Oh gawd. How embarrassing. I mean initially, it certainly looked as though I had the pox.

The thing is, I’m really quite doctor-phobic. I mean, I have to be really suffering to head to the doctor. I was content to convince myself that it was chicken pox. Until yesterday.

Yesterday the sores began to kind of grow and look weird. They were weepy beyond the length of time that Dr Google said they would be. They no longer looked as though they were healing and it just felt wrong. I told Beefcake that I no longer thought it was chicken pox. He didn’t agree. Dr google couldn’t tell us.

The only other candidate seemed to be impetigo. Very similar symptoms initially, similar description but the images that Dr Google provided didn’t match. AT ALL. Really.

This morning the symptoms were worse. Instead of healing the sores seemed to be growing. Consistent with the dreaded impetigo. I got up in a panic. I yelled at Beefy and told him that I was convinced bacteria was eating my face off even if it didn’t look like anything on google images. He wasn’t convinced but took me off to the doctor anyway.

As an aside, have you ever tried to hide ugly face sores with your hair in a room full of strangers without looking like a complete loon? I tried a magazine for a while but it wasn’t exactly natural to be holding it high in front of my face and turning it with me each time I turned to speak with Beefy.

The doctor confirmed what I had already guessed. Impetigo it is. Go on Google it, and give yourself a treat

I earned myself both antibiotic ointment and a course of oral antibiotics.

I don’t think it helped that I seem to have been fighting off Pudding’s chesty lurgy as well as a bout of gastro and one or the other of these have caused breathing problems, extreme dizzyness and a temperature.

It still doesn’t look like any of the pictures on the internet.

It looks pretty bloody awful though.

This is the most embarrassing blog post I have ever had to write.

Instead of some viral illness I am covered in festy bacteria. I disgust myself.

So, there you have it. This is me, admitting that I am a moron, again.

The end.

So, um, yeah. I would post more pictures but I am unwilling to take the risk that someone may be eating or something. I look so diseased now that my husband won’t kiss me. Because he’s not shallow at all. Arsehole.

Admittedly there is a weeping pox sore just above my mouth but I have told him that I actually tolerate worse on a daily basis and I stand by that because boys are gross.

I do look like a rabid, oozing swamp creature. Really, I nearly made my Father-in-law leap away in fright. Not pretty.

Nobody else has been struck down as yet. We are just hanging in there to see if any of the kids break out all poxy. Pudding’s temp has come down today and he appears to be getting better so I am sure that is a sign that they are all going to be covered in pustules in the morning. It’s just the way these things work.

On the upside I seem to have stopped getting new spots and I actually think it’s kind of a mild case of pox. I have seen some photos of people literally covered from head to toe in pox so I think I’ve gotten away lightly. My only issue is that some of mine are so large or have kind of blended together with others and I just can’t imagine that they’ll heal very nicely. I’m going to look pretty interesting for the next couple of weeks. No amount of make-up is going to cover these babies.

Also, who knew that weepy, crusty, itchy, painful spots on your skin would be so uncomfortable? I mean, I guess I never really thought about it before but they really feel awful, actually. Along with my mild temp and slight breathing difficulties I think it’s safe to say I am NOT enjoying the chicken pox.

The outlaws delivered us some dinner tonight, which was nice. Kind of annoying though because if I am unwell then they just assume they should help out because naturally the poor widdle baby Beefcake could not handle cooking for the family while I’m sick, oh no. If he’s stricken with man-flu then they just leave me to it. Bastards. Still, hand delivered take-away dinner that we didn’t have to pay for – I am a moron for complaining.

P.S. When I told Beefcake that I told the whole internet that he wouldn’t kiss me he asked if I would change it if he came and kissed me now – I said I would add this post-script. How funny is that though – he is worried you will all judge him harshly. I’m sure that can be turned to my advantage…

Sorry, we’ve been reading quite a lot of rhyming Dr Seuss in our house lately. Pudding is an addict and can recite a few of the books word for word.

That’s not what we’re here to talk about though, on no.

On Thursday afternoon a weird spot appeared on my forehead. I thought it was a pimple but it behaved very strangely. Eventually it got quite a lot bigger and took on a sort of  “popped blister” appearance.

On Friday there was another one. On my cheek, then later that afternoon one just under my left eyebrow and then one actually amongst the eyebrow hairs. Now, I rarely get pimples, I might get the odd one or two here and there but the thought that I had four or five on my face (and large ones people) was really freaking me out.

The thing is, these “pimples” are sore, dreadfully so, and itchy.

So, I’m asking for your wisdom peeps and have employed my best blurry photog skills in this crisis.

