This morning we said goodbye to kitty. Henry, Maya and I packed up our things and left the house after kissing him one last time and pulling the away the burs from his fur that he had no energy to remove himself. It was Ben who stayed behind to pack that kitty into a box and transport him to the vet who would inject him with magic sleep serum and send him to a nice safe place that doesn't know the meaning of the word pain.
Death, intended or not leaves an empty feeling behind it. One minute there's a breathing, living being with personality and feelings and the next minute it's simply a shell. That kitty had a pretty luxury filled twelve years before some mysterious kitty illness left him devoid of energy and spark. He spent his first four or five years being dressed up and carted around in a dolls pram by Maya. He did it with dignity and pride. He never once lashed out at her when he felt she'd pushed the boundaries of their friendship too far. He simply got up and walked away bonnet and all and found a hiding place to recover. Just when he thought he'd be able to live out his retirement years in relative peace along came Henry. That big bushy tail was an attraction to that small crawling creature and it was often grabbed and pulled with the type of yank only a baby can manage. Still that kitty didn't lash out. He just sighed and lay down until boredom lured Henry away to something else.
When I returned home this afternoon there was no kitty to nudge my leg until I fed him, no kitty to slump down at our feet as we watched TV and no kitty to swear at for leaving furballs all over my black pants.
We already miss that kitty and it's going to be weird to wake up tomorrow and not see him sitting at the door waiting to be let in for breakfast.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
All I want to do is shop
Henry came home from Charlotte's birthday party with a handmade Dora backpack which he now uses as his shopping bag. Up until then he was using one of my old handbags. He'd take it into the pantry and fill it with assorted things and get his wallet (filled with play money) head over to his play cash register and we'd have to "shop".
He still does this each and everyday and usually only minutes after he wakes up in the morning. He now gets the purple Dora backpack and fills it with assorted things from the pantry and tells me, while I'm still half asleep and trying to finish my cup of tea, that we need to shop right be because we've run out of milk.
He's very particular about the process that must be followed. He must fill the backpack, take it to the cash register and stack it in a particular fashion (if I mess with the stacking I get an earful)and then I must ring it up and say exactly how much each item is. If I neglect to say the amount he quickly tells me that I forgot to say it was twenty cents.
I am not allowed to put the shopping back in the pantry while he is still awake. It must stay in his bag or stacked up beside the cash register. His wallet must remain at all times in his bag and his "credit cards" must remain at all times in the cash register drawer.
After we've finished shopping we must always read a book about trucks because that's how all shopping trips the world over come to an end.
He still does this each and everyday and usually only minutes after he wakes up in the morning. He now gets the purple Dora backpack and fills it with assorted things from the pantry and tells me, while I'm still half asleep and trying to finish my cup of tea, that we need to shop right be because we've run out of milk.
He's very particular about the process that must be followed. He must fill the backpack, take it to the cash register and stack it in a particular fashion (if I mess with the stacking I get an earful)and then I must ring it up and say exactly how much each item is. If I neglect to say the amount he quickly tells me that I forgot to say it was twenty cents.
I am not allowed to put the shopping back in the pantry while he is still awake. It must stay in his bag or stacked up beside the cash register. His wallet must remain at all times in his bag and his "credit cards" must remain at all times in the cash register drawer.
After we've finished shopping we must always read a book about trucks because that's how all shopping trips the world over come to an end.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I need my belt
Believe it or not this is box is a car. Made for Henry by Sissy. She put straps on it so that Henry can step into it and pull the straps over his shoulders, get a paper plate to use as a steering wheel, pack his things into it and drive.
You've all heard of his obsession with Fireman Sam. Since he realised that Fireman Sam wears a black belt on his fireman uniform Henry has insisted that he also have one. He puts on his belt and gets into his car or runs outside to zoom around, pushing his trolley which doubles as a Fire truck and puts out fires. He can do this for hours.
He's also taken to telling me that he can't do things I ask him to because "I'm a bit busy right now". Obviously he's heard me say that during the five minutes per day that I don't spend with him because I'm busy going to the toilet.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Party! Party!
Yesterday Henry attended Charli's second birthday party. He'd been excited about it for days and thought that he may also be lucky enough to receive a whole pile of presents just for attending (and he did).
