Dialling ABBA

We should be listening to cheesy songs all day, but instead we ventured out to look for a desk for Son#1.

He's finally moving to his own room, away from annoying younger brothers.

The outing was an ordeal - three boys running off in different directions, or even wrestling each other to the ground.

I got sympathetic stares.

  

Although a date is just an arbitrary date, and tomorrow nothing will have changed magically overnight (except perhaps winning the lottery - we love you Lottoooooooo!!!), but still I'm happy as a lark that 2014 is over.

I hope that 2015 will hold more good than bad.

And for you too, dear reader.

Have a marvelous 2015.

 

 

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Last night faithful bed companion

Moments before he turned his head and promptly fell asleep.

Bless this boy.

I sleep contentedly with him beside me.

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Serpentine

Although our morning started at 5 a.m. (kids in bed with me, and bad dreams of work for me), the day promises to be good.
For one, the snow has solemnly promised to melt.
I actually slept despite restless legs and pain (I stretched and stretched before bed, and the husband gave me a vigorous arm- and backrub).
The house was already tidied last night.
Son#1 is being picked up tomorrow and coming home.
We still have food in the house, and a friend is coming over today.

It's not even 7 a.m. and the boys and I are tucked up in blankets and bathrobes on the sofa.
We have warm tea.
Life is good [enough].


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Pooped, so we rest

I think Frank Sinatra referred to good things when he sang 'You can have it all'.

In my case, however, my fever rages on, my pain continues, I don't sleep much and my legs are restless, as is my spirit.

I need to take up meditation again.

I don't know what being still means anymore, and my mind doesn't calm down.

Son#2 and #3 are good kids.

There are minor scuffles, but quickly dissolved.

I spoke to Son#1 last night.

It's going well at the in-laws, although he demolished another boy's snowman and the kid followed him back to the in-laws'  house, demanding retribution.

We feel strangely disjointed when he's not here.

Someone is missing from the puzzle that, strangely, is a perfect fit.

A friend from Kenya is popping over tomorrow.

Our week is otherwise calm.

I'm planning on studying a bit, cleaning a bit more.

And rest.

I would like rest.

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Snowed in

We are stuck in town.

The snow has been falling all night, all morning and shows no sign of letting up.

We don't have winter tires, and with a hill to navigate to get up on the dyke...

Mmmm.

The southern part of the country is huddled in snow, mist and traffic jams.

The husband built snowmen with the boys, their darkened paths quickly covered under a fresh layer of white again.

I stayed inside where it is warm and dry, listening to Hildegard Knef.

My muscles have turned to fired sinews.

The more my muscles hurt, the more they tense up.

I'm bad company today.

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Oof

Christmas dinner was a success.

We ate lamb and pears with gorgonzola, drank wine and were merry.

 

But today my fibromyalgia is in overdrive.

I haven't had it this bad in a helluva while.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

 

 

Today, left-overs for dinner.

It's been a Very Lazy day.

Son#1 went with my in-laws last night for a visit after Son#2 chickened out by the car, wanting to stay with me.

Bless.

We made the wee chicken a bed next to ours last night.

 

Merry, merry and then some.

 

 

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Sucking

Son#2 screams like a in-the-process-of-being-slaughtered pig when he doesn't get his way.

He's been very negative of late, and after a very, very short night, I lost it when he refused to brush his damn teeth this morning.

I'm sure the neighbours think we have a little torture chamber plus leather shop where we burn the kids with hot irons, tie them to the radiators, shackled, cold and hungry and dishing out whiplashes every now and then for not working fast enough.

 

We did the last shopping for the double damned Christmas dinner that has cost me a small fortune by now.

Roughly, I've spent a quarter of my salary on one measly dinner.

This doesn't feel right at all, you can just imagine.

 

We went to wash the car and then we came home.

After the squabbles this morning, I feel like a thug.

Undeserving of children.

Sigh.

Motherhood is a crap job.

 

 

The in-laws and my brother-in-law are coming over tomorrow.

The kids are getting mini-gifts.

Just one each.

I'm trying so hard to be a minimalist but it doesn't seem to work.

 

Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure.

 

Merry Christmas, dear reader.

Merry merry.

 

 

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That's life

I have long talks with Son#1.
He remains silent for a change.
I talk about life - that it goes up and down a lot, and that whenever it goes down, it will always go up again, and vice versa.

The husband and I watched a movie last night, then sat up talking for a while, about these ups and downs.
We all miss my father.
It feels like it was all a dream, that I imagined loving someone like my dad.

