I’m skipping New Years.
‘What are you doing for New Years?’
I love it when people ask me this question.
Well it’s a bloody Sunday Susan so I suppose we’ll just do what we do every Sunday and do some gardening and then watch some TV before bed.
I need to put on those heels, and dance my way into a date night. Who Am I kidding ; I need to put on some clean converse and walk appropriately because I don’t want to sprain anything before date night. I’m going to wear that sexy perfume; you know the one; you’ve had it for seven years so it’s probably gone off by now but you only use on special occasions ; Yeah that one. I’m gonna struggle my way into some spanx and convince my stomach its a size 12 when it’s really a size 16 . Okay, okay; 18. This always seems like a good choice; Look at me all packaged in. Dam girl. Until the third course at dinner- lord help me. I’m going to shave my legs; oh shit I forgot: I had full intention of shaving my legs, yeah that’s right , watch out husband: full intentions. I’m going to put on the dress, the one that makes you feel like your 19 again, for me it more makes me feel like a princess ; if I was 19 again I’d be a little too drunk off passion pop and probably yell at Dave for flirting with the waitress. And No one needs that on date night. Im going to leave the kids with their grandparents, with full knowledge they’ll have more sugar then they’ve had since Easter and probably stay up later than we’ve ever allowed but I don’t care – what happens with the grandparents stays with the grandparents; they can eat a McDonald’s skittle sandwich for all I care. I’m not going to check my phone. Except to check the weather tomorrow and when Stacey’s birthday is and also if the children are okay but I’m definitely not going to check that random text message; except it could be important; it could be about the kids? I’m going to have a wine before I go and two wines during dinner and then realize I’m shit faced. Because I can only drink wine on my lounge; if I drink in public I’m strangely outside my comfort zone and then I realize I’m outside near people and we need to get home. Then I will absolutely not fall asleep, fully clothed, on top of a pile of clothes I tried on that did not fit because I’m a mum now and I have curves in all the places; places I didn’t even know you could get curves. The husbands excited. I’m excited. TONIGHT WERE GOING ON A DATE NIGHT ????????
And maybe we’ll buy an extra large pack of sparklers – that we’ll forget to set off until next year.
Let’s just get real.
Easter hunts – a blast.
Christmas morning – sensational!
Birthdays – hit and miss.
But New Year’s Eve?
We have six tiny devil people that after eight pm turn into little predators of the night, so the thought of taking them out in public; around people; seems a bit bat shit crazy.
And I need a damn break.
Christmas was a blast but god it’s hard work but then you want us mums to pick up where left off seven days later and organise some other occasion?
Piss off mate.
And as much as I’d love to post a beach selfie of our family and write some rubbish underneath like “bringing in 2018 with my favorites and the ocean,” my photos of lies can f**k right off.
Ask for help. Or forever hold your bladder. Okay so I was looking back through my photos and it’s so rare where I would find one with all eight of us together! Dave and the kids, dave and a plant, dave at a restaurant, dave in his new shirt. You get the point. A hella-of- allota Dave. He’s pretty but jeebus. So during our amazing holiday @paradiseresortgc I was determined to get my mug in some photos with my children and my David! I had decided enough was enough I’m going to ask for other people to take photos of all eight of us at our favorite places- like this little gem of us @movieworldaus enjoying ice creams… I always felt bad about asking other people to take a photo. I don’t want to intrude on their day out, with their “normal” amount of children. But lately I’ve said “fuck it”. Im gonna ask for help. And you know what; gosh we’ve met some lovely people! Whether that be taking a photo or taking them all to Christmas Carols and getting help rounding em up or going on a shopping trip . I can’t do it all and I definitely can’t manage to do that camera Timing thing, literally there is some things in life I’ll never learn and that’s one of them. Look they are our six children and we Absolutly raise them ourselves to the best of our ability. And Im pretty sure like most of you were doing a kick ass job! But, whether you have one child or twelve, now and then you need some help. Like when your busting for a pee in the middle of a school concert and you don’t feel like a five person Audience….. It doesn’t make ya weak or a bad parent. It’s makes us better parents. I love, love, love that I have lots of friends and family to help, occasionally a stranger named Beatrice. I used to feel sick asking for help… sick I tells Ya; I bloody know; sounds stupid doesn’t it? But I thought I’d be judged or I thought Id have to show a certificate first to prove I can do it all because I have six and if I can’t do it all; I shouldn’t of had them. Well fuck that. I had six babes. And I’m Done holding my bladder and my breath. I’m gonna ask for help when I need and I hope you do to. More on Facebook or link in bio xx
I really don’t feel the need to do a headcount every 48 seconds, while I’m bellowing at Dave on a busy beach, “Where’s Sylus, where the f is Sylus?” only to find he’s found another family he likes better than us and we’re not needed anymore.