Carla did a fantastic job. Firstly she was brave enough even to have a party for a two year old. Then she set about organising a Dora The Explorer themed party. She had handmade Dora backpacks filled with an assortment of things, one of which was a map for the kids to follow to get to the Dora Pinata outside. There was a river to cross and a quicksand cave to make it through before they could pull Dora's pinata strings to release a torrent of lollies and whistles. It was so cute to watch the faces of all those two year olds as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.
Henry thoroughly enjoyed himself and came home exhausted. Thank you Carla and Charli for a wonderful day. Don't expect us to be having a party any time soon though. Henry's got to be old enough to organise it himself and pay for it before he'll be allowed to party hard at home.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Water Shortage
Like everyone else, I'm wishing it would rain. I wish it would rain for days and days. The grass, trees and shrubs look like they'd go up in flames and then wipe out the whole city with one massive fire if anyone lit a match or threw a cigarette aside.
I'm trying hard to use as little water as possible and recycle what I can. We have a timer in the bathroom to ensure everyone sticks to the four minute shower rule. I keep Henry's bath water and throw it on the plants (by the way there's something in Johnsons baby bath that the plants love), I fill a bucket with water from the washing machine and throw that on the garden too but it barely seems to make a difference. Everything is just so dry and brittle. It's like the world is tired.
Before Maya was born her Dad and I bought a 126 acre property a little way north of Brisbane but thirty kilometres from the nearest town. On that property was an A-Frame house. A tiny wee house big enough to swing a cat but not much else. In that house had lived a widow and her four strapping sons. They had lived there for many years without any form of running water and no dam and no water storage devices of any kind. When we went to inspect the property we noted that they had about 50 four litre orange juice bottles filled with water lined up on the kitchen floor. Apparently when they went to town to do their fortnightly shop they took the bottles and filled them with town water from the local park. They didn't shower because there was no bathroom to speak of and no running water in the house. I didn't bother to ask them how they kept themselves clean because I really didn't want to know. The Matriarch did all the clothes washing by hand in a bucket and then put the water out for the ten mangy dogs to drink after she'd finished with it.
There were old car bodies strewn about the place and a shed literally filled with nesting rats. The place was a mess, but it was cheap and it had the most magical view over the valley.
The first thing we did when we moved in was to organise an excavator to dig a massive dam in a low where the creeks all met. Then we waited for it to rain. In the mean time we bought an aluminium water tank and paid to have it filled with water and then gravity fed it to the house. This meant we were able to at least wash dishes and clothes and clean our teeth. With no shower or bathroom facilities yet installed we showered outside with a camp shower strung up beneath the frangipanni tree. They were possibly some of the best showers I have ever had. A view of the moutains in front, lush tropical bush behind and no visible neighbours.
Maya was born in that house, well not born there but born into it. She was a delightful bush baby. Every day we took her for bush walks strapped in the backpack on our backs. She'd fall asleep to the sound of the Butcher Bird who followed us around on our walks. She was also born into a home where effort was required just to fill a bathtub with water. For some time after we finally purchased a bath tub we just sat it outside on the front deck overlooking the mountain and plugged it up and filled it with water from a bucket and lay in there taking a bath under the stars. She loved it. We left there when she was not quite two so she does not remember it. I remember well though the difficulties of getting and keeping water. When we moved back to the city it was such a novelty to be able to turn on a tap and just let it run. Each and every time I did though I felt guilty. I felt wasteful. It was such a precious commodity once for some time and it seemed ridiculous to me that my neighbours in the city felt no shame in running their sprinklers all night while they slept.
We should have seen the drought coming many years ago and been prepared for it. Once upon a time every home had a tank and then they were told to remove them because of the health hazard they may cause. Now the councils are paying people to install them once again.
Maybe they should insist everyone gets themselves 50 four litre orange juice bottles.
I'm trying hard to use as little water as possible and recycle what I can. We have a timer in the bathroom to ensure everyone sticks to the four minute shower rule. I keep Henry's bath water and throw it on the plants (by the way there's something in Johnsons baby bath that the plants love), I fill a bucket with water from the washing machine and throw that on the garden too but it barely seems to make a difference. Everything is just so dry and brittle. It's like the world is tired.
