C'est Le Weekend: Good Grief!!

In 5 hours' time, we're stuffing the kiddies in the car and buggering down south where we will spend the night close to Dijon.

I am suddenly starting to feel excited.

Tomorrow afternoon, we'll be in my well-beloved Saint Chinian again, doing our Sunday-breakfast-shopping.

First, packing.
Food for the road.
Entertainment for the kids.
Phoning my mom and dad.

And then, holiday.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Bliss.

See you on Sunday!

(And have a wonderful weekend while you are at it!)

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My damn show

This morning I had a talk with my work coach again.
I like her.
She's no-nonsense and tolerant of my pathetic moods.
It all boils down, it seems, to my pleasing behaviour.
Hey baby, we aim to please, you know.

Her advice is to put myself first, which is more difficult than I can fathom right now.
It should be my show, my polonaise and I should be out in front.
But.
How do you stop being you???
Mmmmm.  
Something to worry about for after the holiday.

  

Meanwhile, after the coach, I went to the hairdresser who proceeded to dye my hair grey.
I'm not pleased, and feel and look old.
Humph.
And I paid 75 euros for this.
Sigh.
Think I'm going back to dyeing my own hair again.

And now we're home and I have to cook dinner, clean the entire house, pack everything for our holiday, and hope that the husband will be in a better mood than the one he left in this morning.
Because, frankly, I need positivity today.


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Oh Sweet Jesus

 

Five people screaming for various reasons.

One poor cat stuck in the middle.

One big, happy family.

Let's hope that the rest of the day is calm and loving.

But first, coffee.

Lots and lots of coffee.

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Pity

 

The Carnival of Souls.

How true, how true.

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I've spent the morning painting

And it was lovely.

 In spite of the rain outside - it was warm in my studio.

I had coffee and Shawn Phillips on the radio.

And I miss my parents something awful today.

Son#1 and #2 have gone to the Efteling on a school trip.

I hope they're warm enough - especially Son#2 who was too obstinate to put on a proper jacket on this 15-degree-summer's-day.

And I didn't have a fight in me this morning.

Petering out

The road to hell, and to falling flat out on your face, seems to be paved with good intentions.
Yesterday started out so well.
So well.
By late morning, my fatigue kicked in, Son#3 started crying continuously, Son#1 shadowed me constantly, and Son#2 tore into the kitchen and then out again, shouting epithets like a banshee.
I kind of lost it.
Idiot that I am, I took the kids in search of a special memory card for the portable gameboy-thing. 
Not one of my most glorious moments - especially when we are all tired / hungry /  in need of a public restroom.

The night was tough - I woke at 2 a.m. then stayed awake until 5 a.m., and then Son#2 cancelled my party at 5h45.
No-one slept again after that, and believe you me, I tried hard.

I sent a text message to the husband to hurry on home, please.
I'm boiling eggs.
I have coffee.
I'm still breathing.
And the husband will be looking after the kids for the rest of the day (and hopefully he won't read this before he decides to return home).


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Call 'm Curly

You either want to gobble him up or drag him off to the hairdresser.

Lovelovelove him!

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Sunshiny Saturday Mornings

The sun is out.
We're supposed to meet a new-ish friend this afternoon but her son has foot-and-mouth disease.
Not sure if we should risk it.
We're off to France on Friday afternoon, you know.
Wouldn't want it circulating in the car...

The husband has gone off on a weekend away with old colleagues from his time in South Africa.
I let the kids go to bed at 21h15 last night.
Did my best to make up a story about tanks and soldiers and where the husband is the hero.
The husband does it better.
I send the soldiers back to base for a cup of tea in my versions - this is, for obvious reasons, not as interesting as combat helicopters and wounded men, and hanging out in the bar with the boys at the end of a long day fighting and killing people off, pictures of semi-naked chicks on the walls.
Mmmmmm.

Meanwhile, Son#1 is training himself to spy on people (???), Son#2 is still in his pajamas and refuses to get dressed, and Son#3 can't make up his mind whether he wants a banana now or not.
I'm busy with riveting stuff, as you can see.
But I feel pretty damn positive.

Yesterday, and so far today, I'm repeating positive things to myself all the time.
Affirmations of how great my life is.
And how great I am.

Just keep going, baby.


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C'est Le Weekend: Blissful Rain

The heat is gone, and halle-bleeding-lujah for that.
Today it's rain and coffee and snuggling with Son#3.
I may do the laundry, then again, I might not.

Yesterday, I had that talk with my boss after all - I wanted to postpone the talk, but I postponed writing him an email until it was too late.
Oh well.
After freaking out about it in the morning, I decided to go to the movies instead - After earth - which was o.k.
Just me, an empty movie theater and lots of popcorn.

