Glamorouse

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I really need to go to bed, but

Suse did this on her site and I really liked it as a concept. I figured I had made you all endure sooo much of my wailing, gnashing of teeth and crying that I should give you some glimmer of hope as hell, I want you to come back and visit not just to see how derailed the train is or worse, just slowing down to rubberneck the wreck that is left. Even if that is what I would do... SO... five things I did on the weekend 1. Cooked brunch for 11 adults and 7 kids to help celebrate Oscar's birthday. 2. Sat outside with two Sunday papers and the Saturday SMH and read them all. Almost. 3. Made a kick-arse chocolate cake 4. Ate more chocolate on Saturday than I have consumed in the previous 13 months. 5. Hosted Felix's first friend sleep-over (and sent them to bed early because MY GOD the testosterone driven competitive "I won" "No, I won" banter is something I can only live with oh, TWELVE hours a day) UPDATE on the return to work world: Day two of bus travel and I can kinda feel the pressure I am putting on myself easing a little. Someone offered me a seat this morning (as opposed to me having to ask) and he was asleep before Collaroy again. He also fell asleep in my arms this afternoon, with dappled sun across his face as we crossed the Harbour Bridge. This child is such a gift. You are all on notice to remind me of this when I belly-ache about how sick I am of the bathroom smelling like wee and grossing you all out with moaning about why Why WHY do boys need to piss on the floor as much as they do in the toilet when he's older and toilet trained. And stuff. Oscar is in the midst of his 10 day intensive swim school program - where they walk the kids 20 minutes to the nearest ocean pool, give them a swim lesson (free) and then walk them back to school for the rest of the day for two whole weeks. Every day. It has been relatively hitch free and my whole anxiety attack about it going to fall in a heap is seeming a little silly. It is this sort of program that was one of the main motivators for mainstreaming him. That he has the right, the RIGHT, to the events, opportunities and experiences offered to every other child his age. And here he is, having that opportunity and you should have seen him tonight telling me all about it! The most pressing thing at the moment is producing enough breast milk to get two full bottles for Jasper for daycare days. I can feed him when I drop him off, but that makes me late to work and really, I'd rather he get a bottle, I get to work early then leave early and get home at a reasonable hour to spend some time with the bigger boys. I'm still going to the centre at lunchtimes to do that feed. The last two nights I got up during the night - once at 1.20 and last night at 3.20. this is OK in that I get 180ml or so, but then getting back to sleep is an issue due to my current state of mind so I'm awake for 1.5-3 hours during the night. Tonight I stayed up late to pump now instead of in the middle of the night and only got 80ml. So check in at around 2, I'm sure you'll hear my squeaky pump...g'ah.

3 Comments:

Blogger BabelBabe said...

"glimmer of hope as hell" - typo or freudian slip : )

glad things are going better. feel for you with the pump - i am at the point where mine *talks* to me. last week? it was saying "needs bananas, needs bananas" - yes it's driving me bats! : ) i anxiously watch the little flaps to see if i am going to pump enough for terzo...sigh...

3/01/2006 12:41:00 am  
Blogger Surfing Free said...

Hee hee babelbabe! My breastpump used to talk to me as well. I borrowed our neighbours electric one so it used to sort of moan in a low tone "watch the cat, watch the cat" .. and we don't have a cat. Eeck, the sleepy mind is a scarey thing.
Kim, I'm glad to hear things are settling down - it must be lovely to have your little mate with you on the bus :)

3/01/2006 08:06:00 am  
Blogger Suse said...

My breast pump used to say 'you're not pumping enough, you stupid pathetic breastfeeding failure'.

(Can you tell I'm bitter about the failure to breastfeed Son #2? I breastfed #3 for three and a half years to make up for it.)

And WHY DO SMALL BOYS HAVE TO WEE ALL OVER THE FLOOR? And while we're on the subject of husband-bashing (see BabelBabe's blog right now), how come I am the only one who ever notices the puddles of urine all over the toilet floor? Hmmm?

(too depressed to yadza, sorry)

3/02/2006 12:09:00 pm  

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