Or try and work out a plan for Emerson (our one year old) who’s plan is and will always be “eat all the sand and rocks and seaweed”.
And then the heat. Lets talk about Australian heat on New Year’s Eve.
Listen: What is the mental load of parenting? Post continues after audio.
Well it’s terrible. It’s make me sweat in places I’ve only seen when I’ve accidentally bent over in front of a mirror; after a shower.
And you know what heat? Just no.
And I never know what to wear because I want to “embrace my curves” but I also don’t want to scare small children. So then I end up wearing “layers”.
It’s 42 degrees Krechelle; take your f**king kimono off.
You know what else team?!
New Years “eve”.
Its held in the “eve”.
I just wanted to reiterate that.
It’s all through out the EVE.
And I don’t want to do anything in the eve.
I’m skipping New Years. Why as parent were doing nothing for New Year’s Eve ever. What are you doing for New Years? I love it when people ask me this question. Well it’s a Bloody Sunday Susan so I suppose we’ll just do what we do every Sunday and do some gardening and then watch some tv before bed. And maybe we’ll buy an extra large pack of sparklers- that we’ll forget to set off untill next year. Let’s just get real. Easter hunts- a blast. Christmas morning- sensational! Birthdays- hit and miss ???????????? But New Year’s Eve. We have six tiny devil people that after eight pm turn into little predators of the night, so the thought of taking them out in public; around people; seems a bit bat shit crazy- in the eve. And I need a dam break. Christmas was a blast but god it’s hard work but then you want us Mums to pick up where left off seven days later and organize some other occasion. Piss off mate. And as much as I’d love to post a beach selfie of our family and write some rubbish underneath like “bringing in 2018 with my favorites and the ocean”. My photos of lies can fuck right of. I really don’t feel the need to do a headcount every 48 seconds, while I’m bellowing at dave on a busy beach “where’s sylus, where the f is sylus” . Only to find he’s found another family he likes better than us and we’re not needed anymore. Or try and work out a plan for Emerson(our one year old) ; who’s plan is and will always be “eat all the sand and rocks and seaweed” She’s great value. But not at the beach. At the beach she has no value. And then the heat. Lets talk about Australian heat on New Year’s Eve. Well it’s terrible. It’s make me sweat in places I’ve only seen when I’ve accidentally bent over in front of a mirror; after a shower. And You know what heat. Just No. And I never know what to wear because I wanna “embrace my curves” but I also don’t want to scare small children. So then I end up wearing “layers” It’s 42 degrees krechelle; take your fucking kimono off. BLOG CONTINUED on my website link in bio or Facebook. Happy bloody New Years. ???? Xx
Except for eat chocolate and drink wine in my onesie. That I bought because my one year old always looks so damn comfortable in hers and one day, I got jealous.
And I don’t want to freak you out.
But there are… people out there.
And on New Year’s Eve – it’s the best of the best.
Real life people.
And they smile and are loud and around and on New Years eve….. they are around; f**king everywhere. With their f**king smiling.
So to answer your question; plain and simply.
What are we doing this New Year’s Eve?
The children will go to bed at appropriate o’clock and Dave and I will fall asleep on the couch at 10 o’clock and then we’ll wake up it will be 2018.
And I’ll start it how I start every year; with the best of intentions, a green smoothie that tastes like lawn cuttings and makes me shit my pants.
It’s coming up.
A day they’ve decided turns into a new year, where life continues.
And nothing changes.
Happy f**king New Years.
This was first published by EightAtHome. Read the original here.
What are your New Years plans? Let us know below.