Bits and bobs

What can I tell you:

Three boys went back to school on Monday.

The oldest followed on Tuesday.

I remembered quickly how much I hate packing lunches.

If I make mini pizzas for the boys to take to school do you make them up, cook them and then freeze them? Or make them up, freeze them then cook them the night before/morning of?

I have two children who don’t like eating sandwiches. WTF?

I’ve exercised every day this week.

I have a goal to be fit and fabulous for my 40th.

I’m still dreaming & scheming to get to NYC to celebrate turning 40.

I’m focusing on that as I see other friends announcing their plans & sponsorships to go to BlogHer in NYC in August.

I’ve been really taken aback by my excitement and exhilaration at Felix starting high school.

To the point I’m now starting to annoy myself. Calm the fuck down already.

Something’s happened to my libido. I’m not sure if it’s the standard ovulation-induced dramatic rise in desire or something longer lasting. Let’s not dwell on it for fear we jinx it for Chef.

I am thinking that the alarming level with which I ogle stare gawk look at the boys next door with their abs and trails down into their board shorts and general YOUTH may be playing a part.

Just a maybe mind you.

It occurred to me that while I am *only* 15 years older than them they put me into a category with their parents.

This is spectacularly depressing.

Our boys now basically reside next door. I’m resolving feeling bad about this by baking stuff for the menboys. Or making extra spaghetti bolognese to take in to them. It’s an illness.

It’s raining. Again.

Have I mentioned how much I adore the rain?

There was a chance Chef was going to Bali for a work project. It didn’t eventuate but it was fun getting all ‘oh em gee you’ll need a passport! How exciting!’.

Jasper finds out his classroom teacher today. I’m suspecting it’ll be the one I defined as ‘creepy’ last year. Because clearly, that’s how things roll around here.





The only thing saving me from humidity-induced insanity

Three flavours:
Coconut Pineapple
Coconut Mango
Coconut Guava


Shake the box really well (there’s 10 perfectly sized packets in the box)
Tip the blocks into your freezer
They can take up to 15 hours to harden totally. But if you have them earlier, and they’re kinda slushie. Even better.

Seriously. Almost as effective as my Pristiq, fish oil, evening primrose, vitamin B regime for mental health goodness.

So not a sponsored post. But should be. Also – happily paid in lifetime supply of Smoozes. Any flavour but Felix loves the Coconut Mango and Jasper loves the Coconut Guava but that could simply be because the packet it pink.

I want the Coconut Pineapple to have those husky bits of pineapple in it, but that’s just me. I’m the one person in the universe who simply does not understand why you would want orange juice without the bits in it.


So I stood up for myself on Tuesday morning rather than trying to be considerate/patient/the good one/etc. It was liberating and I felt a little of myself return.

Wednesday I had my midwife appt and gestational diabetes check. Despite the sugar intake of late, I don’t have it. Few. My midwife (who has been one of my midwives on all three pregnancies and on this one, with the hospital redesigning its midwife team program, she is it, my midwife. Very lovely conclusion to my breeding let me tell you) listened to all the incidents and stresses of the past seven weeks or so. She read me the quietly quietly riot act – about my health and my stress and about looking after me.

It appears I’ve burst my eardrum. The GP visit is this Wednesday morning.
She raised issues about my – ah – mental health. I got an appt with my psychiatrist the following day due to someone cancelling. He has put me back on happy pills. The ill-ease this makes me feel (about impact on baby etc.) is massive, but as he said, any side-effect on the baby is negligent compared to the side-effects on the baby from me being this stressed (and depressed) over such a sustained period of time.
She raised concerns over me living with my cracked tooth (a third of which ahs fallen out so it’s kinda annoying) and the risk of it getting infected. I am yet to make the dentist appt. This is purely psychological.
She said I should engage in some alternative therapies. I’m going for acuptuncture on Tuesday week (this is an ultimate indulgence for me). This should help w/ my carpal tunnel, my sinuses, my stress levels, my depression and every thing else…

Thursday I (finally) saw my shrink (who I was meant to see in late Jan/early Feb, but he was relocating and when I rang (twice) to make an appt they were still not set up. And suddenly it was April. After dumping on him all that has been going on with work, Oscar’s support service and Chef over the last four months, the conversation went something like this:
DrJ: How’s your sleep?
K: Broken and restless
DrJ: Waking early?
K: every morning at either 3.38, 4.18 or 4.47
Dr J: And your mood?
K: Highly variable, some days I’m fine, firing on all cylinders and then next I am desolate or angry and then I’m all of those in any given hour
DrJ: Teary?
K: Always.
DrJ: Your appetite?
K: just craving sugar in any form. Fruit juice and soft drinks are featuring quite markedly
… and the prescription pad comes out.

We’re half way through our Easter long weekend – the first one off for Chef in about a decade as the new place he works doesn’t open on public holidays. Ever. The working four weeknights is almost worth it. Yesterday we went down south and saw my Dad and stepmother.
Today we were going to the Royal Easter Show, but it was pissing down rain and quite frankly, I’m 29 weeks pregnant and sleep is a really lovely thing to be embraced as often during daylight hours as possible.
Chef has engaged in some DIY.
Needless to say the floor is covered in wood shavings and I have a new desk.
On the wall back-to-front and with holes in it.
The harware shop is closed tomorrow.
Public holidays off.

Tomorrow we will either go to the show or do a day trip to the Blue Mountains.
Ain’t a long weekend grand.