Before Maya was born her Dad and I bought a 126 acre property a little way north of Brisbane but thirty kilometres from the nearest town. On that property was an A-Frame house. A tiny wee house big enough to swing a cat but not much else. In that house had lived a widow and her four strapping sons. They had lived there for many years without any form of running water and no dam and no water storage devices of any kind. When we went to inspect the property we noted that they had about 50 four litre orange juice bottles filled with water lined up on the kitchen floor. Apparently when they went to town to do their fortnightly shop they took the bottles and filled them with town water from the local park. They didn't shower because there was no bathroom to speak of and no running water in the house. I didn't bother to ask them how they kept themselves clean because I really didn't want to know. The Matriarch did all the clothes washing by hand in a bucket and then put the water out for the ten mangy dogs to drink after she'd finished with it.
There were old car bodies strewn about the place and a shed literally filled with nesting rats. The place was a mess, but it was cheap and it had the most magical view over the valley.
The first thing we did when we moved in was to organise an excavator to dig a massive dam in a low where the creeks all met. Then we waited for it to rain. In the mean time we bought an aluminium water tank and paid to have it filled with water and then gravity fed it to the house. This meant we were able to at least wash dishes and clothes and clean our teeth. With no shower or bathroom facilities yet installed we showered outside with a camp shower strung up beneath the frangipanni tree. They were possibly some of the best showers I have ever had. A view of the moutains in front, lush tropical bush behind and no visible neighbours.
Maya was born in that house, well not born there but born into it. She was a delightful bush baby. Every day we took her for bush walks strapped in the backpack on our backs. She'd fall asleep to the sound of the Butcher Bird who followed us around on our walks. She was also born into a home where effort was required just to fill a bathtub with water. For some time after we finally purchased a bath tub we just sat it outside on the front deck overlooking the mountain and plugged it up and filled it with water from a bucket and lay in there taking a bath under the stars. She loved it. We left there when she was not quite two so she does not remember it. I remember well though the difficulties of getting and keeping water. When we moved back to the city it was such a novelty to be able to turn on a tap and just let it run. Each and every time I did though I felt guilty. I felt wasteful. It was such a precious commodity once for some time and it seemed ridiculous to me that my neighbours in the city felt no shame in running their sprinklers all night while they slept.
We should have seen the drought coming many years ago and been prepared for it. Once upon a time every home had a tank and then they were told to remove them because of the health hazard they may cause. Now the councils are paying people to install them once again.
Maybe they should insist everyone gets themselves 50 four litre orange juice bottles.
Bloomin' Hang Nail
Henry has this thing about hangnails. He just can't bear to have one for longer than a few seconds. When he does he says "I got a hangnail. I need to get the clippers".
Tonight while he was bathing I decided to cut my toenails. When he saw me with the clippers he jumped out of the bath, came running over all sudsy and wet and said "Mum, have you got a bloomin' hang nail?". He inspected my toenails as if he were specially trained in detecting rogue hang nails and passed over each one until he got to the one I had not correctly cut. "Oh, I'll get it" he cried out and then just grabbed that thing and ripped it right off my toe and threw it in the bin.
Tonight while he was bathing I decided to cut my toenails. When he saw me with the clippers he jumped out of the bath, came running over all sudsy and wet and said "Mum, have you got a bloomin' hang nail?". He inspected my toenails as if he were specially trained in detecting rogue hang nails and passed over each one until he got to the one I had not correctly cut. "Oh, I'll get it" he cried out and then just grabbed that thing and ripped it right off my toe and threw it in the bin.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Finger Update
It turns out the doc thinks Maya's fingers weren't broken but just a little sprained. Because he understands the importance a bandage plays in extracting endless amounts of sympathy he wrapped it up good so it looks like it could be really very serious. It's on her left hand so unfortunately she has no excuse for not doing her schoolwork and that upset her more than the pain, oh the pain.
In other news; we've invested in a VOIP phone which for a small monthly fee gives us endless amounts of local and national calls free. Well of course they're not free because we pay a small monthly fee but imagine making all those harassing phone calls I wanted to make but didn't because I thought they'd cost me money.
