Oh yeah, I rock.

Oh my god!

I did it!

I sooooooo rock.

I can’t believe I didn’t miss a day.

Did I learn anything?

Maybe that blogging under pressure is hard. I’m actually pleased that it is over so that I can just post when I feel like it. That may well be every day but if I have nothing to say then I’m glad I won’t have to force it.

On the up side, having to blog every day has meant that I have pushed through the crapulence and apathy to post at times (and about subjects) that were uncomfortable for me. That actually proved beneficial and I won’t forget that. Maybe sometimes, even if my instinct is to hide away from the world and not do the things that are challenging, what I really need is to put myself out there a little bit. Maybe sometimes throwing my shit out there for the universe to catch is what I need.

So, yay! Congratulations to me and all the others who made it through the grim month of NaBloPoMo.

Everyone who did it is HARD.

HARDCORE fabulous (and deserving of a rest).




Bababababababa

It’s been a full on couple of days.

We’ve been busy and it’s been draining.

One of the hard things about a time like this is trying to keep life as normal as possible for the children. As hard as you try, they’re always going to pick up on all the stress and the break from routine can mean they end up cranky and overtired.

They’ve all been doing quite well though and we were reminded today of just how amazingly adaptable babies can be sometimes. Today after another full day of being out and attending family functions, Grub was sitting on the couch with Beefcake, an hour past her bedtime, when she started babbling.

This is a new thing for her. The proper reduplicated babbling. Her sound of choice is “Bababababababababa”. She stayed up for another half an hour babababaing at everyone before succumbing to sleep in my arms.

Beefcake and I were thrilled in a nerdy sort of way. She’s growing up *sniff*.

It doesn’t take much to get us excited.




Funeral

Off to say goodbye today.

I think that’s a good enough reason to have a pretty boring old post.

I won’t let NaBloPoMo beat me, not this far into it.

I took the photo below a couple of days ago. It’s a little blurry but I think that effectively demonstrates the whirling dervish that is my boy. It could be interesting trying to keep him calm and still today. Heh, not likely.




Not pretty

I’ve been trying to gather myself together for tomorrow and it’s not really going that well. You’d think I’d be used to it after four kids, but I’m always surprised at the way pregnancy distorts my body so horrifically. So I’m taking refuge in blogging so that maybe one of you will commiserate and let me know that it’s not that abnormal.

Since Grub was born (in June) I have to admit that my personal grooming time has taken a hit. I mean, it’s just not that easy to find the time to remove hair from your lady bits when your holding a baby 20 hours of the day. It’s just not.

There have been times since her birth when I’ve managed one armpit or one leg and then had to attend to whatever she needed from me. One hairy pit/leg does not make you feel glamorous. Maintenance of the more sensitive areas has not been attempted as I’m too worried I’ll end up with it half done. THAT would not be pretty.

The fact that my body is being sucked dry of all it’s vital nutrients is not doing wonders for my hair and nails. My nails keep chipping. Large chunks coming out. I keep ending up with two or three nails looking like I’ve chewed them down as far as they’ll go and a couple of long chipped ones. Again, not that pretty really.

Normally it doesn’t bother me but when I have to attend some sort of event, such as my Pa’s funeral tomorrow, it kinda gets me down. I don’t want to show up in front of all of my extended family and family friends, not to mention hundreds of other people (Pa was well loved by his community), looking like a swamp creature.

It’s bad enough that I’m still wearing all of my pregnancy-related fat deposits, making me look like a frump in even my most favored attire, but add to that the slightly odd, off-kilter haircut that my hairdresser saddled me with when I was eight months pregnant and is still not long enough to have re-cut into something more appealing and it’s just not pretty.

So, spare a thought for me tomorrow as I try to cram my hairy legs into my most generously cut and forgiving trousers, find a blouse that does not have a stain (and will not mean having to practically take it off in order to feed grub) and smear something on my face in an attempt to hide the bags under my eyes. It will not be pretty.




6,6,6,6,6,6

At times like these, it’s great when you have posts waiting in the wings. Bloody NaBloPoMo.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Fe tagged me for a meme a wee while ago. I fully intended to do it but then my computer broke and blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I was required to look in my photos, at the sixth folder, then find the sixth photo. It involved a few more sixths than that, due to some “organisation” Beefcake style, before I was able to actually reach a photo but here it is.

It’s the Lloyds building in London. Taken on my birthday last year when my darling husband thought to indulge my love of all things architecturally interesting by taking me on a boozy tour of fabulous London buildings (sans children!). Heaven!

I was supposed to do the same with an online photo thingy and would have if I used such a thing. Being married to a paranoid nerdy type is an odd, odd life sometimes. We have our own nerdy family photo website which he is “changing” at the moment so, there ya go.

I’m not passing it on, for various reasons, but anyone who cares to is welcome to do the memey thing.

I don’t think I’m very good at memes.




Moan

I’m feeling all kinds of emotions at the moment.

I’m sad about my Pa. I’m sad but I have been expecting it for some time and I have done a lot of grieving over the years of his decline. I’m glad that he got the chance to have a say in how it all ended. I’m glad that his children were all with him in those final days.

In many ways it was what people call a good death. I do understand this point, I do. When I was in my final year of uni, one of my prac supervisors (hospital practicum) said that she wanted a tattoo on her forehead that read “Not for 33″ (the code for resus). I agree with her. I just feel a little tired I think, and tired of hearing people talk about good and bad deaths. It’s just over. I know that when he was able to understand what was happening to him, he hated it and he asked that we not take extra measures to keep him alive, when it was his time to go. I am glad that we were able to fulfill that request for him.

The funeral is Friday. It’s going to be a long day with the small children (2.5 hour drive each way) but I’m glad that I am able to go. I will go and try not to dwell in my grieving and I will celebrate his life.

There is a bit of a sticking point though. My father, who I no longer see due to many years of ’stuff’, will be there. My mother is planning to leave him, she says (I am not convinced). In any event they still live together and my Pa was his father-in-law for 3o odd years and therefore my father will attend the funeral. He will almost certainly make a scene.

He is not a person who is able to judge appropriate versus inappropriate behaviour very well. He is extremely egocentric. He is convinced that my sister and I having broken off contact due to my mother “bad-mouthing” him. Yeah, nothing to do with all the years of trauma and abuse and his alcoholism. Not that.

It is self centred to worry about it, and, to be honest, I hate the tone that this post has taken. I just wish I didn’t have to deal with it. Beefcake and my bro-in-law will be there to keep him away. I”m just hoping he does and doesn’t try to make a scene. I just want to say goodbye to my Pa. I hope it can just be about him.

In the meantime, seeing as I can’t actually crawl into a little cave somewhere and wait this out, I am soooo grateful to have the blogs that I read and the people who read and comment here. It is actually fantastic therapy, to pull my head out of my own arse and read about what’s going on for other people. It helps tremendously.

P.S. Sorry for turning comments off on yesterday’s post. It just seemed appropriate to me.




In memory
“Mick” Cecil Angus B

6th July 1921 – 24th November 2008

Rest In Peace Pa

We love you




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