I’ve never had The Pox. This afternoon though, as these spots have been more and more uncomfortable, it seems pretty likely that my run of good pox avoidance is at an end. In fact, just before I sat down to write this I noticed that the forehead one has a twin brother/sister blister that was just a raised red area this afternoon (you can make it out in the photos I just noticed, how nice, a record of it’s birth). I’d love to hear from you all that it is not. This is especially true as poor Pudding has come down with a cough and a temp and runny nose. I hope it’s just some random lurgy but I fear he is about to be all covered in pox himself. Poor baby.

So people, am I poxy?

***********************************

In other news, Rhubarb did very well at Saturday’s regatta. In his first race they were a very close second nearly the whole race and then ended up third. It was very exciting and at the finish there was less than a metre between first, second and third positions so he was thrilled. In his second race he was coxswain in a different boat and they came first! His first regatta medal. He was so happy. He had been feeling a bit discouraged as the first couple of regattas this season had not gone very well. This has shown him how much they are all improving and learning and renewed his enthusiasm for rowing. I’m glad because it is such a fantastic sport for him to be involved in. It is excellent for fitness and there is a great sense of community amongst all of the rowers no matter what year level and all of the families alike.

So.

Beefcake and I were having a conversation, last week. We were talking about money and things and how he could get another job (he was offered that job by the way but they asked him to take a pay cut which, I’m sure you’ll agree, rather defeats the purpose of his getting a new job in the first place), we talked about his taking on a short-term contract and doing that PLUS his current job to just get us through this rough patch. He could do this but I don’t even want to think about how tired he would be, seriously.

Then we came to the interesting bit. When I first suggested that I return to work I was only half serious. I mean, I haven’t been planning on it. In fact I have been planning on staying at home until Grub is at kindy or even school.

I left work when I was about 32 weeks pregnant with Pudding. My contract was supposed to continue until I was 38 weeks but my pelvis began playing up and it just became ridiculous so I stopped. At the time I felt very guilty about that. I was only a new grad and I had left clients and colleagues in the lurch. I felt awful.

Since then I have told myself and everyone else who would listen that I didn’t think I would be going back to that work. “I hated it”, I would say. Which was partly true but perhaps not as true as I thought it was. You see, after Beefcake and I  had this conversation and agreed that I would contact my professional organisation and get the ball rolling for my re-entry, my feelings changed.

By the next day I had realised that I actually didn’t hate my former profession. On the contrary, I actually missed it and *shock horror* felt excited at the prospect of going back to work.

It seems that over the years I have managed to trick my little mind into thinking that, although I adored my years at uni and thought I would love my chosen career, after 6 months of work I just hated it. I mean, I had a basis for this. I know quite a few others who went on to do other degrees and go in other directions, realising it just wasn’t for them. It wasn’t until last week that I realised that I wasn’t one one of them, I think, maybe.

Maybe I have never allowed myself to think about this with any serious intent before because the little ones were too young or because my pelvis has been too bad (which is still an issue – an issue I am ignoring) but let’s look at this:

• Beefcake works from home. Not only does he work from home but he is completely free to set his own hours, in fact it is necessary for him to work some night-time hours to be in line with the normal working day in the UK.
• Grub has recently reduced the amount of daytime feeding she does. She could easily be without me during the day and still feed in the morning and the evening without even noticing that I was gone.
• Pudding will be at kindy for four half-days a week next year, meaning that there will be good long breaks while Grub naps for Beefcake to work uninterrupted.

I don’t know why but as soon as I realised that this was a definite option I have been soooooo excited. Over the moon in fact.

I feel completely free to go to work knowing that Beefcake will be here caring for the kids. He can easily fit his work hours around it and we will have two incomes.

I know it’s going to be an adjustment for all of us and that I’ll be tired and pulled in different directions to some extent but I want this.

I have started the ball rolling.

I am going back to work and I am happy.

I am over the moon.

So obviously pageant went well. Given that my lovely, reasonforliving iphone and the family digital camera were killed in the pursuit of Christmas slappers and bagpipe marching bands.

Obviously there are no photos, well actually, Beefy did take some on his phone for me but I have not gotten around to uploading them and quite frankly they are much the same as last year’s.

It was almost unbearably hot. We were very lucky really. We began by hovering at the back of the crowd right at the parade kick-off point. We made it just in time to witness the blowing of the whistle and there must be something a little wrong with me as I was overcome with nostalgic emotion, I still remember taking the big kids to Pageant when they were quite small and they are so big now it seems almost unbelievable. Anyway, we sweltered in the full glare of the headingto39degrees sun for a few minutes by which time we all needed to take a break. We retreated to the shade provided by the portico of a large office building and … There we stayed.