In other news; we've invested in a VOIP phone which for a small monthly fee gives us endless amounts of local and national calls free. Well of course they're not free because we pay a small monthly fee but imagine making all those harassing phone calls I wanted to make but didn't because I thought they'd cost me money.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
There's always something to break the peace
And it usually comes in the form of a phone call from a teenager who knows you're at home for the day instead of at work.
Somehow she miraculously manages to break a bone/come down with the worst bout of stomach bug ever/ bang her head/ whatever it may be that would require a phone call to me to make sure I'm not enjoying my time alone at home and that I have to leave the house like right now.
I had the day off today. Not because I wanted to but because there was just nothing to do at work. While I sighed heavily about the loss of a days pay I was secretly pleased because it meant I could have some alone time. Henry would be at daycare, Ben would be at work and Maya would be at school.
I walked my adorable children to their respective drop off zones this morning and walked home feeling somewhat excited about ALL THAT TIME ALONE! Because I was also feeling a little domesticated I came home and cleaned...for a bit anyway.I also shopped for food despite promising that I never would again. I wouldn't go as far as to say it was a pleasurable experience but it was at least without panic. I was able to get in there, fill the trolley and get out in under twenty minutes. I didn't have a toddler to save from the traffic in the carpark or to stop filling the trolley with novelty truck shaped biscuit tins. There was no teenager asking me to buy mascara's and 45 different varieties of chocolate drinks and expensive hair shampoos. I got it home and packed without the toddler and the teenager opening everything before I'd even had a chance to get it out of the car. Sounds like heaven doesn't it.
I washed several piles of dirty clothes, vacuumed the floors and the car and prepared dinner. It's amazing how easy those simple things are when there's no one else to distract you. I even drank a whole hot cup of tea, ate several pieces of chocolate and talked the council guys into feeding some of our tree trimmings into their mulching machine. I think they were disappointed I didn't have more. I almost told them to go right ahead and just cut down all the overgrown trees in our yard and mulch them to a bloody pulp.
I looked up at the clock just after 1PM and knew the countdown had begun. There were only two short hours of peace left in which I could start to read the hundreds of gossip magazines that were left on my back porch by my elderly neighbour over a week ago.
Just as I flipped to the page that would tell me all about how to avoid developing an eating disorder but still be as thin as Lindsay Lohan the phone rang.
"Mum, it's me, I broke my fingers, can you come and get me or should I get the bus?"
"Get the bus, nothing you can do for a broken finger anyway. I'm about to kick start my new diet which includes lots of rest and perhaps some illegal drugs so if you don't mind I'll see you when you get home"
"Ok, well I'll just hobble home, drag my really heavy bag behind me. The girls at school say you can die from a broken finger. They read about a girl in a magazine who once broke her finger and died three days later".
"Really? Her mum must be really mean. Maybe she didn't take her to the hospital in time. Maybe she didn't even bother picking her up from school and made her catch the bus home".
We didn't really have that exact conversation and I may be the meanest mother on the planet but since she was laughing while talking to me and the last time she supposedly had a broken finger it turned out it was just a little bruised. She didn't complain too loudly about catching the bus and I promised to meet her at the bus stop with the car but I didn't want to cut into my OWN TIME because I had eating disorders to learn about.
Somehow she miraculously manages to break a bone/come down with the worst bout of stomach bug ever/ bang her head/ whatever it may be that would require a phone call to me to make sure I'm not enjoying my time alone at home and that I have to leave the house like right now.
I had the day off today. Not because I wanted to but because there was just nothing to do at work. While I sighed heavily about the loss of a days pay I was secretly pleased because it meant I could have some alone time. Henry would be at daycare, Ben would be at work and Maya would be at school.
I walked my adorable children to their respective drop off zones this morning and walked home feeling somewhat excited about ALL THAT TIME ALONE! Because I was also feeling a little domesticated I came home and cleaned...for a bit anyway.I also shopped for food despite promising that I never would again. I wouldn't go as far as to say it was a pleasurable experience but it was at least without panic. I was able to get in there, fill the trolley and get out in under twenty minutes. I didn't have a toddler to save from the traffic in the carpark or to stop filling the trolley with novelty truck shaped biscuit tins. There was no teenager asking me to buy mascara's and 45 different varieties of chocolate drinks and expensive hair shampoos. I got it home and packed without the toddler and the teenager opening everything before I'd even had a chance to get it out of the car. Sounds like heaven doesn't it.
