Last year

It must be the distance, the thousands and thousands of kilometres from the bottom tip of Africa, that makes me feel that my dad didn't really pass away a year ago.

Or a stubborn belief that life is supposed to be good (which it isn't).

Life ain't good nor easy nor fair and constructs of magic and gods lull us into a false belief that we are protected and cared for.

But really:

The only beings who care for our sorry selves, are the other poor sods also plodding through life, trying to make sense of pain and death.

And my father was one of those that truly and deeply cared for me.

He was 50% of my official fanclub.

Life, dear reader, can be utterly dark.

Without my dad, it seems even darker.

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Shrouded

A fog has descended on The Nether Lands.
I escaped work in lieu of a quiet eavesdropping & study morning in Ikea's restaurant.
It's been nearly 6 weeks since I was here the last time, so I suppose I can come here again.

Today is the day before tomorrow, which is a black-bad day.
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of my father's death.
The weather plays along with my mood.
Hang in there, mom.
x

Aujordhuimerci

Forgive me.
This is a long one, but the internet was dodgy up on my French hill, and it left me with more time to do nothing but stare.

We had it goooooood.

We had lots of these (but in view of the surroundings, it was A-Okay).
Tantrum #4152.

Perhaps we need to accept that Son#1 will never accept Son#2 and that #2 will always try to get #1's approval (to his own detriment, poor bunny)?

  

The dining area was lu-ver-ley and I want that red cupboard.

Hand luggage?
(Didn't work out)

Another view of our view

We drove to Saint-Chinian and bought small sausages and 4 bars of soap (and I love bars of soap, not the shower crap that comes in tubes).

But the husband had a near heart attack after we split #1 and #2 up in the car and they STILL fought like cats and dogs (or lions and tigers).

But forgodssakes, it's a 7-seater car.

There are limits to limits.

After the meltdown & market, we drove around aimlessly, too scared to go back to the house and all the damn fighting that would inevitably be part of the day there.

It turned into a stop in Capestang with quiet cathedral until Son#2 needed to pee.

A narrow miss of the large crucifix outside. 

Son#1 spent his days in a huff, bored and pre-pubescent (oh boy).

The husband is right:  being bored means that you have time.

What a damn luxury.

The husband and I are never bored...

There was sand and water in the garden.

Life was good.

Thinking out of the box:

The boys went exploring outside and were chased away by an angry lady, causing Son#3 to come home, bursting into tears.

One of those open-mouthed wails where sadness comes from a deep and lonely place.

The poor thing never hears 'no'.

Dinner for the husband:

I had wine (a bit too much) and cheese (for the first time since August) and my body didn't quite know what to make of that.

 

 

One morning, we drove to Meze, a lovely place, really, with a small marina and beach where the boys frolicked until their faces turned blue (it's October, but we're used to the Netherlands - the 20 degrees we were experiencing here is akin to high summer).

Son#2 stepped on a sea urchin or something, and try as we might, neither the husband nor I could get the tentacles (or whatever it might be) out of his left foot.

Then there was Narbonne...

  

But also Carcassonne (lovely, yet again).

And Collioure.
I have no words.
NO WORDS for beauty such as this:

We landed again in Belgium, under thick clouds and rain.
It felt like we were:
a)  returning to prison after a short break, and
b) being swept under a carpet of clouds.

I took Son#1 and #2 to the movies on Sunday, and then worked until the early hours of the morning for my lessons this morning.

I love France.
I can't speak much French anymore, but I adore the arid landscape, the wide skies, the differences in altitude that actually affords one a view.
I was happy there.



 

Back to the salt mines.

 

 

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Just Breakfast

Just Perfect, thankyouverymuch.

Son#1 caught a red bug in the garden, christened him 'Flip'.

God only knows where the poor thing was set free.

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Merde

We are in a tiny hamlet, Tudery.

The view is breathtaking, and the husband and I both wonder if my dad can see this.

He would have loved it.

And so would my mum.
 

We're all a bit grey under our eyes and around our mouths from the early morning rise.

Son#1 was a self-igniting rocket today:  everything and anything set him off.

We had many fights (and then I'll shut up or say something un-nice).

It's not even 7 p.m. and the boys are fast asleep.
 

We'll wake tomorrow morning to views of jagged rocks across the valley and grey-green oleanders, pine trees and vines, and we'll be thankful to be alive.

