For Roos

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C'est Le Weekend: The long road ahead

Son#3 had a try-out morning at school.
It went smoothly and without tears, as it usually does with Son#3, his bright blue enormous school bag on his back.
We live in the land of firsts.
Before picking him up, I watched him playing on a red tricycle, happy as a lark.
But going home, the taxing nature of a first day in the big world showed clearly. 

Home, we ate gold-wrapped Easter eggs, croissants with cheese.
I would like to go celebrate this milestone, but my 39 degree fever is a pain in the butt.
I sit, shivering, on the couch, wrapped in blankets.
We have coffee in the house, dinner for tonight.
The sun pokes-pokes through the clouds from time to time.
All good things.


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C'est Le Weekend: Eclipse

Son#3 and I started the morning with Monopoly (he calls it Holy Poly).
Next week, he'll have a practice day at the primary school. 
Both he and I will miss each other.

There is a supposed solar eclipse this morning, but that in itself has been eclipsed  by thick fog.
I deflected a colleague's visit this afternoon, not wanting to be reminded of work's existence.
A quiet weekend awaits.
It's been a tough week.


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Rest in Peace, Poppet

 

A cousin's young daughter passed away tonight, just 3 months old.

This is not the first time my cousin and his wife have lost a child:  they've had to bury twins too.

Like my mother says:  Life has become more and more incomprehensible.

 

Heartbreak.

 

 

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Clay

Just Sons#2 and #3.

Son#1 is so too cool for the clay-play school, bless.

In our stars this weekend: rugby, practising maths, and hugging/praising/kissing.

No more, no less.

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Holy

A minor trip to my GP turned into a mini foot operation to clear an infection.
I have been hobbling along.
Pain is a snake though, and the added discomfort has turned me into a spitting cobra.
The boys don't help: they fight without cease, jump on couches and beds, run through the house and leave piles of messes everywhere.
Son#2 is combustantly explosive.
It's time for the husband to come home, so I can take a breather but also to restore this imbalance his absence has left us with.

All the while I see how I lack my mother's backbone.
She just gets on with it whereas I dream of quick getaway cars and a life in a hermit's hovel tucked into the forest's floor.
Dreaming life away has its place but so does being present.
I never slow down but instead think a hundred steps ahead, which invariably won't add any damn serenity to life.
It's a complicated existence.


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The Universe is a big place

And somewhere, the 'what the hell is wrong with me'-question will be answered.
Nothing lasts forever.
That includes uncertainty.

The husband has gone to Aruba ('..Jamaica, ooooh I wanna take ya...').
Meanwhile in the windy Nether Lands where the sun beamed on us today with 12 degrees, my 3 boys and I made a Christmas bed: there are 3 kids sleeping on matrasses in our room.

I've been hormonally stressed and short-tempered.
Son#1 told me that he didn't get why I am nice one minute and nasty the next.
Poor sod.
I get large-eyed looks aside when they drop food on the table during dinner, their raging mother looking on disapprovingly.
Snap out of it, Self.

Tomorrow I'm getting a sonar of my hands and feet.
So far, I have possible celiac disease, a lowish cortisol level and an hourglass-shaped stomach.
Just in time for summer, haha.
Pain is insiduous though: it makes me want to cocoon and roar LEAVE ME ALONE.
Because if there's nothing nice to say, one should shut the bloody hell up.
Right?

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