Installment

Willem-Alexander is being 'installed' today (not crowned) as new King of The Nether Lands.
Sounds a bit like installing a new microwave.
I suppose we'll only see this once during our lives, so we'll probably watch the proceedings on TV.
I'm not very pro-royalty, I'm afraid.
And I don't even know why.
I suppose because I grew up with Queen Elizabeth as South Africa's ex-Queen, so my loyalties will always be more British in that regard.
Anyway.

 

What I'm really interested in today is winning €33,2 million which is the state lottery prize for today, and I'm scooping it up (Sorry if you had designs on it, but it's got my name written all over it).
What will life look like after today?

• Quit job.
• Paint.
• Buy an old 4x4 Landrover Discovery, green.
• Do Charity Work.
• Pay all my overdue accounts.
• But, first and foremost, fly to South Africa to see my mom and dad.

Blissful. 

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Good morning

The 3 stooges and I drove to Breda this morning to drop Son#3 off at the creche.
I think we're giving them notice tonight, but it tugs at my heartstrings to know that he'll have to go to a new daycare here in the village in the summer...  
Son#3 loves his daycare.  
Loves the girls/ladies working there.

One down, 2 kids to go.
We drove on to the Hema, bought t-shirts on sale for the boys, and a frame that I plan on painting something for this coming week.
A second breakfast for Son#2 who is always hungry.
Bland old coffee for the mother, who is prediabetic (doom and horror - I tested my bloodsugar this week, and it's official:  PreDiabetes).
So.
Now I'm cutting out carbohydrates as much as possible, which is bloody difficult if you're vegetarian.
I just couldn't bring myself to eat a cow or a sweet old, intelligent animal like a pig.
Nothing with blood.
Except fish, but they don't count, do they?
But I digress.

 
Son#1 is moody and sullen, and now it's almost lunchtime and he's already changed into his pajamas.
Outside, it's raining and 8 degrees.
But our kind cleaning lady came to sweep up our dirt so all I have to do now, is the laundry.
Then study.
Then dinner and picking up Son#3.
I think I can handle that.


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Pear Tree Blooming

Contrast.

Dark with the Light.

Living Green with Old Wood

Nature and Man

Side by Side.

 A precious realisation.

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It was called Tutti

But we delivered it to the baby birds last week.

Left it out on the table in a tiny plastic bowl.

And they came for it.

 

Now Son#3 actually sleeps through the night and has started speaking a helluvalot more, and surprisingly, not crying at all.

Big boys don't have a Tutti.

Rights of passage, my son.

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C'est Le Weekend: Tumult and Calm

It's Friday and the boys are going to their last school day for the next 2 weeks.  
Yes.
It's called the May Holiday [Hell].
A whole two weeks of having kids around me all the time.
I'm not used to it all that much anymore.

I have a helluvalot of studying to do, studying that I've been shirking in favour of household chores (I'm not kidding).
I don't know how I will remember all those facts, but I will.

Meanwhile, Son#2 is going to the doctor this afternoon to talk about his asthma and his suspiciously swollen face.  He wasn't bitten by a mosquito, so I don't know what's wrong with him.  He's also complaining of headaches all the time, and then I start getting nervous about that cyst of his.
Mmmm.

 
Today is rainy and the cat and Son#3 keep asking for food.
And I give it to them, so there will be some peace.


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Beauty

  

In all its many forms.

As long as the sun keeps shining, everything outside is beautiful.

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Tiny steps

This morning, I took the boys to school on the bikes.
They have a Circus-day at school, and as I left, I saw someone wheel in a popcorn machine.
Too cool.

I've been feeling very down and low the last few days.
I worry about my dad and his enormous amounts of pain.
Last night he took the morphine for the first time, but I don't know if it brought relief?
His lungs are still fluid-filled, and he needs to cough to expel it.
Immeasurable pain.
Wish I could carry it for you, Dad.

I also worry about my little nuclear family here in the Nether Lands.
The husband has too much stress.
I'm no better, and we keep wondering when life will get to be good.
Does it ever?
Or should we accept that this is it?
I don't know.
I keep waiting to finally grow up (nearing 40, ahem), and for Life to Start.
In Buddhism, it is believed that expectation is the root of all heartache.
Perhaps they're right.
Perhaps life is just mindful moments strung together.

Right now, the only value my life has, is the love that I feel.


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Love is...

When your two-year old brings you flower after flower after flower.

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The Hills Were Alive

Not with the sound of music, but of the 5 of us, together.
It was good in the Ardennes.
Peaceful-ish.

We rented a holiday house in Vielsalm, only 45 square meters.
I thought we would drive each other nuts, but the proximity was blissful, actually.
The big downer was that the poor husband was - still is - sick as an old sea dog, but even then he took the boys swimming, looking for wild boars in the woods, picking up wood, and for mini golf.
The husband is a great dad.
I can cook and clean and complain.
The 3 Cs quite prevalent in my life.

On Saturday, we went to PlopsaCoo, close to the Coo Waterfalls.