Then, last night, a treasured colleague had her farewell feast, as she's becoming a pensioner.
It was a fantastic evening.
We went to Barlucca in Breda, ate delicious food, and laughed a helluvalot.
Did wonders for the soul.
Another colleague asked if I would like to get involved in developing a curriculum for Environmental Crime.
Yes!

Today I'm utterly pooped after a short night (my own fault), but I feel good.

Later, I'm phoning my parents (my dad is on his second - new - chemotherapy, has had lots of pain of late).
I'm split into different worlds.

Have a good, contented weekend.
Contentment with one's life is, I am starting to believe, the pinnacle of what could be considered, the good life.


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a perfect bedpartner

Son#1 likes to sleep with me.
When the husband went for a run last night, he grabbed the opportunity to jump in bed with me.
Excuse: It's too hot to sleep.

We both read our books in blissful quietude for a while, then he asked if he could read to me.
Slowly but surely, he disentangled himself from Wednesday, and started drifting towards Thursday.
A rare, special, interesting (and male) Sleeping Beauty.

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Good advice

Yup!

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Exhaling

Today it is 33 degrees Celsius.

We're cooking.

Tomorrow will be 38 degrees.

(Then summer will be over again).

Meanwhile I've had parent-teacher meetings for both Son#1 and #2.

Sigh.

We're having Son#1's IQ tested and his behaviour assessed.

Son#2 didn't spring the trap either.

 Sigh.

 Son#3 has a helluva fever raging.

I'm so tired of problems - big and bloody small - that I wish I could pile us all into the mini-van and drive to Tarifa.

Begin anew.

Leave everything behind.

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Weekend Life

Stick them in the shower.

Patience and a sense of humor required.

But  Son#3 would not cooperate.

 

Son#2 woke us all up this morning at 6 a.m.

I let the husband sleep late so that I can cash in on a nap a bit later.

This work-thing has me a bit stressed.

Sigh.

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Pay it forward/back

I know that life is busy.
And quite complicated at the moment.
But there is room for more.
(I think).
And I don't mean more problems, things to do or complications, thankyouverymuch.

I follow a blog that I read from time to time about a nurse that is currently working in India, and it always shames me when I think of our relatively easy (materialistic) life.
There is so much need in the world.

I think I'm signing up for some form of volunteer-work, because it's not just about me.
It's not just about my family or my small circle of friends.
And it's definitely not about stuff.

I suppose it's about time and attention and how much of it we can give each other.
We are all part of one, big family.
We are all connected.
Being competitive, conniving and selfish has no place in this relationship with the rest of the world.

If I want, I need to give, too. 

First, however, breakfast, that Son#1 has so lovingly prepared while I lay reading in bed this morning.
The husband went to friends' in Breda last night.
Son#2 snuck into our bed in the wee hours and lay sniffing for about 2 hours after.
The husband will be back later, and we'll have a good day, I can feel it.
Charity also starts at home, like my mother used to say.


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C'est Le Weekend: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

In a little while, I have a friend coming from Utrecht.
She's bringing chocolate cake and is therefore welcome.
While I wait, I'm having coffee and have stuck Son#3 in front of his beloved Dora, on TV.

Yesterday I started working again, and I came home completely disheveled and in tears.
Poor little burnout girl.
This morning, my self-pity is gone, but my tension has remained.
Oh well.
Tonight I'll watch some more episodes of Breaking Bad (a high school chemistry teacher with terminal cancer that starts cooking up Meth to ensure his family is left with money after he dies).
Makes me feel rebellious and gives Frank Sinatra's I did it my way a new meaning.
Unfortunately, I can't cook.

Come on Lottery (for whom I have reverent respect):  

Be mine before Monday Mo(u)rning.

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Sleep. Disturbed.

Today.

We started early.

5h30 to be exact.

 Son#3 and I left early.

I spoke to my new work-coach-person.

And then I sat in my office.

A slow start.

A talk with my boss.

Now I'm home again after what feels like an eternity since this morning.
I'm exhausted.
Shaky and heart palpitations.
This is stress.

But.
Wine.
Movie with husband.
Book & Bed.
Small steps.
Tiny ones.
 

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Just a little love

Son#2 is Satan.

And so am I, because I can't seem to keep my temper in check when he is being Satan.

Sigh.

I think we haven't slept properly now for about 3 weeks.

Lots of stressed things for the boys (Son#1's swimming exam), trip to Amsterdam that tired the boys out, waking, waking, waking at night.

Meanwhile the laundry is overtaking the kitchen and our bedroom.

I now understand what my Personal Organizer-friend said:  

Don't buy more baskets, you'll just stuff more stuff into them.

True as can be.

I don't need better storage solutions, I need less stuff.

But.

Dear Reader:

I vow to be kind and patient for the rest of the day.

And take Son#3 for a cheap breakfast

(wishing my parents were with us).

Just a little love.

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Amsterdam on a Monday

Son#1 and #2 went to Amsterdam yesterday morning.
I had bought a cheap, ride-all-over-the-place-all-day train ticket from the Hema, paid a supplement for the speed train and we set off early.