Once we were there we realised that it afforded us a pretty good view and there was no risk of sun stroke. A no-brainer really. We lifted the kids up when the Big Guy came past and Pudding was so thrilled when Father Christmas waved in our direction. I felt crushingly guilty that we were filling his little mind full of Father Christmas propganda, something I am ideologically opposed to. In practice I get caught up in the “magic” of it all and can’t resist spinning the tale for them. Terrible.

All in all Pageant was worth it, despite the heat. The walk wasn’t too bad and I feel like it’s such a special thing to give to my kids. I spent most of my childhood in Melbourne, although my extended family were all in SA. I always felt not quite Victorian and not quite South Australian and I guess I feel that sharing these intrinsically South Australian things with our kids will provide them with a more solid sense of identity. Maybe, or something.

It was not worth losing my iphone though. The camera has recovered from it’s dunking, probably because it was in it’s nice padded case and my poor wee phone was nude.

*Sob*

There is hope, however. Apparently Apple will replace a water damaged iphone under warranty for about $260 including postage and all. So, we can’t quite do that for a couple of weeks due to the state of our finances but fingers crossed in a couple of weeks I will be able to hold the that gorgeous piece of electronics in my hand once again. Seriously, I feel like I have lost a limb!

When your eldest daughter puts your youngest daughter’s water bottle in a bag OPEN and that bag happens to contain your iphone, the result will not be pleasing.

If your insurance will not cover said iphone because you recently switched polices in order to save money, it will not be pleasing.

If the good digital camera was also in the bag and is similarly defunct, you may lose your mind for a minute and tell everybody  that Christmas is cancelled.

This will be a mistake and will produce strong feelings of guilt. You will be forced to apologise to those involved.

Apologising will not fix your phone.

• We sold the high chair and the pram on Ebay. We didn’t get enough for the pram for me to feel that it was worth giving up what seems to be the essential symbol of babyhood*. I sobbed all day on Tuesday when it was being collected. Mostly because there will be no more babies. Partly because this means Grub really is a big girl now. A toddler and not a baby. I asked Beefcake if I could buy it back. It was a bit pathetic.
• I am having a little problem with chocolate licorice bullets at the moment. I always like them but at the moment I am unable to stop at just a few. I eat the whole bag, I have left them in the kitchen in the hope that having to get up to get more will reduce my intake. It is not working. I am a hopeless, hopeless addict.
• My sister Patchouli! has admitted to me that she has started her own blog. This is fine except that since she has known about my blog she has mocked me mercilessly and relentlessly. She has never read this blog, she just knows about it. She expects similar restraint from me, which of course I will provide. I really wish I didn’t have to though. I am dying to look. I have almost considered telling someone else about it so that they can look for me and tell me about it. Naturally I won’t but still, tempting.
• Beefcake reads this blog,which is sometimes handy if I am looking to send him some sort of coded message. So here it is: Go and get a vasectomy (In case you were wondering that’s code for “Go and get a vasectomy”).
• Beefcake has brought me the bag of bullets now. They are not long for this world.
• It is sooooo hot here I think I might melt. We have no air conditioner. We have borrowed a small portable one but our current finances do not extend to buying a new one. We’ll have to organise something in the next few days though because it’s getting dire.
• It’s pageant on Saturday. You may remember my posts from last year. I am sure that this year’s pageant will provide just as much fabulous blog fodder. Last year though it was drizzling and chilly enough that Grub had to wear a beanie. The predicted top for Saturday is 39°C. It will be quite a different day. I shall have to find a vantage point in the shade so that I am not overwhelmed by the heat. Also we are walking there as we can’t really justify taking the car and parking. It’s maybe a twenty minute walk across the parklands at most. Heat makes me lazy. I don’t really want to.
• I am addicted to scrabble on my iphone. I have at least ten games going at any one time. It is a deadly time waster as there is a chat function too so I play and chat to Patchouli! all the time.
• My coriander plant died because I forgot to cover it with some shade. It was less mature than my other herbs which are still hanging in there. Bum.
• Rhubarb has a frightening Fbook habit. I have had to get on there once already to remove some chat that offended his Aunt and Uncle. He couldn’t see the problem. The thing is, he gets 90 minutes a day total computer time. He has been sneaking time at school. Not pleased. He is becoming such a teenager. It’s scary.
• I’m thinking of doing my requalification and going back to work a couple of days a week. I have to jump through a few hoops to be able to practise again as it has been four-and-a-half years since I worked but the money is needed. Beefcake would be able to look after the kids because he works from home. On those days he would just mostly work in the evening, which is fine. He is not overly keen, worrying that I will not manage with the pelvis and things but I think it will be fine. Worth thinking about, I guess.

*This is strange because all of my children but particularly Grub were carried in a sling all the time until near their first birthday.
Grub only used that pram about two dozen times really. Still. *sniff*