Month: August 2013

Six

The G man was 6 last month. We still haven’t had a party. He is, after all, #4.

Some of you have been around these parts since before his arrival.

I could write all manner of things about him but at the moment I just want to remember this. Since he was born hated sleeping alone. Still does. But to fall sleep in my bed – or me in his – he had to have his feet resting on my thighs. As a baby this meant me curled up tight so his toes could reach and now, they have the slightest of bends.

I want to remember that.

My little man who tells me he’s lonely in his head or that his legs are bored when we’ve been walking for a long time or how earnest he is in all his endeavours and that his kindergarten teacher says he is a model classroom citizen – I just want to never forget how he loved having his feet rest on my thighs to go off to sleep.

 

Onward. 1061

Boombalardy

The weekly boombalardy update.

Still fat.
Still not exercising (although I did venture into a gym last week and had a swim – am not joining though, just going to try to get to the aquatic centre twice a week for a third of the price).
Still eating crap (although less than before).
Still over-eating the good stuff.

I’m feeling the ramifications hard with my Hashimoto’s really wreaking havoc these last few days. I have that bone-crushing tiredness and my joints are aching.

Then this morning Kathy posted a link to this story.

Just eat food. Eat real food, be active, and live your life.

I think I might just give that a try.

 

Onward.

New Favourite

The Daily Show’s take on the Australian 2013 election.

Boombalardy

The never-ending quest to lose weight.

I lost 300 measly grams last week. THREE HUNDRED. I was so pissed off by that I’ve solidly eaten for the last two days. Because that’ll show me won’t it. What an idiot.

I’m > < close to doing meal replacements. MISERY.

Punishment

We’re two weeks in to a rather substantial punishment for one of the boys. I guess I should protect the guilty so let’s just say his name rhymes with helix. No phone, no laptop, no xbox for a month. A month.

Granted, I meted out that teenage death sentence in the heat of the incident but I am still of the belief it is fair for the crime. Every now and then my cold dead heart melts a little and I consider shortening the sentence but then he asks for his laptop back and my steely resolve is shored up once more.

I know the length is appropriate because last week one of his wails on not getting his laptop back was “I didn’t even hit him that hard”. He’s lucky I didn’t add another week for that one.

The weekday evening moping is deliciously excruciating involving a lot of lolling about on the lounge or the floor wrapped up in a blanket personifying misery.

But here’s the kicker, it’s SO NICE having him back when I didn’t even realise he was gone. We hang out on the lounge, tonight has been a relentless campaign on who can get in a tickle before the other one flees or, in my case, wets their pants in hysterics. There’s discussions about politics, about what he’s learning in science at school, about STUFF.

There’s two long weeks to go and I’m quite sure this week will be as hellish as the last with moaning and wailing but there’s a perverse pleasure in that anyway.

Onward.