C'est Le Weekend: Boy in Love

Son#1 is very much in love.
Yesterday when he was supposed to study for geography, he told me about Jette.
Jette is Bob's girlfriend, but Son#1 told me he was a 'little bit' in love with Jette.
The beauty of youth and astonishment.

Many people don't have the ability to love another.
I'm glad to see evidence of this in my oldest child.
Bless.

We have a long weekend ahead.
Rugby practice tonight
Friends are coming over with Thai take-aways tomorrow evening.
A lunch appointment with colleagues on Sunday afternoon.
And then, Sons#1 and 2 have a day off on Monday.
I'll have to go for my blood tests with them in tow.

We still have no answers for my health issues.
I have no infection in my blood.
The stress of not knowing is tough.

It snowed during the night again.
The boys cycled to school regardless.
True Dutch Kids.


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Wherever you go, there you are

Gratitude ain't part of my vocabulary today.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Mostly, I feel trapped:

In a non-workable body, job and country.

Methinks we need to escape soon, lest we go blooming mad (or die, unfulfilled - a worse horror is unimaginable).

There has to be more to life, but to get to that calm interlude where everything is lucid and logical, is a tall order today.

Tomorrow, everything will seem to be better.

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Bah humbug

The talk with my boss went well-ish.
I went to bed early, entirely depressed from all the pain.

This morning, Sons#2 and #3 set off early, in the dark, to the eye doctor. My poor blind bat, Son#2. He needs to continue with the dreaded & despised eye patches for a while yet.

Meanwhile, domestic issues are calling me.
Perhaps it will even loosen up my back.
One can hope.


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Karma

A meeting with my boss.
I have a bad feeling about it.

I'm not planning on getting angry (although that would be perfectly justifiable).
Cool as a cucumber, that's what I'll be.
But to say that I'm not in the mood for this type of meeting, is the understatement of the year.
Sigh.

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Latest

A new week begins on a good note: no tumours in my system, no rogue glands.
The blood test results follow on Thursday.
We'll just have to wait and see.

Otherwise, I'm busy enough.
Monday, physiotherapy, Tuesday, a meeting with my boss.
On Wednesday, Son#2 is seeing the ophthalmologist and on Thursday I'm rockin' and rollin' to the internist.

Meanwhile, I'm ordering myself some oil paints with a gift voucher I got.
Not sure if my arms will cooperate and actually let me paint, but it seems a bit 'have suitcase, will travel'-ish to me.
Right?


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C'est Le Weekend: Testing, testing

Today, an afternoon of hospital tests.

I've been sleeping remarkably well, despite foregoing my daily melatonin-dose, and even despite the considerable pain that I've been experiencing.

Things can always be worse, and strangely, that's a comforting thought.

 

 

The boys are doing well-ish, except for Son#2 who got bitten and scratched by a crazy kid at school.

I complained to teacher, and I hope the problem has now been resolved.

Son#1 comes home from school with tests to study for and piles of homework, all due on the same day. 

Son#3's daycare teacher dropped off his favourite stuffed toy at 8 p.m. last night.

There are good people in this world.

 

My days are spent resting and cleaning up after the kids and adults.

I read, study minute amounts and cook dinners.

I like this restful period.

 

Next week an appointment with my boss awaits, which I'm not looking forward to, but I'll have to hold onto this calm of the moment, lest I fall into a deep, deep hole.

Nothing lasts forever.

Except grief, because the gods know that I miss my dad.

Everyday.

 

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State of the World

 

I wanted to pick up where I left off.

I'm back after last week and the murders in Paris.

Keep calm and carry on.

Where was I?

But there is a Muslim in my office!

DON'T SHOOT! I have a wife!

DON'T SHOOT!  We had an appointment for Wednesday at 12 o' clock!

 

He had been waiting since Wednesday.

Our mosques were threatened!  There was even a call to arms on Facebook by the PVV [ultra right-wingers] to burn the mosques!

Oh, now I know what it was all about.

You were scared.

 

How things can change in a few days' time!

Now I'm also scared!

Now everyone is scared!

HELP!

