Freaky Friday

So I think the shit has hit the fan… very slowly and very softly.

I thought it was very empathetic of my fiance to suggest that he would take on the chores, jobs and ball ache tasks I’ve been doing since the bear was born.

Why? You may ask… what has changed?

Well I’m no longer on Maternity Leave, I’m back at work, I’m a teacher and I genuinely don’t care what anyone says, it’s a fucking hard job and takes up a lot of your mental and physical strength PLUS I don’t have access to my bear 24/7 which is extremely fucking hard and rather upsetting – let me tell you.

Really upset, reduced to tears because I felt like my own son of 8 months hated me… and I think for a week he did… a little bit… or had a major strop due to the fact I’d upped and left him.

He loves me again now though and all is right with the world… although he is much too attached to his Grandad for my liking and will make friends with ANYONE… the kid has no sense of loyalty.

Anyway, where was I… no more Maternity Leave… so housework and child looking-after now becomes 50/50. I drew up a chore table, very specific (you may scoff – but my fiance is that lazy and useless he would seriously quite happily do fuck all, live in squalor and forget that we had a child together).

And he’s not done a damn thing on it. I have struggled for two weeks returning to work, dealing with the hate from an 8 month old and continuing to do all the housework.

And now he’s doing everything and he’s stuck in a Catch 22, either he admits it’s fucking hard and shares the load from now on OR he stays stubborn and says it’s piss easy and then great! He can do it forever. Sweet.

Why do I think the shit has hit the fan then? Because something is up… I feel He. Has. A. Plan. And I’m falling in to some sort of trap – his entire attitude is upbeat and he won’t let me do anything.

I shall wait and see… I’m hoping he’s that stupid and stubborn he will glide through the week stating how easy it has been and will therefore be doing it forever, rather than He. Has. A. Plan.

Update to follow. Fingers crossed for stupid and stubborn.

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Big and Strong huh?! 

This post touches upon a previous post about back seat drivers, in particular my partner. 

Suprise suprise, we’re back on him. 

Sooooo… He’s finally had his ‘morally in the right’ crash… and the kicker: I and my 6 month old child were there to witness it. 

Oh and the 93 year old woman he hit. 

On a roundabout she pulled out, it happened very slowly, in the sense if it had been a younger driver they’d have nipped out and beat us, partner would have beeped, sworn and moaned about the incident but we would have been safe, home and NOT dealing with the ambulance, police and miles of traffic we created. 

Upon reflection he couldn’t have avioded it, if he’d broken sharply someone would have gone into the back of us, if he’d swerved he would have hit a car and then it would have definitely been our fault. He had to take the hit, he had to plow into the 93 year old’s driver’s seat door, also the side my son was in… he was asleep and stayed asleep and thankfully was none the wiser. 

This is ‘upon reflection’. In my head though straight after, all I could think, and bring to mind was his idea of a ‘moral accident.’ 

And my anger kicked in, but because of the situation I had to control it, had to, and I did. I swore once, very quietly to him… but as I said, very quietly, he may not have heard it. Then I removed myself from the situation and therefore the anger, I had to look after the little man and get picked up by my dad, away from my partner. 

And my anger subsided, my rationality was restored and I was able to accept he had to take the hit, even though his world was in the car because any other alternative would have been a lot worse…. he was shook up he said because of the little bear in the car and for him to even admit that is, for want of better words, fucking crazy.

So, what an I taking from this? 

Walk away. Think. Come back… 

Calm.

The Mandela Effect

This is an interesting idea, effect, theory… The Mandela Effect. In extreme layman terms, and I mean extreme – people remember things that never happened, never were, never have been. The name is coined after Nelson Mandela, as many people would swear on their lives’ he died in prison in the 80s and not in his home in 2013… I definitely remember when he died… the glorious ‘signlanguageinterpretergate will be forever locked in my memory… probably wrongly, I have a deep admiration for that ‘interpreter’. 
If you think it sounds remotely interesting this link takes you to a layman’s blog which will then jumpstart your indepth, detailed and interesting research into the human brain and more specifically memory.

http://www.strangerdimensions.com

It even talks of alternative dimensions and as a new, hardcore fan of The OA I am so there, so interested, so deeply fascinated that choice could possibly fracture time into different dimensions, alternative dimensions, astounds and amazes me… and that items, thoughts,  memories can leak into my reality… holy shit. (Holy should be clapped out with at least five syllables when reading.) 

I’m a geek/nerd/whatever… it’s cool now don’t ya know. 

And I do have a point. 

The Mandela Effect happens in our house almost daily… daily dude! We must be at an alternative dimension hotstop/tear, as shit keeps leaking in all the time!! Our fights, conversations are always totally and utterly remembered differently EVERY SINGLY FUCKING TIME. 