I washed several piles of dirty clothes, vacuumed the floors and the car and prepared dinner. It's amazing how easy those simple things are when there's no one else to distract you. I even drank a whole hot cup of tea, ate several pieces of chocolate and talked the council guys into feeding some of our tree trimmings into their mulching machine. I think they were disappointed I didn't have more. I almost told them to go right ahead and just cut down all the overgrown trees in our yard and mulch them to a bloody pulp.
I looked up at the clock just after 1PM and knew the countdown had begun. There were only two short hours of peace left in which I could start to read the hundreds of gossip magazines that were left on my back porch by my elderly neighbour over a week ago.
Just as I flipped to the page that would tell me all about how to avoid developing an eating disorder but still be as thin as Lindsay Lohan the phone rang.
"Mum, it's me, I broke my fingers, can you come and get me or should I get the bus?"
"Get the bus, nothing you can do for a broken finger anyway. I'm about to kick start my new diet which includes lots of rest and perhaps some illegal drugs so if you don't mind I'll see you when you get home"
"Ok, well I'll just hobble home, drag my really heavy bag behind me. The girls at school say you can die from a broken finger. They read about a girl in a magazine who once broke her finger and died three days later".
"Really? Her mum must be really mean. Maybe she didn't take her to the hospital in time. Maybe she didn't even bother picking her up from school and made her catch the bus home".
We didn't really have that exact conversation and I may be the meanest mother on the planet but since she was laughing while talking to me and the last time she supposedly had a broken finger it turned out it was just a little bruised. She didn't complain too loudly about catching the bus and I promised to meet her at the bus stop with the car but I didn't want to cut into my OWN TIME because I had eating disorders to learn about.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Worst Shopping Trip EVER
I just got back from the shopping centre. My all time least favourite place. I had to go because I needed to purchase something special. Something I hope the receiver will enjoy. I kind of knew what I wanted so I headed out early in the hope that I would miss all the other shoppers who also had to buy something special.
I took Henry with me as his Dad had to go to service the computer of someone who may be an online gambler. Of that I can't be sure. But what it meant was that Henry could not stay home. I had to do the thing I hate most with a child in tow.
Henry had already been to the toilet earlier in the morning and I thought there would be little chance he'd have to go again before I got home. I wasn't planning on being there forever so I left home without any spare underpants or wipes or any of the usual emergency supplies I take along.
While I was in the store, a rather crowded specialist store, Henry very loudly declared that he had a poo in his pants. "Mum, I've got a poo in my undies!". I looked up completely embarrassed to see him waddling over to me, hunched over in the hope that the poo wouldn't stick and might somehow miraculously disappear.
All faces were on me, and my son. Everyone had literally stopped what they were doing and had turned to me to gauge how I might react to this bit of news. I wanted to tell them all that it was just a bit of poo, there was nothing to see, they could all get back to what they were doing because the poo, well it was nicely tucked into his elasticated undies and was not about to fall out at their feet and germ the place up.
Since I'd already found what I wanted I decided that I was just going to pay for it and make Henry wait because after I'd gone to the bathroom to clean him up I was hotfooting it out of that centre. He stood there beside me at the checkout all hunched over with a stench strong enough to kill an already dead rabbit. He calmly waited until I was ready and then we walked slowly to the bathrooms. I'll spare you the cleaning up details but let's just say I was extremely thankful that the bathrooms were free at that moment.
I've learned my lesson. I will never go shopping again. Ever. Not even when I've run out of food.
I took Henry with me as his Dad had to go to service the computer of someone who may be an online gambler. Of that I can't be sure. But what it meant was that Henry could not stay home. I had to do the thing I hate most with a child in tow.
Henry had already been to the toilet earlier in the morning and I thought there would be little chance he'd have to go again before I got home. I wasn't planning on being there forever so I left home without any spare underpants or wipes or any of the usual emergency supplies I take along.
