Baby I'm bored

Speaking of precious cargo and parents... A month ago, I finished my working day and found myself at a seminar.
M E N T A L. What on earth will I do next? Well probably not further study at this point in my mind.

Oh brother, sitting in that seminar discussing literature with the dense, the conceited and the intense was worse than any of my many HSC/varsity nightmares.

Following some excruciatingly stupid, predictably petty observations about a particular writer, this person who had already demonstrated that she was the class's empty vessel asked/announced, in ponderous, moronic tones:

“ But HOW do you continue to find the energy, the ability to tap into your creativity, restock your stores, when you are a MOTHER and you give and give and G I V E?"

I’ll give you something, fecund, proud and procreation should not have been allowed. How about multi-tasking. Isn’t that what you 702/774 mums are renowned for? You're a mother and you're an insufferably annoying article; 10/10 so far, mumsy. I squirmed and submerged the lower half of my face under the polo neck of my powder blue jumper.

It takes a nanosecond to make a child and a lifetime of monopolizing any conversation to validate that choice. Put that thought on the foot of your desk calendar page, mater!