Just read the last post, omit the "won lotto" bit and add car bill - or three.
It seems when you fix the bit that made it stop at busy intersections, it allows the problem that makes it stop while you are driving along come to the fore.
And when you fix the bit that makes it stop while you are driving along, you find another bit that could be the cause, and another bit that could be a byproduct, and another bit that's just plain scary - apparently.
Me and cars - my ears glaze and my eyes roll dollar bill signs.
I have made the mechanic PROMISE that the bits being fixed would not end up costing more than the value of the vehicle. I have been down that particular road more than once, and it is incredibly painful.
I will find out the value of that word tomorrow.
Let us just say that castles in the air are currently being reviewed and rehoused in storage.
Or...
From a different perspective, had we not had the windfall, those castles would have been demolished because I would have had to mine my security blanket - so its all good.
We have health, we have sunshine (yay - third day of a heatwave in fact), we have enough food, we have shelter, we have fantastic family on both sides and we are blessed with many friends.
We even have enough work and therefore income for my little personal economic empire here to weather relatively rough weather and keep us afloat for a few months ahead.
While I don't have Pollyanna sitting on my shoulder, I do still count my blessings and come out well and truly more than breaking even.
And hey - maybe a sunny weekend ahead will tip the balance into Pollyanna being in my court again soon.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
That was the week that was...
This week started with rain - it is hardly surprising, really, as we have had 4 days of sunshine this year (okay, maybe I exaggerate - but no more than 5 since school went back in January).
It is a fitting background for the week.
This week was one of those weeks where you learn lessons.
I am still unsure as to the lesson I am meant to take away.
Help me...
This week started with rain - rain, and a windfall on Lotto. Not quite a "$20 million dollars" with appropriate echo noises and ridiculous people screaming, but enough of a windfall for us all to form dreams.
Well, actually, very much not even a windfall for full blown dreams that begin with "when we win lotto", and not even as much of a windfall as my boss one-upped me with when I mentioned the figure we were excited about, but hey - it beats the "woo hoo, we won $10" I yell when I forget to put lotto in.
Anyhoo, our bathroom requires some serious immediate attention. I don't know whether it is weather or not, but the tiles are leaving the walls at an alarmingly increasing rate; some water-based activity partaken within leaves puddle clues below - although not regular enough to go "way-hey, there is the problem" with any laserlike intensity; and a slow-drip (which has been rewashered on more than one occasion to the tunes of what sound like sea-shanties - at least in language levels) in the vanity has at last shown its true potential, and we have a cavity beneath our vanity that you could lose a small child in (if we were to ever let a small child wander in - we don't).
Our minds lit up with our windfall potential marrying with the bathroom concepts, and while the windfall = a very small percentage of what a proper bathroom renovation might entail, we began to actually forsee an improper bathroom renovation - or at least, the bones of one.
We have a list, we have a plan in our mind's eye, we have a purpose - and we have a seedling to grow into crossing "bathroom renovation" right off the list.
In the same breath (if the mind were to breathe - what time device should be used for the brain?), our minds also began to see other things that our windfall could achieve.
My sewing machine died last year. The bed is on its last legs. 'Salina is growing too fast. Paris is growing too fast. My workplace deserves to see me in a more varied wardrobe. With better shoes. V's vehicle's driver's door needs repairing. We need a holiday. Haircuts. Heck, we could even think about take-away...
It almost got too much to contemplate. Suddenly we were spending money in our minds far quicker than we could ever win it!!
Luckily at this point, fate stepped in with one spectacularly crappy Friday.
Paris was in a "I need to cling to the nearest parent and whimper" mood that can only accompany teething. Luckily for her (and me), I don't work on Friday mornings so we got to bond.
With such a sad situation, we didn't get to go and do our fortnightly Friday socialising with the local ABA - and nor did we get to do the alter-fortnightly Friday grocery shop en famille.
Instead, V was sent out into the pouring rain to gather the vittles.
Paris eventually succumbed to slumber (and good drugs) and I hooked into the mountain of paperwork that I imagine I can do on a Friday morning, and had 25 minutes of such entertainment when V arrived home with the goods, and the school called.
It seemed 'Salina had apparently fainted in the playground at morning tea, and now had a headache and they were sending her home if we could please come and collect. The phone call woke Paris.