I let the cleaning lady go yesterday, with a face-saving excuse.
My grandmother's ring has disappeared - and if it wasn't the cleaning lady, then my heart-felt apologies and deep shame will be sent off into the cold universe - but the fact remains that one needs to be able to trust people, and if you don't, it causes a lot of stress.
I hope I'm wrongwrongwrong about the cleaning lady and that it will come out
But how relieved I felt afterwards.
The boys and I danced in the kitchen to loud country music, feeling all light and happy.  
I can just imagine what it will feel like when I leave my current employer.
Light. 

But this rambling brings me back to what I want to say.
I have very little heritage - immigration does that.
I have a necklace from my mother, my grandfather's watch that he bought in Tubruq, in Libya during the Second World War (which he saw as an opportunity to travel and carouse more than some conviction to fight for a moral purpose), and I had my grandmother's ring.
I have memories that I share only with parents and brother.

When I am no longer here, what my boys will recall about my dad will be limited and not the full shebang of a life shared.
It's an ungrounded feeling.
We flit through life, never really touching down.
This is the human condition, and the same for all of us, immigrant or not.

Must be the Christmas Blues.
These feelings pass.
It will go up again.
 



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Preparations & Pajama Days

We need plates for Christmas dinner with the in-laws, ones without chips and cracks.

Sadly, Ikea is no longer selling their super cheap 49 cents plates...

Now they have a white version that just screams cheapskate.

I'll have to go back to Ikea, along with the rest of the Nether Lands, for table runners and invest in new plates.

Sigh.
This whole Sinterklaas-Christmas Hell is costing a damn fortune.

Today is clean-up day.

I no longer feel bad if and when we break things.

The potential minimalism of being left with what we have is appealing.

If I buy new plates, I'd better donate the old ones to charity, lest they pile up in cupboards, never to be used again.

The boys are in their pajamas, playing Minecraft, talking constantly and writing Christmas cards to friends.

The husband is collecting empty glass jars and wine bottles (okay: mostly wine bottles) for the recycling bin.

I wish we had a personal organizer to come and boss us around.

'Chuck this!'

'Out with that!'

I'm too tired to make any decisions on my own.

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A most wonderful night

The boys'  Christmas dinner at school turned into a lovely, Christmassy evening.

We dropped them off, and an hour and a half later, the only shop in the village had set up a Christmas market, completed with bonfires and gluhwein and stands with all things festive.

And then the boys ran around for nigh 2 hours in the dark, around and around the playground, while the husband and I talked to other parents, nice ones.

We came home, shoved the boys in the shower and into bed, and they were all gone within minutes.

 Today the schools close.

Time to rest.


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Scrooge Shines

Son#1 SHONE in his school play last night.

He remembered most of his whopping 91 lines.

We are proud as punch.

The poor blighter almost threw up on stage, all those nerves have had him in their grip for the better part of the past fortnight.
 

He came home on a high, telling us that as long as he can get back on stage, his life would be good.

Bless.

The kids are free this afternoon.

Tonight they have a Christmas dinner at school.

They must be utterly pooped.

I'm spending my child-free morning - my last until the 5th of January - watching crap on TV.

Nothing like TV to utterly waste one's time.

Ha!



Bloomin' festive

Another referral to the doctor of internal medicine - and I have been warned by the GP:  we probably won't find anything.
All my blood tests were normal.
But she did say that I should not be working now - if the body is tired, it must rest.
Amen, amen.
The company doctor booked me off work until the 20th of January.
My boss must be pretty damn miffed, harhar.

Son#3  and I need to buy batteries at Ikea where they are cheap, this morning.
Son#1 has his debut on his school stage tonight, the leading role - he is Scrooge himself.
The poor blighter has tummy aches and headaches from the stress, methinks.
He fell asleep with me last night, and I only woke this morning at 7.
Hea-ven-ly.
Son#2 was fairly calm this morning.
All three boys could do with a holiday, and luckily (for them, at least) the school holidays are starting this Friday.

The weather is indeed frightful - grey skies, wind, rain.
The boys cycled to school in the semi-darkness of this winter morning, peddling against the wind.
They're good kids, you know.


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Grounding

 

Just this.

 

 

 

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Pat on the shoulder

A quiet day.

I found our cleaning lady drinking MY vitamins in the kitchen this morning.

Miffed is what I am.

 



 

My fever rages on.

I am seeing my doctor tomorrow afternoon.

Lupus?
Lymphoma?
Leukemia?
Or simply bad Luck?

It keeps me awake at night.

 

Both the husband and I could do with some answers now. 

The uncertainty is killing.