 Destination:  Rijksmuseum.

Once in Amsterdam, we took the tram from the station to the Hobbemastraat.
We queued outside the Rijksmuseum.
Son#2, who can never ever ever stand still, managed to climb halfway up a wall, where a dog had pooed.  
Go figure.
Wall-pooping dogs in the capital.

Finally, inside, we took a break for juice and coffee.
We washed the poo off Son#2's shoe.

Walked through the Asian section.

Up the stairs, in search of the Night Watch.

(Might not have been such a great idea to visit a museum with Son#2).

Outside, we walked to the Leidseplein in search of lunch, which we enjoyed at Burger King.
The tram to the Dam, then a short walk to the cheesy tourist boats for a trip through the canals.
It was great.

We even bought the over-the-top cheesy photograph that was taken as we were getting onto the cheesy tourist boat.

Train.
Home.
Pooped.
Wine.
 
 
 

Words to Live By

And so it is.

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Oh Boy

Date night.

At long last.

We went to Breda.  

First drinks and snacks at Front.

  

Then we saw Oh Boy at the theatre.

Great movie.

 A great night.

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C'est Le Weekend: Hello, Sunshine!

You are so welcome!

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Patch/Pirate

The inevitable.

The good eye is patched so the left, lazy eye can start working harder.

This could take yeeeeeeeears to fix.

 

Poor Son#2.

So self-conscious and shy.

Doesn't want to stand out in any crowd.

His mother's kid.

We went to the McDonald's as a consolation prize, where he sat crying in between gulps of an enormous milkshake.

And now we are stuffed.

On the way home, my car's engine-light went on.

Something's rotten in Denmark.

Sigh.

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

This is Son#2.
In my studio.
This bright, big orange egg-chair-thing gives endless pleasure, provided you have enough space to twirl someone around in it.

Today Son#2 and I are going to the ophthalmologist.
Hopefully, they won't need to tape his right eye shut.

Yesterday we had a friend over (actually, his mother insisted he come along, despite my protests of swimming-lesson-madness).  
She only has one child, must think I'm DayCare Woman and can handle any number of children (not).
These kinds of things accentuate my need of wine.
Sigh. 

Meanwhile, back in South Africa, my dad is seeing the oncologist for blood tests and whatnot.
Am with you, Daddy-O.


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In and out

Physiotherapy.
Lots of cuddling with Son#3.
Perhaps reading.

Then the swimming lesson-run.
Dinner.
Early to bed.
(and I mean:  EARLY)

I have no shame.


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Words to Live By

 

I truly believe this.

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Busybusybusy

The husband and I decided on the Languedoc again for the summer.
Boring, I know (luxury problems we have...).

We considered Sweden, and I would really like to see Scandinavia, but I also crave hot, dry weather.
Although it is snowing in the Pyrennees and 29 degrees in Lapland as I write.

Even if we are going to the Languedoc now for the fourth time, it feels good in a way.
It represents a kind of stability that is most welcome for the moment.

The week ahead is busy.
I have to go to the physiotherapist for my neck (which isn't broken after all), and Son#2 has to see the ophthalmologist on Thursday.
I need to make arrangements again to re-enter the work arena.
My dad is seeing his oncologist on Thursday to see what the effect of the chemotherapy was on his errant cells.
Accounts to pay.

And I'm cancelling my zen classes.
I haven't been for a number of weeks already, and it's hanging around my neck weighing me down like a boulder.
Life is too damn short.

Just for today

We woke at 7 a.m. this morning.
Bliss.
Bless kids who sleep 'late'.

It's a sunny day here in the Nether Lands.
The husband is pruning the bushes and ivy.
He discovered wood worm in a beam in our converted barn.
Oh well.

Meanwhile, Son#1 is playing on an old keyboard in my studio while Son#3 screams his lungs out in tune.
In a little while, we'll hopefully hit the Ikea to finally get the boys their promised bunk bed.
Hopefully we'll end the day with our summer shoes still on.
And a [vegetarian] barbecue.
With wine.

And while summer is teasing us every now and then in the Northern half of the planet, my parents are entering autumn in the South.
The world is both big and small.


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Grounded for Life

Last night, I went to my very good, kind friend Sandra's 42nd birthday drinks evening.
Lots of women from all over the world (Sandra is a member of an international club for women; I tag along and get to meet other people, for free).
It was a great evening, and I only left at 1h30, eventually walking into the house at 2 a.m.

The husband was waiting in his bathrobe in our door frame, telling me that I am henceforth grounded.
He was worried, bless.
Thought I lay mangled around a tree or had chucked myself off a bridge.
Must have been scaring him with my strange behaviour lately.
Sorry, love.

Punishment was getting up early this morning.
I let him sleep late when he goes out, you know.

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