So - clingy baby, sick older sister, soaking and half a kitchen of groceries, I kissed V goodbye so I could get to work.
Truthfully, I was not altogether unhappy to go to work. See above. That, and I had a few major tasks to accomplish while at work, so if I got in a half hour early, I would have plenty to fill the time. All I needed to do was grab lunch on the way there...
Now, last time I got (well, admitted to) junk food for lunch, I ended up an hour in the drive-through due to a stalled engine. Therefore, this time around I went to a competitor.
Since that last fateful time, the engine has stalled on one other occasion (amidst a lot of traffic at a busy intersection) but it has also been serviced.
Apparently not well enough, because this time the car stalled again in the drive-through. I have learned since the last two times, however, and managed to hold my mouth right to restart and get out of there (before requiring an RACQ man to come and have the engine start with no problem).
That is okay, I thought to myself, I can drop the car to the mechanic and still get to work in time. Therefore, I decided to eat the junkfood on the way there rather than do so in the lunchroom.
Mistake number 2.
Just before I got to the mechanics, I noticed the junkfood had left a long slick of red and yellow sauces on my white blouse.
Plan C was to duck into a shopping centre, get a new shirt, take the car to the mechanic and get to work. I could still do it in the timeframe.
That is without factoring in the next stall. Or the next one...
Eventually I did follow through with Plan C - although the timeframe was blown out of the water.
So, when we tell our grandchildren about the time we won lotto, we shall look fondly at one another and reminisce about all of the things we COULD have done - instead of what a good portion of it ended up covering, and my goodness, I have hidden the rest away in a very dark corner to hopefully procreate and seed the dream of the renovation.
Sometime.
On a positive note, Friday was the sixth (or was it seventh) dry day this year.
yay.
Today is Saturday. It rained again.
It is a fitting background for the week.
This week was one of those weeks where you learn lessons.
I am still unsure as to the lesson I am meant to take away.
Help me...
This week started with rain - rain, and a windfall on Lotto. Not quite a "$20 million dollars" with appropriate echo noises and ridiculous people screaming, but enough of a windfall for us all to form dreams.
Well, actually, very much not even a windfall for full blown dreams that begin with "when we win lotto", and not even as much of a windfall as my boss one-upped me with when I mentioned the figure we were excited about, but hey - it beats the "woo hoo, we won $10" I yell when I forget to put lotto in.
Anyhoo, our bathroom requires some serious immediate attention. I don't know whether it is weather or not, but the tiles are leaving the walls at an alarmingly increasing rate; some water-based activity partaken within leaves puddle clues below - although not regular enough to go "way-hey, there is the problem" with any laserlike intensity; and a slow-drip (which has been rewashered on more than one occasion to the tunes of what sound like sea-shanties - at least in language levels) in the vanity has at last shown its true potential, and we have a cavity beneath our vanity that you could lose a small child in (if we were to ever let a small child wander in - we don't).
Our minds lit up with our windfall potential marrying with the bathroom concepts, and while the windfall = a very small percentage of what a proper bathroom renovation might entail, we began to actually forsee an improper bathroom renovation - or at least, the bones of one.
We have a list, we have a plan in our mind's eye, we have a purpose - and we have a seedling to grow into crossing "bathroom renovation" right off the list.
In the same breath (if the mind were to breathe - what time device should be used for the brain?), our minds also began to see other things that our windfall could achieve.
My sewing machine died last year. The bed is on its last legs. 'Salina is growing too fast. Paris is growing too fast. My workplace deserves to see me in a more varied wardrobe. With better shoes. V's vehicle's driver's door needs repairing. We need a holiday. Haircuts. Heck, we could even think about take-away...
It almost got too much to contemplate. Suddenly we were spending money in our minds far quicker than we could ever win it!!
Luckily at this point, fate stepped in with one spectacularly crappy Friday.
Paris was in a "I need to cling to the nearest parent and whimper" mood that can only accompany teething. Luckily for her (and me), I don't work on Friday mornings so we got to bond.
With such a sad situation, we didn't get to go and do our fortnightly Friday socialising with the local ABA - and nor did we get to do the alter-fortnightly Friday grocery shop en famille.
Instead, V was sent out into the pouring rain to gather the vittles.
