So I opened the mail yesterday.
Just the interesting ones.
As opposed to the bills and bank statements.
Which is kinda ironic.
That they arrive together.
I opened an envelope that came in yesterday’s mail as it was clearly not a bill or a bank statement.
It was a card from some friends we don’t see enough and when we try it always fails as one or a hundred of our combined eleventy gagillion children always has something highly contagiable. (Shut it. I know it’s not a word but say it, it’s fun!)
And I thought to myself ‘oh, that’s nice’ and ‘we should try once more to get together over this festive season’.
And then put the card in the pile of paper recycling.
Until it dawned on me how “wrong” that was and that I should be putting these on display or some such nonsense.
And then I realised that wasn’t the right attitude either.
Don’t get me wrong. I love getting cards. Muz gave me a hilarious one for my birthday (along with my very own Pantone mug in purple and this funky silicone oven mit in the shape of a mouse which appeals to my sense of humour no end. (and while we’re referring to presents, L and R gave me shiny mosaic tealight candle holders which are so pretty and tealight candles called ‘serenity’; L and D gave me this book on bread which is way awesome and now I understand the science of flour and lo it came to pass I was happy; and E and A gave me hair products. Delicious, not tested on animals, made in Australia by an Australian company and which smells delicious and today? Today I have shiny, smelly hair so enjoy it as me and shampoo are no longer that close.) but I just don’t get that attached to them.
Mum is so much happier at her private where-old-people-go-to-be-pampered hospital digs she moved to today, because apparently at the religious private hospital where she was ‘no one cares’.
Is it possible to develop carpal tunnel of the ankle? My left foot has never been the same since my labour for and delivery of Grover where I stood up for the whole dinner and show. I feel like there’s a bolt running through my ankle joint and it stiffens up completely (take that google!) if not moved fairly constantly and my whole foot gets pins and needles much of the time. That and the pain is now running up my leg. Weird.
Should probably get it checked by a doctor. Next.
Saw my shrink today, informed him I had changed my meds back to the one I was on before I had Grover, he was all shoulder shrugs and ‘they’re pretty safe and if it’s working, it’s working’. I kinda love the fact I have a shrink who is very not into the drama of it all. I also love that he tells me stuff about his fairly recent (and completely unexpected on his part) marital woes – including tales of his now ex-wife and some sado-masochistic eminent member of the law profession. Delicious. Anyway, I catalogued what I’d been dealing with/resolving over the last month:
– husband having the snip
– mother getting a new hip
– living with mother
– Felix – to repeat or not to repeat, that is the question I still have not answered with peace in my heart
– Oscar – to change his aide next year
– Jasper – embarking on toddlerhood in all its melodramatic tantruming not eating not sleeping goodness
– living with mother
No wonder I’m freakin’ mental.
Further to the ailments list, I seem to have done something to my left elbow (it just pains all the time) and my right shoulder (it aches often and sends shooting pains down my back and arm). I’m pretty sure this is because all I’ve been doing for the last 10 days is driving every-effing-where.
I also have a weird pain on the inside of the big toe on my left foot – and no it’s not an ingrown toenail because while I have dubious personal hygeine standards I’m not an ogre.
It’s quite painful and throbs fairly constantly.
Not that I want anyone to worry.
I don’t want any of those ‘hope your feeling better’ comments.
Just so you know.
It’s just, you know, when you have someone in your family who’s just had their balls snipped and someone else who’s had their bones hacked into, I’ve taken to keeping my mouth shut on the pretty obvious reality of just how clapped out this model of body I’m living in has become.
So I save it up for all you special people.
Yesterday I made some gingerbread men, christmas trees, angels and bells. I was going to get the boys to ice them as presents for their teachers, but did it in the rare moment I was home today. GOD what a chore. I adore cooking and baking. I love making dinners that are sensational. But pernickity time-eating activities like this:
(purple was compulsory as it’s Oscar’s favourite colour. He was suitably excited to see them.)
I’m not so good at.
Next batch I am so leaving to the boys.