Kudos to the husband for keeping upright in the face of ongoing stress.

It's tough to live with someone who is always ill.

 

 

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Oh come all ye useless

The night was short but so is my temper this morning.

And then some.

Son#2 is a tough cookie and enjoys squealing like a slaughtered pig (I kid you not).

I lay awake worrying about my blood tests and the husband's and Son#2's conflict.

My thoughts are dark today, and that's okay.

We'll put up the Christmas tree with the boys later.

I made wreaths last night and Son#2 hung them up everywhere.

Another Christmas without my dad.

We miss him horribly, terribly so.

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C'est Le Weekend: The ties that bind us

I went for the damn blood tests this morning, seeing as my fever was spiking again at 39,6 degrees.

Son#3 and I then went to a café to drink coffee, but that was cut short due to his damn stomach bug.

Home, Son#2 also succumbed.

I'm now officially sick of sickness.

Results for the blood tests on Tuesday.

 

The good news is that I passed all my exams, and my average is high enough to continue with additional courses.

Relief!

 

 

Meanwhile, I need a time-out from kids and their tantrums, especially Son#2's combustant mood swings and his conflict with the husband.

Sigh.

And my desperation for a different job is getting to me.

Tuesday, when I've decided to go to work to organize all the backlog, is looming and getting closer and the thought of being there depresses me no end.

Oy.

 

 



The sheep has been shorn

I hardly recognize Son#3.

I miss my cherubic little devil with his golden curls.

What have I done??? 

My babe is gone.

Sigh.

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Burst

Son#3, a bit volatile this morning, and I are home this morning.
It's almost noon and I have yet to put the poor kid into normal clothes and pack away his pajamas.
I've been paying bills (barf barf) and sipping a dwindling supply of coffee.

All the rain of the morning has dissipated and outside there are blue skies with a wee bit of wind.
This afternoon all three sons of anarchy are going to the hairdresser.
Son#2's glasses broke - AGAIN - and I'm afraid I'll have to buy an entire new pair.
Good grief.


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Mr Stomach Bug

All 3 boys have been shipped to school, regardless of stomach bug status.

Son#2 came home for lunch yesterday, also affected, as was Son#1 by evening.

I sat alone this morning, eating carrot cake that I baked with #2 and #3 yesterday (they bake, I eat), and watched talkshows and teleshopping channels.

Sad but lovely.

But I don't know what 'resting' means anymore.

The husband hovers at home, working upstairs.

I'm going back to work next week, I think, regardless of my fever.

Teaching doesn't allow illness: all my classes are simply postponed - not cancelled or taught by anyone else.

Sigh.

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When your children are sick

Son#3 is really, really not feeling well.

We spent the night together in his tiny toddler bed, getting up every ten minutes or so to run to the bathroom.

The dreaded stomach bug has reaped its third victim.

I finally fell asleep at 4 a.m.

 

 

The sun is shining today, and I'm lying in bed with my last child, watching cartoons.

I wish I could stay home every day.

I'd make a most excellent housewife.

Ha!

 

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The good, the bad and the ugly

Felled by Stomach Flu.

Oi vey.

The week and weekend took a different route.

My GP laughed when I told her about the stomach bug.

I'm picking up any and every bug that floats around.

But the good news:

I got 82% for my first exam.

The other two won't be that high.

It doesn't matter.

I tried.


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I went to hell

And actually survived it.

Son 3's daycare had a Sinterklaas party, and Son#2, still a believer, could tag along.
When we came home, Son#3 threw the Mother of all Tantrums.
Kicking, hitting, screaming, scratching.
He even continued this morning.
Conclusive thoughts on Sinterklaas:  He is bad for family finances and relations.

I had to leave Son#1 home with the husband, but after an entire morning at school in conflict with his teachers, he was bawling his eyes out by lunchtime and refusing to go back.

I phoned his teacher and told her he was staying home, but she wasn't too happy about that.

He's still just a kid.

My fever continues, slightly lower, but fever nonetheless.

Almost Copenhagen.

Or is it Kopenhagen?

What would a Dane say?

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List of wishes

It's not a long list.

Oil paints.

Paper for abovementioned oil paints.

A return ticket by train to Amsterdam on a Saturday so I may visit a friend and drink expensive, overpriced Starbuckses (plural).

A morning (or longer) to see my friend Elma.

Time to use said oil paints and paper.

Time to study.

A date with the husband.

An outing with the boys with fun and no tantrums (be it adult or child).

My mother.

And a new job.

Come on, Universe.

Make it happen.

I please easily.

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Decisions, decisions

Mmmmmmm.

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