Paris eventually succumbed to slumber (and good drugs) and I hooked into the mountain of paperwork that I imagine I can do on a Friday morning, and had 25 minutes of such entertainment when V arrived home with the goods, and the school called.
It seemed 'Salina had apparently fainted in the playground at morning tea, and now had a headache and they were sending her home if we could please come and collect. The phone call woke Paris.
So - clingy baby, sick older sister, soaking and half a kitchen of groceries, I kissed V goodbye so I could get to work.
Truthfully, I was not altogether unhappy to go to work. See above. That, and I had a few major tasks to accomplish while at work, so if I got in a half hour early, I would have plenty to fill the time. All I needed to do was grab lunch on the way there...
Now, last time I got (well, admitted to) junk food for lunch, I ended up an hour in the drive-through due to a stalled engine. Therefore, this time around I went to a competitor.
Since that last fateful time, the engine has stalled on one other occasion (amidst a lot of traffic at a busy intersection) but it has also been serviced.
Apparently not well enough, because this time the car stalled again in the drive-through. I have learned since the last two times, however, and managed to hold my mouth right to restart and get out of there (before requiring an RACQ man to come and have the engine start with no problem).
That is okay, I thought to myself, I can drop the car to the mechanic and still get to work in time. Therefore, I decided to eat the junkfood on the way there rather than do so in the lunchroom.
Mistake number 2.
Just before I got to the mechanics, I noticed the junkfood had left a long slick of red and yellow sauces on my white blouse.
Plan C was to duck into a shopping centre, get a new shirt, take the car to the mechanic and get to work. I could still do it in the timeframe.
That is without factoring in the next stall. Or the next one...
Eventually I did follow through with Plan C - although the timeframe was blown out of the water.
So, when we tell our grandchildren about the time we won lotto, we shall look fondly at one another and reminisce about all of the things we COULD have done - instead of what a good portion of it ended up covering, and my goodness, I have hidden the rest away in a very dark corner to hopefully procreate and seed the dream of the renovation.
Sometime.
On a positive note, Friday was the sixth (or was it seventh) dry day this year.
yay.
Today is Saturday. It rained again.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Not so nearly any more
The toddler bit anyway - doing our best to hold back the teenage tide until last possible moment.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
(Nearly) Teenagers and (nearly) toddlers
When 'Salina was a baby, I met a woman who has been an extra-special friend to me ever since. At the time, she gave me a line I often quote.
THE DEFINITION OF HELL IS TEENAGERS AND TODDLERS IN THE SAME HOUSE
Obviously, I forgot this principle when going for the second-time-around motherhood lark, and while we aren't there yet, the threat is looming.
Right now, however, I still advise everyone I meet that the ideal age gap for siblings is 10 years.
When 'Salina first met V, she asked "are you going to marry my mum and give me a baby sister? I think her name should be Ella."
Fairly confronting to a new boyfriend, hey?
Anyhow, after a few years, a wedding and a settling in where V and she developed a great relationship, her question lay idle.
When we finally did get the wheels in motion for such a possibility, 'Salina was very non-plussed. She had grown used to having two adults orbiting her star, and the potentiate of a new baby sister (or brother) was not to be contemplated. "Stop talking about it" she requested during gestation.
Her holdout lasted about 0 seconds once she laid eyes on Paris.
Every time Paris lays eyes on her big sister, she yells out in delight and waves hands and blows kisses. School mornings are not complete without a traditional front door vigil while 'Salina waits for the bus, the afternoons are a great reunion of long lost friends.
And while 'Salina lives in this limbo of not-quite child, not-yet adolescent, she is delighting in her little sister and her development. She is the first to hold her hand out to help her walk. They talk and play and laugh together - and we don't take enough photos of the joy.
We occasionally see clouds of impending teenagehood - and while we know it is unavoidable, we also know how truly terrible we were as teenagers - and hope to goodness 'Salina is not that bad.
We also get glimpses of the dawning of terrible toddlerdom - and I have memories of where 'Salina frayed during her first coming of age.
But right now - right now, we are nowhere near the hell that could be imagined, and we are very, very glad.
THE DEFINITION OF HELL IS TEENAGERS AND TODDLERS IN THE SAME HOUSE
Obviously, I forgot this principle when going for the second-time-around motherhood lark, and while we aren't there yet, the threat is looming.
Right now, however, I still advise everyone I meet that the ideal age gap for siblings is 10 years.
