Help, I need somebody (or a million dollars)

Next week Friday, I have to see a labour specialist (and I say that lightly - it's a light-weight study).
This person will see what work I can do.
Never mind the company doctor, never mind all those physical and psychiatric tests that said I'm actually 100% sick.
Never mind all medical tests still running, immunologist visits and a rehab centre in my near future.
This person will sort it out (in favour of the university, who hired him/her).
Dutch labour law is a condescending misery.

I try to forget that this lies in wait like a tiger, but it's hard.
I so badly want for everything to be magically better - a lovely job, strong body, harmonious relationships.
This is a springboard to better things, I feel it.
I feel quite Pippi Longstocking-ly about it:

I'm losing weight again, a bit too fast. 
Son#3 who was sent home last week with the how manieth pair of wet pants, only went back to school now, so I could watch sad episodes this morning, of Dr Phil instead of Dora; Homes under the Hammer instead of Paw Patrol.
It felt good to waste time.
Luxurious.

I study when I can, and that's going well.
The husband is going to a fraternity weekend in Maastricht, and Son#1's friend Senna is coming for a sleep-over.
Taking it nice and easy.


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Tumultuous & Pondering

My friend's daughter is in hospital after an emergency appendectomy and peritonitis.

Go little Heidi!

Get better, poppet.
We're burning a candle for her.

We have organized the summer house exchange with a friendly family close to Torquay, in the UK.

My mother's plane ticket has been booked and paid for: she arrives on the 31st of March, and will stay until the end of May.

And for the first time in probably a decade, I haven't got an overdraft on my bank account.

Miracles are possible.

Meanwhile, my appetite has completely disappeared.

I eat because I feel faint, and certainly not hungry.

I've never experienced this before, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not.

I've dropped 3kg in 6 days, not surprisingly.

Son#3 is sitting next to me, singing Christmas carols.

Bless.

Tomorrow, a museum.

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Peace

Here's to loving starts of new seasons.

We had a quiet-ish night, waking Sons#1 and #2 for the Big Bang at midnight.

Sleep caught up with us finally, and the husband let me sleep to well after 10 this morning.

Everything has been cleared, the house is tidy and calm.

In a while, we're off to the in-laws' to wish them a healthy new year.

I have no resolutions to hold myself to, bar one:  A very John Travolta-ish Ah ah ah ah, Staying Alive, Staying Alive.

And the fervent wish that this applies to all my loved ones too.

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A last word for 2015

The husband is at work.

Son#1 is off with friends - we confiscated his bought-and-paid-for-himself tablet that he has been watching all sorts of shooting games/clips/whatnot with.

He turns into an aggressive fireball afterwards.

I worry about him and what he will turn out to be.

It has a strange Jedi/Dark Side-ring to it.

Will he choose to use this force in him to be good or choose bad things?

Lately, he blames us for his bad behaviour, which is bridge too blooming far.

Son#2 and #3 are happily at home.

#3 keeps taking off his clothes and licks his brother's food/snacks etc. before giving it to him.

Sigh.

I have a good case of PMS, of which I am convinced that the 'S' stands for Satan.

I attempted to make gluten-free oliebollen but, alas, it has flopped again.

I'll eat the flops regardless, although it truly isn't very tasty.

I tried to emulate Modigliani's Christina, but ended up giving it my own ring as my hands hurt and I kept buggering up the eyes.

Left hand now in a brace, aaaaaaaaah bliss.

 Practice, practice, practice.

Now, go on Miserable Year.

Bugger the bloody hell off.

On to new and better things.

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Night on the tiles

The husband took us out for a (gluten free) pizza.
Our kids were so well-behaved, bar Son#2 who screamed 'I have a willy infection!' quite loudly and repeatedly after having gone to the loo twice already.
Not sure what the other pizza patrons were thinking at that stage.
I dared not look over my shoulder.

But, the boys had a ball, playing tag under glowing trees wrapped with Christmas lights, zigzagging amongst pedestrians, and we let them run because when you're a kid and out at night, you should be doing just that.
A walk through the dark park back to the car.
The sheer thrill of it.
Home, pajamas and a bit of TV.

