Oscar = never.stops.talking. but it’s not proper talking and it’s all asking the same thing over and over again about what is currently making him anxious or whoever’s business he’s sticking his nose in to.
Felix = never.stops.the.whiney.voice and is just so melodramatic and picks fights with Oscar so very often I’ve taken to calling him Drama.
Last night I tried to force feed Jasper, such was my irrational concern about his current diet of air and cruskits.
As if I’d never learnt that doing such a thing doesn’t end well.
As if I had not told myself to not worry about his diet and to just keep offering and maybe by 2020 eventually he will start eating it, just as Felix did but this time we’ll do it without the tears and mealtime meltdowns.
Then this morning, he woke up crying with a tummy ache, which i put down to the fact he hadn’t eaten since about 3 the previous afternoon.
He willingly ate (and had asked for) his breakfast of 3 weetbix, milk and honey. His only proper meal of the day.
Then spewed everywhere.
Excellent, I gave my child an eating disorder.
By midday the spewing had stopped and his tummy was all better.
But because of the spewing I wouldn’t let him eat or drink (except for small sips of water) much.
OH THE IRONY.
By 4pm he was completely back to normal.
For dinner I made a hot chicken curry (for Chef and Felix), a mild veggie curry (for me and Oscar), pan-fried chicken tenderloins (for whoever wanted them but hopefully for Jasper) and rice.
And Jasper ate? Plain.boiled.rice.
‘It’s my favowit’ my arse.
I actually sent my CV to someone today to hopefully be considered for some freelance work.
Such is our poverty.
Hence my filthy mood.
Which is probably just stress and worry in disguise.
Mum and I have been daydreaming about repainting/decorating.
A post on that to come.
On Monday I had my first day with no children in almost two months.
Except our internet connection has been dodgy for the last three weeks and another service guy was coming out between 7 and 12.
My SIL came down and picked up Grover for me, as I couldn’t take him up to my MIL’s.
How nice is that?
Only to be completely diluted by the fact the engineer wasn’t here by 1 and when I rang they informed me the problem had been fixed on Friday, that the problem on the weekend had been another district wide problem and that the job lot had been closed.
Wasn’t it nice of them to let me know.
After the previous week I’d had a customer service guy calling me so often it was bordering on stalking.
So I had one hour to go and do something before I had to pick up the boys from school.
So I went to Kmart and bought some undies.
It was Chef’s b’day last week.
He was 38.
I didn’t get him anything, well, I gave him something but this isn’t that kind of blog.
I still feel bad about it.
I caught up with one of the mums I’ve known since Oscar started school (her son was in the same special ed program) and her life has been such a shitstorm (think starting a house reno involving the entire back of the house being demolished only to have your husband retrenched and then getting screwed by the bank when they remortgaged their house and her car breaking down at least once every day on the school drop-off) we’ve decided us and another mum (who’s son was also in the same program and has t.w.o. autistic sons) are going to go out one Saturday night and get completely off our collective trolley.
That wasn’t so much a bullet point as a paragraph.
The sourdough making experience is still quite unsatisfactory.
Another contributor to my filthy mood I suspect.
I did however make the most sublime apple and rhubarb pie this week.
Which made the world a whole lot better.
But I know the world is awesome – a walk home with the little fellas afte dropping the boys at school and stopping off for a play in the park and then on the beach makes that perfectly obvious.
I really want to make some cumquat marmalade but refuse to pay in the vicinity of $9 a kilo for the fruit. I used to have two trees that produced enough for a decent batch, but one died and the other doesn’t get enough sun to fruit.
OMG I’m just such a developed world whinger at the moment.
Nothing more to see here.
Oh, except that our little veggie patch has taken off.
The broad beans are reaching for the sky!
The chives are blowing in the breeze.
The basil is getting a good pruning almost every day.
The oregano is liking it’s little spot on the corner despite getting routinely run-over by boys on bikes.
The parsley is a delightful grouping of stalks thanks to the possums.
The thyme is no more thanks to the bandicoots.
The passionfruit has some new little shoots on it, after the possums stripped it of every single leaf.
And how are we keeping them (the possums) off the passionfruit and parsley?
By giving them their own platter of fruit and veg each night.
And by hanging stockings full of napthalene all over the passionfruit vine trelis.
So now, the backyard smells like an old lady’s jumper.