What a damn privilege this is.
 

(Roos:  I wish I could gift the four of you with a week here.
Sending you & yours lots of love and good thoughts from France.

Come on, Lotto, do your thing).

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On ne va, cherie

Two a.m.

Waking the boys in an hour.

A good holiday awaits.

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Mantra for Today (an old forgotten favourite)

 

Do your work

and step back.

 

Thank you, Lao Tzu.

 

 

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Dancing Zorba

Son#2 had his school recital.

He was 'Spring'.

You should have seen him bop and jive.

In his element.

Good grief but I adore this kid.

*Sigh*

Son#3 started vomiting yesterday, and now, at 3 a.m. just vomited again.

I changed his bedding but he needs to fall asleep again and so do I.

I need sleep.

Neeeeeeeeeeeeed it.

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Study, sister

The winter quilts have been unearthed from the attic.

A day of knowledge awaits.

Bliss.

Pure Bliss.

A run-in with Muhammad Ali

My face-swelling has hopefully reached its zenith and will only go down from here.

'Hamster' doesn't quite cover it.

If I would venture outside, someone would surely think that the good husband beat the sparks out of me.

I'm staying home today and tomorrow, spending my days on my knees, praying, hoping that my face won't discolour any more than it has already.

Vanity is a sad state.

What I love though, is how the boys just accept me with busted face and all.

Nary a word is mentioned.

Gotta love them kiddos.



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A ladder to somewhere

The idea of a sabbatical is still there.

Or a completely different existence.

Preferably the latter, thankyouverymuch.

The husband - wisely - mentioned yesterday how all the material crap we've accumulated over the past 15 years has contributed absolutely nothing - zip, bupkis, nada - to our happiness.

Au contraire.

More shit to worry about keeping, maintaining, clinging to status in the eyes of people who don't give a hoot if we live or die.

Come on, Signs.

Help us out here.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, the REAL swelling has begun, taking my right eye along with it.
Apparently the swelling peaks on day 3 (Monday) but if this trend continues, I might float off into space with my ballooned head.
It hurts like hell, too.


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Flat

So far so good:

My face hasn't swollen too much.

The pain is ok too.

(We ♥ pain medicashun, hic)

We may even venture out with my semi-busted-up visage because we're running low on coffee.

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Not-so-minor-surgery after all.

Mmmmmm.
It turned out to be a bigger deal than I thought.
Armed with painkillers and antibiotics, I left the hospital looking like a stroke victim - the right side of my face sagging downwards.

The doctor and nurses had packaged me in blue protective clothing, even my head, leaving my mouth open and a small slit for my eyes so I could be aware of Dr Doom's approach.
It wasn't the glorified dentist's visit I had imagined but a proper operation.

But they were kind, even when I drooled and slurred my words afterwards, and shook the doctor's hand with clammy palms.
A weekend of studying and recuperation awaits. 
Everything is going to be a-okay.


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C'est Le Weekend: Surgery

Minor jaw surgery this afternoon for the naughty root canal.

Son#3 is looking preppy and we've been eating apples and doing laundry and making Bulletproof coffee (coffee blitzed with coconut oil) which staves off hunger and is quite yummy.

In a little while, Thing#1 and #2 will be returning for lunch, and a glass man is coming to give us a quote for new windows so we won't freeze to death this winter.

Life goes on all around us.
Thank goodness.


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Unhurried

I fell asleep at around 21h30 last night and woke at 4 a.m. when the husband sat reading in the quiet envelope of nighttime.
Eventually, I too fell asleep again, and we woke at 7h15 from the husband's alarm clock.
What a luxury to wake later than my normal 6 a.m. and pushing-rushing to start the day with 3 boys and a self that need to be somewhere.

I'm hosting an extra helpdesk for my students that are writing an exam on Monday.
No good deed goes unpunished - I could have stayed in bed, you know, instead of having volunteered to help the no-clued-blighters.
Oh well.
At least 2 showed up.

Another student, of whom I am a mentor, failed his internship, and is also getting the advice to seek education and eventual employment on a lower educational level, and we're all a bit scared he might flip out. 

Son#1 and #2 are coming home for lunch and then I'll pick up Son#3.
I need to get my butt in gear and study - today, tomorrow and all through the weekend, and after that too.