 

(Trouw, Tuesday 13 January 2015)

 

I don't understand how 'freedom of speech' equates 'freedom to insult', and why that is integral to democracy.

I'm not approving Islamic extremist action at all, but I can't approve of insulting an integral part of a large group's beliefs and very existence either. 

 

Not that my opinion matters.

I'm a nobody in the grand scheme of things.

 

But whether you fight with insults or swords, you're still fighting.

And as a group, what is the added benefit of that?

 

 

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Words to live by

The Great Now, infused in life.


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Aiuto mio

One of those days.
I'm tired of placating and soothing when I badly need some loving-kindness myself.

Luckily, there is plenty of loving from Sons 1 to 3, and I am regularly told that I am loved.
Love is all that matters, after all.


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Weekend Pursuits

We went to a brand, spanking new military museum in Soest.

Great stuff!

The boys had a roaringly good time, and truthfully, so did I.

Worth it, I promise.

Son#2 and I are going on a date today.

Just the two of us.

Lovely!

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Boxing gloves: check

I met up with a practical and wise friend in Breda this morning.

She gave me a helluva pep-talk:

No Yo, you're not dying.

And no Yo, you're not stuck in a work rut either:  you can just learn whatever you need to know (even improve my Dutch).

She's right.

No point in moping around and wallowing in worry.

All that looking back is pointless anyway.

The sun is shining beautifully outside.

It's crisp weather, but dry.

We heard birds twittering in the trees when we stopped at home.

Son#2 and I will have a date on Sunday.

He's very, very angry of late, and clingy too.

I can't drag his worries out of him.

We bought a Monopoly set yesterday and it's a helluvalotof fun playing with the boys.

Son#2 is in his get-angry-when-I-lose phase.

I remember it well from way- back-when with Son#1.

This too shall pass.

Everything does, you know.

 

 

C'est Le Weekend: What you leave with

A full blood test.
And not just sissy-sized vials, but actual bottles filled with your blood.
Urine.
I'll spare you the details.
Next Friday will be ultrasounds of abdomen and thorax, and chest x-rays.
You read words with question marks next to them:
'Lymphadenopathy'
and
'S.O.L.'
(Space-occupying lesions, better known as freakin' tumours).
Darn curiosity.
And darn Google.
Too much info sucks too.

But I go to bed with Son#1, who heard my snivveling in the shower tonight, and then gave me a back rub a la kid, put toothpaste on my toothbrush and sat smiling, waiting for me to finish.
I feel guilty, as I should.
Life, death and sorrows are part of life.
But so is gladness and felicity of spirit.
Grab onto that light stuff, Self.
And pass it on to three amazing boys.


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Waiting room needs love and attention

Another (in)hospita(b)l(e) waiting room.

They play nice music, offer free coffee and the receptionist is friendly.

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As per my mother's instructions

Limoncello.

Just one.

Burns all the way down, which is perfect on this sunny, 3 degree afternoon.

Tomorrow, internal medicine.
Today, I'll take my own yellow version.
Anytime!

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Might this be PMS?

Mmmmmm.

I do eat saturated fat though, and it's bloody delicious [with kids].

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C'est Le Weekend: Socialite of the Year

My colleague came by yesterday, after lots of hustle, bustle and fighting in the house all morning.

It was good seeing her, but she reiterated the fact that I should perhaps move on to another position.

She doesn't get the animosity either:  I am (apparently) well-liked by both colleagues and students.

Only management seems to hate my living guts.

When she left after 3 hours, I bawled my eyes out.

It's a sad and humiliating affair.

 

 

Nonetheless.

My head is high (and mighty) today.

There is no way out but through this muck and gore.

Buck up, Self.

It will all work out in the end.

 

I had a birthday party on Friday night at my friend Karen's house.

It was good.
The coming week has me seeing friends every day.

This is better than work.

There are hospital visits to test Son#2's eyes and for myself to see the new internal medicine man.

And I'd like to go back to my GP to ask her what I should do in terms of work.

 

But back to now, on Sunday morning.

The boys - and therefore, I - got up at 5h25.

There has already been many a fight.

We sleep too little and this adversely affects our moods and tempers.

Same old, same old.

I'm hoping we'll all still be alive at the end of the day.