When 'Salina first met V, she asked "are you going to marry my mum and give me a baby sister? I think her name should be Ella."
Fairly confronting to a new boyfriend, hey?
Anyhow, after a few years, a wedding and a settling in where V and she developed a great relationship, her question lay idle.
When we finally did get the wheels in motion for such a possibility, 'Salina was very non-plussed. She had grown used to having two adults orbiting her star, and the potentiate of a new baby sister (or brother) was not to be contemplated. "Stop talking about it" she requested during gestation.
Her holdout lasted about 0 seconds once she laid eyes on Paris.
Every time Paris lays eyes on her big sister, she yells out in delight and waves hands and blows kisses. School mornings are not complete without a traditional front door vigil while 'Salina waits for the bus, the afternoons are a great reunion of long lost friends.
And while 'Salina lives in this limbo of not-quite child, not-yet adolescent, she is delighting in her little sister and her development. She is the first to hold her hand out to help her walk. They talk and play and laugh together - and we don't take enough photos of the joy.
We occasionally see clouds of impending teenagehood - and while we know it is unavoidable, we also know how truly terrible we were as teenagers - and hope to goodness 'Salina is not that bad.
We also get glimpses of the dawning of terrible toddlerdom - and I have memories of where 'Salina frayed during her first coming of age.
But right now - right now, we are nowhere near the hell that could be imagined, and we are very, very glad.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
The Ides of February
Unfortunately this is another post with no pictures.
Or rather, fortunately, this is another post with no pictures.
You see, it all began like this...
Two weeks ago, Paris did not go to Childcare because - well, I have attempted several times to say it nicely, but there aren't many ways to say "she was a snotty nosed kid".
She only (theoretically) goes two days a week, which is V's two days to get some more study under his belt.
I say theoretically, because by being well enough to go to Childcare last week, she was set to bring her attendance rate up to about 50% for the year.
We (especially V) did a little jig last week when she was well enough to attend. Especially V, because he is at crunch time for his study.
Last Wednesday, I went to collect Paris after work. I don't often get this privelege - it is a task that V and 'Salina tend to bags, mainly because I get home late and they are fretting.
However, due to homework and assignments and me getting an early(ish) card, I got the guernsey.
When I got into her room, she was resting and didn't notice me. Her clothes had been changed, and when I grabbed her bag I saw her old clothes were covered in something yellow. She then noticed me and burst into tears, pleading "bap! bap!" (my sole purpose in her life on occasion, I think) so she and I made a fast getaway.
That evening, we noticed that she looked a little sunburned.
The next day we were sure she had been burned a little by the sun, as it only appeared on her arms from where a t-shirt would have covered down, plus a little at the neckline.
The next evening, we changed our home diagnosis to perhaps being wiped down with something she reacted to, as the "sunburn" was getting a little splotchy.
By Friday, I was worried enough to make a doctor's appointment and call the centre for some background on what may have set off an allergic reaction. I was advised that yellow jelly had been the substance on her clothes, and she had been wiped down with wipes. They also mentioned another child had come down with a rash and was going to the doctor as it looked viral.
The doctor advised that the rash wasn't acting like any viral rash (only on arms, top of one leg and the front of the neck) and it was most likely an allergy.
When I told her I was going to my sister's on the weekend, she told me to have fun, don't worry, and the rash should go away.
Saturday, the rash hadn't gone away but it wasn't bothering her and my sister had a Jeanie-shaped hole in her book-keeping.
My sister reminded me that she was allergic to Dettol and had reacted so badly she ended up blistered - and 'lo, it was true that Paris' spots were starting to blister.
By Sunday evening when we arrived back home, the spots were all turning to blisters, and the clear skin on her legs and lower back were turning to spots, and I thought it might be prudent for another visit to the good doctor and a call to the childcare centre for more indepth information about the wipes.
It appears the wipes were a new brand they didn't regularly use - and as we only use fragrance-free ones or chux it was a possibility.
The doctor mentioned words like "mystery" and called in her colleague, who agreed he had never seen anything quite like it.
On our way to get blood tests and swabs, I rang the childcare centre again to tell them there may be a mystery virus and enquire what the other child was diagnosed with - to be told that TWO children had diagnosed rashes in that room - one with Chickenpox, one with Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. Nice.