Next week Saturday we'll be flying to France, and I have double lessons for my criminology courses right after we return.
What a busy time this has been.

Get through the day, then home, and tomorrow afternoon I'm having jaw surgery [insert a sarcastic 'hallelujah'].

After tomorrow's that-ought-to-be-painful surgery, my medical agenda is clean and clear (I hope), and I'd like to keep it that way.
Long sigh.

By mid-November, all this crap and stress with work and studies will be over.
We'll be starting again, but that's a different chapter.


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In a forest in Germany

He and I both froze with acrophobia on the treetop walk, wimps that we are.
 

This boy is spoilt rotten, indulged and loved.

It is as it should be.
 

I'm trying to organize parental leave for February through to April.

This will give me a day and a bit off work each week.

(A.k.a. trying to stay sane strategy)

Fingers crossed.

Today, a year ago, I spoke to my dad on the phone for the last time.
He was out of breath and sounded weak and I asked him to give the phone to my mother.
It's only this morning during a class that I realized it was the 7th of October.
A whole year and different self ago.

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Commensurate

Don't worry.

I had to look it up too.

 

Monday started early-ish, but at least everyone slept through the night with its blood-sucking mosquitoes that we killed in Son#1 and #2's room this morning.

I have meetings and classes and coffee.

 

 

Our weekend was good, although my frustration and irritation levels reached its zenith yesterday.

Saturday took Son#1 and I to the coast for a rugby tournament, during which the good mother went for a walk on the beach + glass of wine which was wonderful.

Too bad we got stuck in a helluva traffic jam on the way home, and eventually we snaked through Belgium and stopped at McDonald's to reward Son#1's patience.

It was nice, the two of us in the car, laughing and talking Minecraft.

 

Yesterday was not too shabby (apart from the moods), and the husband took all 3 boys to the woods to pick up chestnuts, build huts and do things that boys do in woods.

I stayed home, cleaned, studied a helluva lot, ate popcorn and phoned my mom.

 

But back to the title.

My amount of work was commensurate with the amount of energy I had available yesterday.

I can only hope today will turn out to be the same.

 

Have a good week, dear reader.

 

 

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C'est Le Weekend: Bleach

Before my friend Elma came over today, I attempted to clean the house - especially the bathroom. 
I used a bleach spray in the shower which seems to have left a fine bleach fall-out zone on my clothes, now evident in the evening glare of bright bathrooms.
Oh dear.
Problem is, my weight has dropped 7,5 kg and I have very little to wear as it is.
Another problem is that my budget is somewhat limited, so I'll have to lose more weight to fit into very old clothes that I hung on to (my 'thin days').
Oi.
I'm thinking black permanent markers for my black work skirt.
Nobody would suspect this behaviour from a 40 year old, right?

The husband has gone out with a friend and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open at 9 p.m., as well as keeping Son#1 in his own bed where he has snuck out of for the last 3 nights.
Kudos for the husband who manages to get him back in his top bunk every night.
Son#2 has heavy issues with living and especially dying. 
Poor bunny.
Son#3 is a high pitched joy, and we read 'Where the wild things are' every night.
Every night.

A lot to be grateful for, especially my like-minded friend.
I feel less like Moses tonight (of the 'foreigner in a foreign land'-variety).
Hello weekend.



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The good news is

I don't seem to have Addison's disease, and my thyroid is okay, but the endocrinologist couldn't find anything wrong with me.
Cortisol and thyroid are both low, but hey, apparently some people have low cortisol and thyroid.
I could have had a pituitary stroke during one of my giving-birth-experiences, but then I'd need to get more tests, and if it turned out to be positive, then I'd need to take hydrocortisone which will only damage my adrenal glands, bringing me full circle back to Addison's.
Sigh.
The endocrinologist told me that I was 40 and needed to learn to live with it.
I'm staying out of the hospital circuit from now on.
Never liked them anyway.

A friend recommended a naturopath in Breda, but it's not covered by the medical aid and quite costly.
For now, I'm going to continue with the Autoimmune Protocol, and see where that leads me.
I need to reduce inflammation in my body, heal my gut, heal my damn life.
The husband and I are both convinced that we need to start looking at an alternative life than the one we have.
We'll just have to see where we end up.

Son#1 and #2 crawled into bed with me this morning, one under each arm.
Small moments of bliss in the early morning quiet.
What more is there in life?


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