 

 

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Affairs in order

Both the husband and I feel that there is something about to happen, and the need to prepare for this unforeseen circumstance is quite present.

Perhaps I'll drop dead?

We won't know until we get there, but I do know that I have to get my affairs in order.

It's a strange feeling.

 

Slowly but surely, we are sorting out clothing and crap. 

This weekend, the attic and my closets await.

I'd like to get started on the cellar too, but there is the very real prospect of large spiders and I'm not willing to go that far.

 

Meanwhile, tonight, I'm going to my friend Karen's birthday get-together, although I feel tired and feverish.

My colleagues from barf-barf work would like to meet up, which would be nice.

I'm just afraid that all this uncertainty regarding my health will make me cry and make people uncomfortable.

Sigh.

 

 

The husband and I had a long conversation last night about having a purpose to one's life.

I'm not sure it always has purpose.

Sometimes being alive is a purpose in itself.

We can't all be the Steve Jobses or Richard Bransons of the world, and one must seriously question if that is even what one would aspire to anyway.

 

Love is important to me.

Loving my family, being a good (enough) person.

Trying to be kind where I can.

I might never write best-sellers.

I might never paint another painting nor be an expert in my field.

But I'd like to be kind.

That should be sufficient.

There are many things that would be better to just let go.

 

 

 

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In this murderous world

 

Yesterday I was clever and tried to change the world.

Today I am wise and try to change myself.

 

 Rumi

Looks can be deceiving

The devil incarnate.

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Vile

After what was possibly the shortest night ever, the boys were sent to school anyway, yawning or not.
Son#2 and #3 were active in the night, culminating in me threatening Son#2's life if he should even think of starting to scream again.
Sigh.
I suck.

Son#1 has taken to making breakfast for himself and his brothers in the morning, and I let him, never mind the mess it leaves in the kitchen - it comes from a good place and with good intentions, and besides, it helps a lot.

But no sleep means a helluvalot more pain the next day, and it scratches the spirit and irritates the mind.
I.
Get.
Snappy.

Hum hum.
Breathe in, breathe out.


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Industrious

The boys have new rooms - a great improvement - and now what remains is the cleaning of the DIY aftermath.
Oh boy.
In my next life I'd like to be a Japanese monk, thankyouverymuch.

Meanwhile, the weather has been sunny, the boys went back to school (tiredness and chagrin abounding), and I'm trying to work around my increased pain levels whilst still getting things done.

I still have a 2 week reprieve from work (and hoping that it will be longer than that).
For the life of me, I cannot fathom going back.
Nonononono.
Deep, desperate sigh.

Just the now counts.
Today.
Nothing else.

C'est Le Weekend: We love them drugs

The GP was lovely and gave me pain medication.

It's not the big guns yet, but hopefully it'll give me some relief before I have to resort to heavy stuff.

Fibromyalgia is a bitch.

And, according to the GP, a category of illness that a physician will resort to when all else fails.

Mmmmmm.

 

 

The husband is painting the boys' rooms.

It's going to look great.

Son#1 stayed behind at the in-laws' again.

We're picking him up on Sunday when we go to my brother-in-law's birthday lunch.

Sons#2 and #3 are watching TV.

 

The sun is beaming outside, and most of the snow is gone.

I'm patiently waiting for my medicashun to kick in, hic.

Life could be a lot worse.

 

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Back to the drawing board

At the considerable risk of sounding like a downright bore, my fibromyalgia rung in the new year with a bang.

 

The husband and I polished off champagne, the boys woke up - Son#2 in a helluva bad-mooded funk - and we all squirreled off to bed at 1h30. 

This morning we are making oliebollen (a type of donut with raisins) and then going to the in-laws so my mother in law can look after the kids for a while, harhar.

 

 

Son#3 is moving in with Son#2 either tomorrow or Saturday, depending on our energy levels.

With #1 home again, Son#2 is back to his angered state, getting angry about nothing, being cheeky and despondent.

Poor sod.

Lest we forget, they are, all three of them, good kids.

 

Back to the new year, there is change in the air.

And a whole year ahead to decide how we will manage it.

 

 

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