I’m on top of the world

So last night I got an email from Amazon:

Dear Applicant,

Congratulations!!, you have been successful in your application with us as Seasonal Customer Service Associate (Talent Pool) as soon as the positions become available we let you know.

Thank you for your patience and going through the process thus far, we will keep you posted.

Regards
Recruitment Team

Yes I am currently doing a happy dance, well not right this second as typing would be hard but internally I’m doing the jig!

No idea yet as to starting dates but it’ll probably be in the new month. Good thing I did that shoot to cover this months dreaded debit orders…

It’s shift work so the great thing is that I’ll still be able to book shoots! Which is stellar news as even though the pay is okay it’s not exactly the kind that is substantial enough as a single income (anything below 10k is hard to stretch when you’re an only parent that believes maintenance is a cruel myth). The negative is that with shifts comes night shift so I’m going to need to look into getting a night nanny of sorts that will just be in the house while Fysh sleeps and who will not cost me my salary.

But hey, we’ll cross those bridges when the contract is signed! For now I’m just pleased that (even if it’s only for 3 months) I’ll have a set income, even though I walk away with sweet boggerall at the end of the day once bills are paid but the big thing here is that the bills will be paid!

where’s my daddy? is he dead?

I knew this day would come. I was hoping it would come along a little later than this but then again how can I be so naive when he’s started school, when he’s around other kids… Kids talk and ask questions.

We were walking in checkers yesterday perusing the produce isle when out of the blue Fysh asked me why he doesn’t have a daddy. I have had this conversation planned out in my head since forever, this dialog running through my mind and I knew exactly what I was going to tell him. Until he filled the awkward silence with a “because my daddy is dead hey.”

It was a statement not a question and he skipped on off and asked for a sterri stumpie. I just stood there floored. What do I do or say? How do I broach the subject of a willingly absent parent to a 3 ½ year old? How do I tell him that his daddy is not dead, that he simply left us for another family? That he would rather raise other men’s kids instead of his own? I spent many years hating biodad and it’s taken me a long time to reach this indifference I feel for him now. But that still doesn’t help my situation. I have never stopped him from making contact, he decided that all on his own.

It would be so much easier to agree with his “it’s because he’s dead” statement, it would save time and effort and help with those abandonment issues. But that would make me a liar and he already has a parent who willingly left, walked away from his awesomeness. I won’t stoop to that level. So what am I going to do? I have absolutely no fucking idea. Make damn sure he knows he IS worth being around, love him more than he can stand and hope that he doesn’t bring up the subject again I suppose…wpid-sign-off.png

There are few things more permanent than a name

This morning yet another follower asked me why I refer to Fish as “fish” and not by his given name. Most people think it’s so we stay anon on the net, this is partly true but anyone with half a brain could figure out our identity pretty easily.

Truth is that I never refer to him by his given name name, there are the odd occasions yes I suppose but they are few and far between.

So why fish then?
Because I despise his given name with a passion…

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Things with the biodad started going south about the time I fell pregnant, probably before then already but seeing as he blatantly denies his cheating even when the evidence has him by the balls I guess we’ll never know. Well this little rift between us seeped into EVERYTHING. Including the choosing of names. Though my dear family also had a hand in this naming thing…

Every name I suggested was shot down and ridiculed. I wanted Velkan. I would march on over to the department and change it today if it where possible. But of course it was shot down because who wants a kid named after a bird… Well how about Hunter? Are you stupid… And Griffin? No, Harry Potter is gay….

Are you seeing where this is going?

Well finally after being told “NO! urgh…” so often I decided to make a joke and suggested NOAH. Well guess what…
It became a bit of a joke, a nickname as such. The day he was born we were still argueing about names and I was still adamant on Velkan. The problem with having a prem baby, an abusive biodad and PND is that you throw your hands up and say “fok voort” just to make life a little easier for yourself – stupid mistake.

It’s 3 years down the line and I would rather call my child FISH than give in and refer to him by his certificate name. I despise it. Always have and if I haven’t gotten used to it by now I guess it’s safe to say I never will. Even he knows himself as Fish. At least I was smart enough to insist he gets my surname…

Anyone else in this boat or am I just a stupid psycho mum?

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i just need to vent okay? deal with it.

what if

If the weather matched my mood today it would be a crisis as we’d have a class TEN hurricane on our hands. Destructive, dangerous to be around, a little calm in the middle and then it hits you hard again … Continue reading 

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a little out of sync

My heart and my head aren’t quite in the same place at the moment, it’s really hard to explain but if you’ve been there you’ll know exactly what I mean.

I’m starting to think that our thoughts truly do run the course of our lives. I remember being in high school and joking that my first apartment will be shitty and pretty much falling apart and that I’d live off microwave foods and cry myself to sleep. That I’d get knocked up on a one night stand and end up a single parent and that I’d be really successful and marry my best friend…

Well I remember my first apartment, there was no kitchen just a microwave, the paint was peeling and the roof was black from mould. I got knocked up by a cheating asshole and got left to fend for myself and this little squirmy, colicky boy child. So far we seem to be pretty much on the right track don’t you think? Minus the me being really successful part and marrying my best friend. At this point I don’t see any sort of marriage happening and my best friend, well he’ll always be just that. My best friend.

I could curl up on my red couch with a blanket and a Cecilia Ahern novel, tissue strewn across the floor and an empty coffee mug clutched in my hands as I blew my nose causing me to boast that oh so sexy rudolph’s spinstress cousin look… but what would that help me? The world doesn’t give you a break; it never has and never will. Eventually I’ll have to peel myself off the couch and guess what, reality will still be there. Waiting for me to step out and realise that nothing has stopped, the world hasn’t slowed down and it’s sure as hell not going to wait around for me to catch up.

So what do I do? I work. I throw myself into it and ignore reality. Pretend that everything is okay even though it isn’t. I guess the good thing is that I can actually acknowledge that I do this now. That’s a step forward right? And soon I’ll be able to throw myself into studies AND work. How I’m going to actually afford the studies though I have no idea yet but I guess it gives me reason to work even harder and ignore the world.

And yes I am aware there are people far worse off than I am and I should be grateful for what I have but right now, this moment in time, I’m watching friends in their relationships, blooming and doing so well and great, work wise, love wise, everything wise. Sure they have their problems but you know what I mean. And yeah I’m jealous. I’d never give fish up, ever and I would fight tooth and nail to keep him safe but I can’t help but wonder what my life would be like if he wasn’t around.