So another phone call to my sister to tell her I have potentially exposed her and her family to highly contagious viruses. Yay.
Have I mentioned how loud and piercing Paris' yell can be? Try that in an echo chamber of a pathology room with two women, a large needle and some vials.
Yesterday, the blisters all turned to scabs, the spots all turned to blisters - and other than the discomfort of trying to crawl on blistered knees, she was fairly fine.
Today we went back to the doctor for diagnosis.
We didn't get one.
We DO know she doesn't have Chickenpox OR Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease.
We DO know that she has had an allergic reaction at some point recently.
However - there could still be a virus as this rash isn't a typical allergy rash - but it isn't a typical viral rash either, so we are where we were...
The good news is that Paris is still fairly fine.
Or rather, fortunately, this is another post with no pictures.
You see, it all began like this...
Two weeks ago, Paris did not go to Childcare because - well, I have attempted several times to say it nicely, but there aren't many ways to say "she was a snotty nosed kid".
She only (theoretically) goes two days a week, which is V's two days to get some more study under his belt.
I say theoretically, because by being well enough to go to Childcare last week, she was set to bring her attendance rate up to about 50% for the year.
We (especially V) did a little jig last week when she was well enough to attend. Especially V, because he is at crunch time for his study.
Last Wednesday, I went to collect Paris after work. I don't often get this privelege - it is a task that V and 'Salina tend to bags, mainly because I get home late and they are fretting.
However, due to homework and assignments and me getting an early(ish) card, I got the guernsey.
When I got into her room, she was resting and didn't notice me. Her clothes had been changed, and when I grabbed her bag I saw her old clothes were covered in something yellow. She then noticed me and burst into tears, pleading "bap! bap!" (my sole purpose in her life on occasion, I think) so she and I made a fast getaway.
That evening, we noticed that she looked a little sunburned.
The next day we were sure she had been burned a little by the sun, as it only appeared on her arms from where a t-shirt would have covered down, plus a little at the neckline.
The next evening, we changed our home diagnosis to perhaps being wiped down with something she reacted to, as the "sunburn" was getting a little splotchy.
By Friday, I was worried enough to make a doctor's appointment and call the centre for some background on what may have set off an allergic reaction. I was advised that yellow jelly had been the substance on her clothes, and she had been wiped down with wipes. They also mentioned another child had come down with a rash and was going to the doctor as it looked viral.
The doctor advised that the rash wasn't acting like any viral rash (only on arms, top of one leg and the front of the neck) and it was most likely an allergy.
When I told her I was going to my sister's on the weekend, she told me to have fun, don't worry, and the rash should go away.
Saturday, the rash hadn't gone away but it wasn't bothering her and my sister had a Jeanie-shaped hole in her book-keeping.
My sister reminded me that she was allergic to Dettol and had reacted so badly she ended up blistered - and 'lo, it was true that Paris' spots were starting to blister.
By Sunday evening when we arrived back home, the spots were all turning to blisters, and the clear skin on her legs and lower back were turning to spots, and I thought it might be prudent for another visit to the good doctor and a call to the childcare centre for more indepth information about the wipes.
It appears the wipes were a new brand they didn't regularly use - and as we only use fragrance-free ones or chux it was a possibility.
The doctor mentioned words like "mystery" and called in her colleague, who agreed he had never seen anything quite like it.
On our way to get blood tests and swabs, I rang the childcare centre again to tell them there may be a mystery virus and enquire what the other child was diagnosed with - to be told that TWO children had diagnosed rashes in that room - one with Chickenpox, one with Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. Nice.
So another phone call to my sister to tell her I have potentially exposed her and her family to highly contagious viruses. Yay.
Have I mentioned how loud and piercing Paris' yell can be? Try that in an echo chamber of a pathology room with two women, a large needle and some vials.
Yesterday, the blisters all turned to scabs, the spots all turned to blisters - and other than the discomfort of trying to crawl on blistered knees, she was fairly fine.
Today we went back to the doctor for diagnosis.
We didn't get one.
We DO know she doesn't have Chickenpox OR Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease.
We DO know that she has had an allergic reaction at some point recently.
However - there could still be a virus as this rash isn't a typical allergy rash - but it isn't a typical viral rash either, so we are where we were...
The good news is that Paris is still fairly fine.
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