ;)

  2. HA! how many kids have you got????!!!!! heading over to your site now. thanks for visiting, xx

  3. Sounds like a plan to me! I have something similar in mind. Just need to have the kid first :-)

  4. Oh me too. Looking after 3 is busy enough without a 'day job'.


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