 
The boys had fun, went on rides, we ate french fries and drank beer, then back to the holiday home. 

Cold but cozy.
Last night, we came home late, and Son#1 only managed to go to bed at 23h00.
Sigh.

Meanwhile, my dad got a different form of morphine which we're hoping will help, and a higher dose of his existing pain medication, which is also showing less pain so far.
Hang in there you old fart!

Today I'll have to study my behind off, which I wish could be literal, because my behind has grown to enormous proportions, prompting me to go for a fast walk this morning.
Everything feels tight.
All my clothes.
Son#2 even remarked - with admiration, poor innocent dear:  Wow!  You have fat legs!  You must be very strong!

Shoot them or Hug them.
Sometimes the two go hand-in-hand.


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C'est Le Weekend: On the Road Again

The husband, wisely, decided we needed a change of scenery to pep up our murky moods, so we're off to the Belgian Ardennes this weekend.

It will be cold, but sunny, and as long as the boys can play outside, I am one happy woman.
Yesterday, to get into the swing of things, the boys set to cleaning the garden.

 
Son#1 is now convinced that he wants to be a gardener.
A juggling gardener, because he's been practising with tennis balls for a whole day now.

My dad is out of the hospital, and we're waiting for his new pain medication to kick in.
He stopped taking the Tramadol in hospital as he was starting to hallucinate on it, but then they offered him no other pain medication.
It sounds like the hospital from hell with sarcastic oncologists (When I get the sms from God, I'll let you know when your nausea passes) and prison-guard matrons (You've been transferred?  Well, you fall under my rules and regulations now).
Where does the 'caring'-part come in?
Shame on you, St George's.
Discharge seemed to be the better option.
Hang in there, darling Dad!

Sigh.
Now Son#3 is eating muesli and yoghurt for breakfast with an American football next to his bowl, mentioning 'zombies'.
The joys of having murderous older brothers.

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What can I say?

I'm a mommy's boy.

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What we think, we become

But!
Word of warning!

This does not apply to your physical being.

Because no-one thinks cancer or pain or suffering in all its many physical forms.

Thoughts do grow a life of their own.  I believe this.

If I think that my life is good, I will perceive it as good, and that's all that matters.

It's just perception.

 

But.

Now that my dad is not feeling 100%, all my previously-held-ideas evaporate.

I probably can't influence many things physically (but be sure I'll let you know when I succeed), but I can hold in the palm of my hand my perception of my life.

Life can be hard, but it is still wondrous.

Love is wondrous.

And the ability to love, most wondrous of all.

Our sole purpose in this life, might just be, simply to love.

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Well

This morning, I dropped Son#3 off at daycare and then went to the Hema for their 1-buck-breakfast and reading.
Quiet with coffee and solitude and my thoughts.
It's a 1-buck-breakfast but you pay 4 bucks for parking behind the Hema for 1 hour and 10 minutes.
Upside down.

Then I had an appointment with a company specializing in treating burnout, to assess my list of complaints.
It was pleasant enough, although I told them, fine, we can talk, but I'm not doing silly homework like writing in a diary about my feelings.
Hell, that's what the blog is for.
Perhaps I should just refer them to my blog.
Haha.

 
Am feeling cynical today.
Sick and cynical.
Worried, sick and cynical.

My dad is still in hospital, I think he's feeling better, but will only know when I phone my mother again tonight.
Don't want to wake him from possible sleep.

This afternoon, I'm having Nigella Lawson's spiced nuts for lunch, and studying for another hour or so, before I pick the boys up from their various schools.
Sigh.
 
 


 
 

Good Intentions

 You must give some time to your fellow man. 

Even if it's a little thing, do something for others - something for which you get no pay but the privilege of doing it.

Albert Schweitzer

My dad is still in hospital but no longer in critical condition.

He is so loved.

Utterly, well and truly loved.

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Critical Condition

In the night, my dad was taken to hospital again with extreme pain.
His blood pressure spiked at 205 over 148, kidney failure and super high calcium levels.
Worry.
Concern.
Multiple Myeloma is a bitch.

Yesterday I spoke to my dad for over an hour.
I'm so glad I got to talk to him.

 
Right now, we're taking it day by day.
Just now.
That's all.

The positives are that he was lucky enough to catch dr Voorman on duty - a kind, female doctor, who takes the time to speak to him.
And he got sooper-dooper strength painkillers.

Life is beautiful.
And precious.
 
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Long, long time ago

 

My dad and Son#1 on the beach in Port Elizabeth.

In awe and appreciation of being together, the sea, and life beyond the horizon.

They are both dreamers, you know. 

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C'est Le Weekend: Birthday Boy!

His Nibs is 2 years old today!

He awoke cranky and impatient, asking for pizza for breakfast.

We're both ill with bronchitis, but we're going out a bit later to buy some cake for the birthday boy, which will probably mostly be eaten by his mother.

