So what can I tell you.
Not much really.
The sun rises. I’ve been awake for a few hours by then. The pit is still in the stomach.
The heart still races.
I’m still very tense and nervy and well, anxious.
But the night sweats have gone.
The nauseousness has ababted.
Grover has a new tooth.
Felix’s training band tied for second in a local eisteddfod.
Oscar broke his nose and we find out this week if it needs surgery.
Chef got a date today for surgery on the rotting leg – 27 May.
I’m just being a mum at the moment, taking boys on little walks down to the lake or the park or the shops.
No power walking.
Just ambling around the neighbourhood.
I’m normally in bed by 8.30. Sometimes 9. I’ve had two nights of going to bed at 10 and the difference in my anxiety the following day was remarkable.
I don’t even hear Grover wake for a midnight feed – Chef is normally still up and he deals with it.
It seems highly fortuitous that – just a couple of times a week – Grover has decided one night wake-up is OK during this time.
The house looks like a bomb site.
I really miss my in-laws.
They’re not back from France for another four weeks.
They have no idea that all of this has been going on.
Felix is eight on Saturday.
He’s asked for a cake in the shape of a heart because of how much he loves me.
I’m thinking maybe that’s enough making him watch musicals from the 50s with me.
And maybe no more figure skating.
Oscar seems to have gone mad and I’ve thought more than once that medication may be called for.
Felix is busy tormenting every single brother as much as possible and then being mortally wounded when called on it.
Jasper is being beyond adorable.
Grover is almost walking and ‘talks’ more than any of the other children ever did at this age.
He has whole screaming conversations with Jasper.
He has this weird little habit of carrying a sock around with him.
He prefers ones that have been worn.
He will go to the laundry to get one.
I’m serious.
Then he just carries them around with him as he does his little laps of the house ‘daddaddadding’ all the way.

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  • ThirdCat

    hang in there, kim


  • h&b

    I’m so glad you clocked in, I was a little concerned about your blog-absense, seeing you normally type four to my one.

    Yay to Chef looking after that midnight shift. Just don’t let him get any rotting leg on the baybee…

  • kurrabikid

    Each step forward, no matter how small, is a step closer to feeling like you again.

  • Muzbot

    I’m with H&B on the clocking in. Tried to call today and sent you a txt to say “hi”. Would love to catch up for a lunch sometime soon. I have news… 🙂

  • paola

    Happy to hear from you.
    Slowly but surely.

  • Eleanor

    I missed you.

  • jac

    You had me with the sock. I am besotted.

  • Janet

    yep, glad to hear from you Kim. Gentle walks and sleeping sound like just the thing.

  • blackbird

    okay, well, then…at least it IS going on.

    I think of you every day.

  • Suse

    We ALL think about you every day. Hang in there as 3C said.

    And what’s that ‘from whence you came’ bit over there on the right? What’s with the numbers next to our names? Please to explain?

    ps. is Muzbot pregnant?

  • Major Bedhead

    An hour at a time. Whatever works.

  • barbra

    baby steps. you’re moving forward. that sock thing is cute!

  • Zoe

    The sock is cool. My friend’s daughter has the same thing, but she prefers knickers. Which she retrieves from the laundry basket.


  • Surfing Free

    Oh, Grover and the sock!! Adorable.
    Glad to hear life is more gentle at the moment. I hope it stays that way 🙂

  • Hilary

    It sounds like such a lovely life. If only you didn’t have all those crazy body chemicals, or whatever it is. It reminds me of a day, after 3 months of fibromyalgia and watching people striding along the street thinking I would never be able to do that, when I saw a man walking down to the river with his dog and thinking, ‘I could do that!’ Gentle pace, no further than I wanted. It was a gusty early spring day and I communed with a kookaburra by the river and cried about happy things. I’ll never forget that day when all cares were abandoned cos there was no point and I started to nurture myself back to health.

    I wish you much nurturing and abundant small happinesses.

  • Blossom

    When I have days like yours..I think of Dory……..just keep swimming…just keep swimming…..


  • crafty

    Just being a Mum, is something I say too, and annoys me, because it is anything but -just-.

    You know with everything that’s being going on at the moment, and no sleep, don’t underestimate the importance of that… I would think there was something wrong with you if you were sailing through….that post about anxiety you wrote a bit ago, where you said it (the anxiety) was for no reason, out of the blue, and then wrote that whole other bit in a different colour…mate, those are reasons. Perhaps not the whole picture, but reasons never the less. Oh yeah, and that day that Oscar broke his nose… that day would have broken me for at least a week probably two. You are amazing, really.

  • Duyvken

    It’s great to have you back. Baby steps, Kim, will get you where you need to go. You’ll be pissed off at how long it takes but you’ll get there in the end. Take care!

  • Stomper Girl

    Like Janet said, sleeping and gentle walks sound just right. Grover’s sock thing is very sweet I wonder when he’ll trade up for a train…