While I was in the store, a rather crowded specialist store, Henry very loudly declared that he had a poo in his pants. "Mum, I've got a poo in my undies!". I looked up completely embarrassed to see him waddling over to me, hunched over in the hope that the poo wouldn't stick and might somehow miraculously disappear.
All faces were on me, and my son. Everyone had literally stopped what they were doing and had turned to me to gauge how I might react to this bit of news. I wanted to tell them all that it was just a bit of poo, there was nothing to see, they could all get back to what they were doing because the poo, well it was nicely tucked into his elasticated undies and was not about to fall out at their feet and germ the place up.
Since I'd already found what I wanted I decided that I was just going to pay for it and make Henry wait because after I'd gone to the bathroom to clean him up I was hotfooting it out of that centre. He stood there beside me at the checkout all hunched over with a stench strong enough to kill an already dead rabbit. He calmly waited until I was ready and then we walked slowly to the bathrooms. I'll spare you the cleaning up details but let's just say I was extremely thankful that the bathrooms were free at that moment.
I've learned my lesson. I will never go shopping again. Ever. Not even when I've run out of food.
Friday, April 06, 2007
What's so good about Good Friday?
Well for a start I managed to make my mother happy by going to family day at church with her even though I was tired because I'd been up half the night throwing stones at the possums who must have been fighting off male suitors through the night on the roof right above our bedroom. Of course there was lots of talk at church about how one cannot be complete without Jesus but he was obviously feeling generous because I left with a free bag of Brumby's chocolate hot cross buns.
My mother also has a new car, a very fancy electronic seat type new car. I got to drive it home from church because, well I guess Jesus was feeling very, very generous. Henry hadn't yet seen the car but had heard about and given his obsession with all things with wheels he insisted on being taken for a drive back to Nana's house in it after she dropped me home. He got strapped into the luxurious leather seats and was whisked off with Nana and Richie and treated royally at their home for a couple of hours while Ben and I whipped around the floors with the vacuum cleaner. I know, I know, I can hear the jealousy in your voices. I am sooooo lucky!
Later I dropped Maya and her friends to the movies and after collecting Henry on the way home and borrowing my mother's long handled tree trimmers we chopped back some overgrown bushes. Now we have an enormous pile of tree branches that we are considering dumping in the jungle of the empty home next door. I'm sure they wouldn't notice what with the pile of uncollected mail and the family of mountain lions that have moved in.
Henry, who hadn't slept all day fell asleep on the couch at 5PM, Maya left with a friend for a sleepover and Ben went off to parts unknown to service the computer of an online gambler. That was my cue to crack open a bottle of wine and start...well you know...drinking.
Henry is all excited about the impending Easter Bunny visit but fortunately he does not yet understand the whole concept of marketing and the need to improve profit margins by placing Easter eggs in the supermarkets immediately after Christmas,so the Easter Bunny has left me with only one chocolate bunny and two small eggs to leave in his Easter nest.
Happy Easter everyone.
My mother also has a new car, a very fancy electronic seat type new car. I got to drive it home from church because, well I guess Jesus was feeling very, very generous. Henry hadn't yet seen the car but had heard about and given his obsession with all things with wheels he insisted on being taken for a drive back to Nana's house in it after she dropped me home. He got strapped into the luxurious leather seats and was whisked off with Nana and Richie and treated royally at their home for a couple of hours while Ben and I whipped around the floors with the vacuum cleaner. I know, I know, I can hear the jealousy in your voices. I am sooooo lucky!
Later I dropped Maya and her friends to the movies and after collecting Henry on the way home and borrowing my mother's long handled tree trimmers we chopped back some overgrown bushes. Now we have an enormous pile of tree branches that we are considering dumping in the jungle of the empty home next door. I'm sure they wouldn't notice what with the pile of uncollected mail and the family of mountain lions that have moved in.
Henry, who hadn't slept all day fell asleep on the couch at 5PM, Maya left with a friend for a sleepover and Ben went off to parts unknown to service the computer of an online gambler. That was my cue to crack open a bottle of wine and start...well you know...drinking.
Henry is all excited about the impending Easter Bunny visit but fortunately he does not yet understand the whole concept of marketing and the need to improve profit margins by placing Easter eggs in the supermarkets immediately after Christmas,so the Easter Bunny has left me with only one chocolate bunny and two small eggs to leave in his Easter nest.