My dad had fluid on his lungs from all the saline solution he got in the hospital, and hopefully his breathlessness has eased a bit.

New pain medication too.

It was such a busy busy week.

Everything happened at once and required my non-existent mental clarity and some decision-making.

Son#2 is off to his paternal grandparents tomorrow, we'll pick him up again on Sunday.

I will have to study my behind off as I'm writing an exam on the 10th of May.

Happy Birthday Bunny.

We're so glad you're alive and well!

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Dad

My dad is at home but in terrible pain and short of breath.

I wish, wish, wish I could take it away for him.

These are dark days for us.

Especially being 11 000 km away from my parents.

Son#1 thinks his granddad is invincible.

Son#2 sends kisses through the airwaves.

Son#3 repeats grandpa's name and can pick him out on photos.

(Quite clever for an aaaaaalmost 2-year-old).

We love you, Paw!

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This little boy

This little boy is sick.

Bronchitis.

Again.

Antibiotics and some sweet-mama-loving and we'll be right as rain again.

In Africa, my brother is turning 41 today.

And my dad is getting a CT scan and will hopefully be going home again within a day or 2.

One is blessed with family.

We forget this too often.

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Words to Live By

A rake of a man, Charles Bukowski, but he lived his life on his own terms.

And has my deepest respect for his courage in that. 

My dad is in the hospital again, his red blood count is too low and he's getting pain meds.
Hang in there you old fart.

My morning will also be spent at the doctor's office.
Son#3 has been sick since Friday and looks knackered and awful.
But first, breakfast and good wishes sent to my parents through the universe.

The less we need, the better we'll feel.

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Inuit Song

I came across this Inuit song a number of years ago in an anthropology museum in Antwerp.
Wrote it down and carried it around in my purse for many years.

It has stayed with me ever since.

Beautiful.


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Floored

My dad is home from the hospital - until Monday, when they'll test his calcium levels again.
It's hard to sleep in hospitals - I remember when I had my boys, and how all I wanted was to be back in my own chaos.
Stop hogging that calcium, Daddy-O.

Meanwhile, back in the Nether Lands, the husband and I took Son#2 and #3 to Breda yesterday morning.
Grey skies and grey buildings.
I want sun and blooming plants and hope.

 
I bought canvases on sale, we had expensive coffee and cakes, and then the husband bought books and a DVD.
Home we went.
Son#3 started developing a fever (almost 41 degrees!!!) which only broke at 2h30 this morning.
Poor bunny.

I'm thinking compassionate thoughts this morning.
Hoping I can keep it up.

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The Source

The origin of Foot-and-Mouth disease uncovered.

 

You are not alone in asking Why.

Kids really are disgusting sometimes!

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C'est Le Weekend: Fine Fine

My dad is still in hospital, two blood transfusions and pain meds later, it looks like he's feeling better.
Go Daddy Dearest!!

Meanwhile I got a whopping €97 parking fine for my bumper hanging over the pedestrian crossing in Breda.
Old, hardened criminal that I am.
It seems the cops foiled my evil and sinister plan to block unsuspecting pedestrians from crossing the road - this time.
But I'll succeed in the end [insert evil laugh].

Sigh.
(I won't start ranting about the uselessness of this fine - it's like hugging a cactus - futile and daft)

But it did set off a cascade of tears that had me scaring parents at the boys' school.
I just raised my red nose and swollen eyes and let them wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
Bit of curiosity never killed anyone, right?
I continued my wailing at home, phoned the husband who couldn't understand me from all my crying. He then rushed home, poured me wine and listened to my senseless moaning.
May all the gods bless him.
All of them.
Thoroughly.

It didn't stop the crying though, and I continued on and off until 3h30 this morning.

Now it is the weekend and Son#1 is going to the in-laws until Sunday.
I need to study and be calm and loving.

 
And I'm lighting a big, fat, old candle for my dad.
And for my mom, because she deserves one too.

I wish you a happy, contented, healthy and loving weekend.

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Daddy-O

My dad is in hospital again.

His calcium levels are far too high, and he sounded tired when I spoke to him last night.

 

Here is a huffy Son#3, strutting the playground in South Africa, to cheer you up, Daddy dearest.

We adore you!
Lest you forget.

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Evidence

There it is.

His head actually spins.

But he can be sweet too, if you just love him a helluvalot.
Same for all of us, I suppose.

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Sleeping beauty

In Africa.

Where he slept like the babe that he is.

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Tadaaaaaaaaaa!

 

My artistic effort.

50x50

Acrylic on Canvas 

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Easter Egg Hunt

The husband drew the long straw by hanging around in his bathrobe until it was too late for him to join us.

Mmmmm.

I've been duped, methinks.

The 3 boys and I went to the local football club to join the annual Easter Egg Hunt.

It was cold but sunny, and afterwards we drank coffee and juice at the clubhouse where I proceeded to stuff lollies into Son#3 at every indication of starting to cry.

Now the boys are playing football outside and I'm about to take a nap with Son#3.

I deserve it!

 

 

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