Tomorrow we'll bake Dutch oliebollen.
Chill the Champagne that's been lying in the cellar for more than a year, waiting for a celebration.
Be calm and kind.

Happy 2016, dear reader. 
Treat your time well.


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Summary

We are beset with stomach bugs.

Son#2 fell asleep on the couch - and if Mr Hiiiiigh Energy falls asleep while the sun is still out, you KNOW that he ain't feeling all that chipper.

My right arm and leg stopped working during the course of the afternoon, but functionality returned in time to cook supper which the kids ate with pulled faces.

Grateful?

Unsure.

We have candles and a dishwasher which isn't actually me, a new cupboard to stuff all our cluttered crap in, and a hot shower awaits me before I crawl into bed.

Two more days and this crappy year will close.

Thankful, I am.

New Year's will be a quiet affair - meaning I can go to bed at 8 as usual. 

Bliss.

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It's a family affair

The Christmas Season.

We did the food, hit a new playground in a small harbour nearby, then home again.

The husband made fire.

Son#1 (PUBERTY!) was given freedom to go deliver home-made Christmas cards to his friends.

Son#3 is a Duplo Genius and built his own (!) version of the Eiffel Tower.

Tomorrow, in the afternoon, we'll have drinks with friends in the village.

Wish my mum could be here with us!

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This beautiful life

Son#1's impulsive behaviour at school is a cause for concern, so it's back to parent-teacher meetings again.
Somehow (but this might be innate to motherhood?) I feel like we've screwed the kids up.
Our stress, our inability to roll with the punches, our lack of maturity and a confirmed lack of any wisdom whatsoever...
Deep sigh.
You think you've given it your best shot but that might not be enough to ensure that the kids will look back and love their childhoods.

Son#1 and I lay in bed watching Mr Bean DVDs last night, until he finally nodded off at 22h00.
A friend from high school lost her son to Cystic Fibrosis a fortnight ago - a beautiful, talented kid with eyes that laugh.
Count those blessings, Yo.


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Surprise, surprise

We are alive.

Still.

I have been referred to a rehab centre in Breda to get me up to (physical) scratch again.

Hopefully I'll walk out of there by summer, with bulging muscles and a chipper attitude.

Son#3 and I are at home alone today.

He keeps singing 'I am a lucky boy' to his own self-constructed tunes.

We survived the annual buy-a-christmas-tree-hell last night, parents and children semi-hysterical, but not as bad as last year's excursion.

The husband is close to losing his marbles, and is cutting back his work hours a bit in order to survive a while longer.

What can I say.

It's been a tough (couple of) year(s).

I have slowly started my Low Dose Naltrexone.

I'm only on 1mg per day - I need to increase this to 4,5mg over the next few months.

Tonight the husband and I are volunteering at the rugby club, working behind the bar where they don't serve alcohol (gasp!) during youth training nights.

We're all going to see Snoopy tomorrow at the movies - a first for the 5 of us.

Funfunfun

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With ease

I met up with an old friend - she is utterly intelligent and utterly pragmatic.
No faffing around with jumbled emotions. 
Just clarity and simplicity, and her message was clear:
You need to be happy.
You need to do things that make you happy.
Even amidst negative things, find something positive and focus on that.
Check.

In the morning, I'll go pick up my Low Dose Naltrexone (and may the gods thoroughly bless my GP for that).
I'm sending blood off to Germany to test for chronic Lyme's disease.
It will cost a fortune, I'm sure, but it seems like the next necessary step.
I don't want whatever-I-have to get even worse, thankyouverymuch.

The kids are calm, except for Son#1 who seems to break down in tears every (bloody) time I ask him to study for a test.
We're already starting to scout for a high school, which will be largely determined by where his 2 best friends are going.
The husband borders on a breakdown, but with a bit of humour and Port we might bash our way through it.
You think that in your 40s life will be smooth sailing, but it isn't, you know.
You question everything.

Be kind to yourself.


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