Happy Easter everyone.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Ms Manager manages to avoid pool ghoul conversation
So I go to the pool today to take Henry to swimming lessons and I run into Ms Manager as I check in. A little small talk ensured about the weather and what day Henry is booked in next term and blah blah blah. I'm so thinking in my head about what to say about this .
She checks my card and notes that we haven't been for a couple of weeks.
"No". I say. "Last week I had some skin infection..."
She cuts me off mid sentence ..."Oh, that's no good is it love"
"No" I say. "It's not. I..."
"Well, we'll see you next term" and I'm dismissed.
That's it, end of conversation. No time to talk about oozing infections and how they may have been contracted.
Henry and I head for the pool. We get in, ready to start the lesson which always follows the same routine and starts with Crocodile, Crodile on the wall. Just as Henry is about to spectacularly dive towards me with his arms outstretched I glance over to see the legs of a small child, not much bigger than Henry. I notice that his legs are covered in some kind of pool ghoulish rash that looked strangely similar to mine. I have to look away though in order to save my son, who had almost made it to the bottom of the pool because I wasn't looking, from drowning. When I look back the kid is gone. I want to jump out of the pool and track down the mother and tell her that her child is possibly spreading some kind of horrible bacterial germ, infecting other poor innocent children...and their parents.
I then realise that perhaps that child got it at the pool too, maybe the mother doesn't realise that's where it might have come from and hasn't realised that by continuing to bring him there while he's covered in it will just spread it. I want to track her down and scream at the top of my voice that he be quarantined.
I was over it by the time we got to the tunnel game in which I am supposed to force my disinterested 2 year old to chase a ball through a tunnel fashioned from a yoga mat. Throughout the entire lesson today Henry chose to act like a bored teenager. He refused to even consider doing the things that were asked of him and instead decided that he was going to do the opposite of whatever the teacher said. He breathed a heady sigh of relief when the final "grand old Duke of York" horse rides on the noodle signalled the end of the half hour.
The day only got better from there. Well between the hours of 11AM and 3Pm at least. We went to visit Carla and Charli and McKenzie where we ate lashings of home made cheesecake (thanks Carla - it was absolutely scrumptious) and ran around the house scarring each other to within an inch of our lives.
She checks my card and notes that we haven't been for a couple of weeks.
"No". I say. "Last week I had some skin infection..."
She cuts me off mid sentence ..."Oh, that's no good is it love"
"No" I say. "It's not. I..."
"Well, we'll see you next term" and I'm dismissed.
That's it, end of conversation. No time to talk about oozing infections and how they may have been contracted.
Henry and I head for the pool. We get in, ready to start the lesson which always follows the same routine and starts with Crocodile, Crodile on the wall. Just as Henry is about to spectacularly dive towards me with his arms outstretched I glance over to see the legs of a small child, not much bigger than Henry. I notice that his legs are covered in some kind of pool ghoulish rash that looked strangely similar to mine. I have to look away though in order to save my son, who had almost made it to the bottom of the pool because I wasn't looking, from drowning. When I look back the kid is gone. I want to jump out of the pool and track down the mother and tell her that her child is possibly spreading some kind of horrible bacterial germ, infecting other poor innocent children...and their parents.
I then realise that perhaps that child got it at the pool too, maybe the mother doesn't realise that's where it might have come from and hasn't realised that by continuing to bring him there while he's covered in it will just spread it. I want to track her down and scream at the top of my voice that he be quarantined.
I was over it by the time we got to the tunnel game in which I am supposed to force my disinterested 2 year old to chase a ball through a tunnel fashioned from a yoga mat. Throughout the entire lesson today Henry chose to act like a bored teenager. He refused to even consider doing the things that were asked of him and instead decided that he was going to do the opposite of whatever the teacher said. He breathed a heady sigh of relief when the final "grand old Duke of York" horse rides on the noodle signalled the end of the half hour.
The day only got better from there. Well between the hours of 11AM and 3Pm at least. We went to visit Carla and Charli and McKenzie where we ate lashings of home made cheesecake (thanks Carla - it was absolutely scrumptious) and ran around the house scarring each other to within an inch of our lives.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
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