And this makes me angry. Obviously, as this is what my blog is about. My anger. I was viciously angry today, so much so that I lashed out at the poor defenceless glove box with my foot, feet… okay feet, I gave it extra welly, or Converse in my case. I couldn’t use my hand as that’s already pretty bruised from my hammering of the stairs. (Never going into that one I’m afraid.) Therefore showing some sort of restraint, self-preservation on my part. Evidence of rational thought? Perhaps. 
Well done me though, I left that situation immediately… I mean my partner was dropping me off to tutor a Yr11 pupil, so I kind of was forced out and forced to calm down. However it really helped, and when my partner picked me up we got on with our happy lives as I didn’t blow up over the stupidest thing:

A misremembered conversation. 

We are both strong personalities. This is a fact and I am pretty sure we will go to our graves never admitted either is wrong unless proven by google, a third party witness, or a recording – visual or audio… I’m not picky. 

I mean obviously I was right and you’ll have to believe me because I’m writing the blog and he’s not, so screw him. I was right. And that’s why I get so angry. 

The question I ask myself though is when did I lose the ability to argue my rightness with a quiet calmness, dignity or even articulate and present well-reasoned points!? 

Was I ever able to? Or am I remembering my childhood, my life before my partner (Mandela Effect – hello!!) all wrong!? 

A misremembered conversation. In the grand scheme of things, looking back it does seem pretty petty. So if my partner had decided sooner he was going to drop me off and go shopping, rather than deciding 5 minutes before I had to leave (yes we were arguing about the timing of his verbal, outloud decision to go shopping… Pause for my embarrassment.) 

Would I have made my little boy’s milk and actually brought it with us? Would he have been happier, more content? Fall asleep later than he actually did, having a knock on effect that he went to bed an hour later as he didn’t fall asleep exhausted at 7.30pm… well only the alternative timeline that we have created will know if he grows up to be a totally different adult as a result. 

There have been bigger arguments and I’m sure there will be more, my solution is to start taping everything then how can he argue against taped evidence. Suck it bitch!! 

Back seat drivers. 

I’ve been driving since I was 18, I passed first time and everything!! 

I’ve had quite a few speeding tickets, a car stolen and one or two slight accidents. Pretty good on average considering I’m 32. 

So why the fuck do people think they can sit in my car and offer unsolicited advice, critque my driving and act like I’m some sort of manic murderer intent on killing everyone and myself via ten tonnes of steel! 

Today I took my partner to work, with my little boy in the back and twice, twice idiot drivers drove… well… idiotically. 

MY first instinct is to avoid a crash. To swerve and miss the idiot drivers and quietly curse them out inside my own car. I feel this is a legitmate instinct and reaction that would be common amongst any normal human being. Please correct me if I’m wrong. 

Avoid the crash. Avoid it at all cost. Right. 

Wrong according to my partner. I’m not supposed to swerve, I’m not supposed to avoid the crash, I can stop dead or carry on but I CANNOT SWERVE!! I have the ‘moral’ high ground, therefore if we crash and die, at least we will have died ‘morally correct’. Well gee thanks. I feel much better. Oh wait I’m dead so who gives a fuck! I can’t feel. 

The second idiot cut up a junction when turning, I did have to move, but I’m okay with that, I don’t need my day filled with dealing with a crash… this is of course assuming I don’t die. My partner pulled on the handbrake, got out of the car and followed the driver down the cul-de-sac, all the while screaming at me for swerving! TO AVOID THE CRASH… I cannot keep specifying that enough. 

Getting back in the car, he smugly states how suddenly the idiotic driver was so excessively apologetic. What’s your fucking point?!?!? 

So you’re perfect scenario, if we don’t crash, is to stop dead, exit my car, which more often than not has my infant son in, and confront the person in the car… who is usually a older, taller male (sorry that I’m perpetrating sterotypes but this is just my experience). To what end?? 

You, my partner, muscular, tall and willinging to punch a man who threatens to harm his child while driving, you can confront him. I, who, can deadlift 60kg on a good day, but has never been in a fight, still carrys some persistent baby weight, 5,5 and hates confrontation, or any contact with strangers will not. And no amount of shaming, lose of temper or general annoyance will make me. 

I was texted later that day with an enquiry about my day and a kiss at the end of the text. Holy shit… that means, without a shadow of a doubt, my partner knows what an absolute douche he has been and this is the closest I will get to an apology, well that and some really good sex later (Check). 

I’ll chalk today up as a win – common sense prevails… when I’m driving. When he’s driving. I fully expect his last words to be: “morally in the right.” And mine will be: “oh shut the fuck up…”