on my way to the tram stop on monday afternoon i was feeling ready for home. i'd had my fun. i'd stayed out till all hours, wandering the streets drunk after dancing all night. i'd had a quick feel of share house living. i lived the life of a richmondite and was ready to be a christies beachian again. having been home a little while now, i want to go back.

i havent handled this week very well at all. my tolerance for child noise is at an all time low. the boys came in to visit me at work today and i was happy to see their little faces and feel their beautiful hugs, but i was just as happy to see them go.
i stuck them both in front of the tv from 7:30 tonight. i actually thought it was earlier, it felt like hours but it was only 1. how many times did i ask them to be quiet in that hour? how many times did i threaten them with smacks that i couldnt go through with because i was frightened at my own strength/weakness?
i dont want to be a smacking mummy. i want to be a mummy who sees all those good things that kids do. like the bird that e made at childcare, like how x will talk about peoples feelings, why cant i concentrate on those? why am i thinking about how loud they are, how boisterous, how if they dont just shut the hell up and sit still for 5 fucking seconds im going to go insane...

its 9:20 pm. my house is quiet except for the clacking of keys and the swishy hum of my dishwasher. the dog is fed and the house is pretty clean.

im not happy