Dexter …I’d marry you if there wasn’t laws against it ‪#‎bostonterrier‬

I have a sleep disorder that appears to be linked to my Depression and General Anxiety Disorder.  The short of it is that I am exhausted at night, but either cannot fall asleep, or I fall asleep and then wake up at about 02h00 and cannot fall asleep.

I have tried several things, but at the end of the day a good night’s sleep is often the cure for many of the ailments that we start looking for remedies for.

Being a funny old world, the less I sleep the more anxious and stressed I become.  Then the less I sleep.  Isn’t that a hoot?  No, not even a bit.

I take two sets of medication at night.  One to make me fall asleep.  And another to keep me asleep.  Works like a bomb.

With one unfortunate side effect.  I often get a strange amnesia before I drop off to sleep.  I appear to be functioning normally, but my brain has actually switched off, and I often realise in the mornings I have done some weird and less than wonderful things.

Yesterday morning I woke up to find that I had posted passionate devotions of love and potential marriage to my dog.  Along with a few photographs.  I am really glad the photos were of him and not “us.”

Listen, I like my dog, I am just not sure I am quite ready to marry him, just yet,

dexter_closeup

Fuck, I’m going to miss you.

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I just locked myself out of Facebook ….

I just locked myself out of Facebook.

Stupid giant fingers.  Stupid small keys on my iphone.  Stupid sleeping medication that was kickig in.

I am out of Facebook.  In error. I wasn’t trying to teach myself a valuable lesson about social media and how I should make better life choices.

I can’t believe how abandoned and lost I am feeling without access to Facebook.  The kind folks at Facebook said they have reset my details but for my own safety I need to wait 23 hours and 59 minutes before I am permitted back onto the Facebook playground.

They really should have a similiar thing for drunk Facebooking —- anyway, I am in time out until I am allowed back.

Carry on as you were!

The Reluctant Mom over on Facebook …

Contrary to popular belief I am not terribly good with working out how to get my blog, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and all the other bits and pieces of social media to work together.

I think partly I am too shit scared I will break something.

I quite like Instagram, but I often forget to take photos of my food.

Twitter is lost on me.  There is so much retweeting, and cross referencing and retweeting retweets that link back to a person or a product …. at 144 characters it really seems like way too much frkn effort.  But there are like 45 million users in South Africa, there are just not 45 million and one.

I am really not sure anyone wants to hear from me that much to want to know what I ate for breakfast  and why I think that the sunset in Cape Town is just t0o fucking fantastic today (we have sunsets in Cape Town every day …. without fail) …. I am pretty sure no one should be subjected to that much of me.  Ever.  Without a script of Xanax.

Any the who.

I set up a The Reluctant Mom’s Blog Facebook page some time ago, but I fucked it up a bit with the settings – somehow Idid.  True story.  I have taken another run at it and here is the New and yet “no friends” The Reluctant Mom Facebook Page.

That’s me.  Johnny No Mates.  And yes this is a cry for attention.

Why else do you think bloggers blog?  Do you actually think we are doing it for any other reason that we are desperate for the “you like me, you like me” vote.  Blogger “must be liked” complex, no matter how much we act all like we don’t really care what people think or say.

Here is a clue, if a blogger really did not care what anyone thinks or says because they don’t care, they would set their blog to private and only invite their mom, a guy in Parow named Schalk, and their uncle Herman.

Sad, but true.  Bloggers are naturally people-media-stranger whores.  We just do it for free.  So there people is the great debate unraveled for you.

If you are on Facebook and want to toddle along and hook up with me. Then here we go: http://www.facebook.com/ReluctantMom

I will promise you that I will not do many status updates. I tend to forget it is there.

I promise I will not keep you updated on much, again because I am a bit slow that way and will forget.  You may have a few in the first month, but I can almost guarantee it bottoming out from there.

I promise that I will never ask you to enter something on my blog and then go like my facebook page, and then wear your panties on the outside to buy bread and Pick ‘n Pay.  Seriously I pinkie promise.

I probably I will not keep telling you how fantastic my kidlets are.  If I ever call my children “kidlets”, I give you permission to come over to my house and stab me with a stick of Prestik.  In the neck.  Repeatedly.

I also promise never to call Kennith my hubby and post how much I love him – because really if I cannot pick up the phone and leave a message on his phone saying just that, then why the fuck must I tell you?

There we go – those are the rules I promise to play by in Facebook world.

I also promise to also never refer to anyone who is pregnant as preggy.  Seriously if I do, realise it is a cry for help.  Come over with a bottle of wine and a shotgun.  Bottle of wine for you.  Shotgun for me.

Facebook Hangover

The Reluctant Mom on Facebook.

The deep question that is ….

My brother posted this question on Facebook earlier today.

It is one of  those things that I have struggled with, and in some instances I have stood on top of the molehill and screamed “I am the King of the World” and in many cases I have been driven over by the proverbial 18-wheeler.

I spent much of today trying to write a post in answer to this question, but I got a bit stuck in my own stuff.

As you do.  Or as I do.

Maybe you know the answer – or can put some light on that path where we often find we stumble:

Question: When do you get to a point where you stop paying for the mistakes you’ve made in the past? Is that the point where you forgive yourself or when you stop seeking forgiveness from others?

 

Profound much?  My head is starting to hurt from the bigness of it all.

My friends are posting ….

I don’t think I am serious enough for Facebook some days …..