Maternity leave hasn't exactly helped things in that department either. Now that my expenses are higher than they've been in my entire life (having opted to skip the more expensive hobbies like cocaine and betting on the ponies in my otherwise ill spent youth), I've probably got less money than that chick who asked me if I wanted fries with that last time I ate at McDonald's.
I'm on maternity benefits. Yes, I'm drawing a pogey cheque, such as it is. So now we've degenerated from a beer budget to a lemonade one and when I say I'm on a lemonade budget, I'm talking a No Name lemonade drink crystals 2 years past their best before date budget here, people. Yes, we've got paid maternity for up to 1 year but who the hell can live on that here in Vancouver?
Doesn't the government know I've got a 19 pound kid who eats like her father, grows like a weed, and blows through diapers like they are free? (which I assure you, they bloody well aren't!) Doesn't the government care that my child is not even 6 months old and she's wearing stuff that is supposed to fit a 9 to 12 month old? If I put her in her 6 month clothes, someone's gonna call the authorities 'cause it'll look like I'm trying to cram her into Barbie clothes...which I couldn't afford anyway.
(Oh and in case you were wondering: the government really doesn't care. I checked.)
S
o when you're driving home from work tonight and you see that crazy woman at the side of the road with the sign that says "Will Blog for Diapers" dig deep and toss a few her way because that crazy chick is probably me. Ah, let's be honest here..."probably" is inaccurate. She totally IS me.
