Thanks for the support and input yesterday. I spoke with her teacher and we are all on the same page now. 'salina actually has a playdate this afternoon - I am collecting her and a friend from school for a few hours of imagination in our back yard. Unfortunately this girl is also leaving the school next week, but it will still be lots of fun.
Am starting to stress at the mountains of "to do" items and the hours available in the weeks until Easter. Every weekend seems to be already mapped, and I am doing "time and motion" studies in my head at all times.
Today I am meant to be doing a course, but I have been given a reprieve as some files I have been waiting on for a freelance assignment have just come through so will be doing a big work push. Cat gets shots at 1. I also have washing (Note to self: I must buy more school dresses) and my house is tapping on my shoulder wanting a bit of attention. I also have to slot in (and save myself from shifting everything to tomorrow) a call to TAFE about training courses and a visit to QR to organise a trip to Brisbane soon.
So I shall away now and get started...
I don't know how my mum got the link, but here is an absolutely gorgeous story. Enjoy.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Advice Requested
Any hints in approaching a teacher about the possible start of bullying?
My daughter has had a hard time fitting in to her school (new since July last year) for a variety of reasons, and I am moving towards sorting some of that hopefully - but it seems that at school the problem is starting to escalate.
I don't want to be overdramatic or overprotective, but I want my daughter to have a childhood that doesn't make her cry.
And your peers telling you to go away, don't want to play with you will make you sad. And kids in the class knocking down your lunchbox and jumping on your sandwiches will make you very sad.
And a sunny beautiful girl withdrawing and not wanting to interact with life makes Mummies very sad indeed.
So help please, before it gets out of hand? It appears that the school don't have a bullying policy - or at least one implemented (was in the letters to the editor page in the local rag - seems my child is not the only one).
I don't want to change schools again, because I truly don't believe in running away from problems. And I don't want to be that mother who is always making waves. But I want to do what I can for my little girl.
My daughter has had a hard time fitting in to her school (new since July last year) for a variety of reasons, and I am moving towards sorting some of that hopefully - but it seems that at school the problem is starting to escalate.
I don't want to be overdramatic or overprotective, but I want my daughter to have a childhood that doesn't make her cry.
And your peers telling you to go away, don't want to play with you will make you sad. And kids in the class knocking down your lunchbox and jumping on your sandwiches will make you very sad.
And a sunny beautiful girl withdrawing and not wanting to interact with life makes Mummies very sad indeed.
So help please, before it gets out of hand? It appears that the school don't have a bullying policy - or at least one implemented (was in the letters to the editor page in the local rag - seems my child is not the only one).
I don't want to change schools again, because I truly don't believe in running away from problems. And I don't want to be that mother who is always making waves. But I want to do what I can for my little girl.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
A day at the Gold Buckle
Now let me assure you, this would be a much better adventure story if I had remembered the camera - I promise, next time I go off to the bush for a real country experience, I shall.
As mentioned previously , my family has a long history with Campdrafting (and indeed, the Monto Gold Buckle has had my family's involvement since its inception) - and with the combined wants of seeing my immediate family (especially as it is last chance before my father goes in for re-kneeing next week); my daughter seeing lots of horses in one place and total immersion in a foreign culture that is my own, we decided we would do a day trip on Saturday.
It was originally intended that my beloved come along for a bit of a dip into my background - but due to many many drips from the sky in the last month, he has had to make use of blue sky opportunities and didn't make the long trip South this weekend, so it was just us girls.
We got on the road quite early and had quite a good trip across. If I ever get the opportunity to take a trip slowly, though, the Gin Gin-Mt Perry Road is one I wish to do - with a camera or a canvas - absolutely gorgeous, especially after a little rain. But as with the trip, I will have to rush the description - and I promise to take you along it one day.
When we arrived at Mum & Dad's, we got some sad news*, so we talked that through, refreshed (after a 3 hour drive - country roads = more than 1 hour allowed for 100km!) and headed downtown first.
Its funny when you come from a region but not really the local town - there are many faces you know from your youth but also many you have no idea about - and vica versa. I went into the local outfitters, where I have known the staff and owners since childhood - but yesterday it was only after I made the purchase I actually found someone I was not a stranger to.
You may think it strange to go to a small country town to get shoes, but my daughter had outgrown all her footwear last week (does that ever happen to you?) AND there are not many places you can get the value that you can there. Heilbronns even fill mail order from as far afield as WA!! (Got a plug in!)
We then went to the showgrounds - Welcome to Hat Town. My daughter was so excited - she kept recognizing people from a distance and I had to explain to her that that is the problem - you recognise the hats, but the people beneath are generally not who you expect - its best to try and take note of the shirt instead!!
The apparel is hat, shirt (and it doesn't matter whether you go plain, stripe, check or lair - so long as you wear it with a certain flair), jeans, boots and, if your status calls for it - a buckle. Before we get to the buckle, a note about the jeans - there are some fairly stylish pairs walking around, but the key to a good pair of jeans is the ability to be comfortable for the whole day AND the ability to hitch enough to get on a horse. Oh, and you have to earn your buckle - just make sure your pride doesn't get so big that it injures you!!
So many of the competitors travel with full teams and do a circuit these days - when my father was a boy, his own dad was accused of being "professional" (a very heinous crime in those days) as he took his string of 4 horses to the local campdrafts as he wandered Western Queensland looking for a property to buy. Today, there are strings of up to 14 horses and fullly equipped caravans so that the showgrounds was also a small town - and yes, as my daughter said, there was a pervasive odour of horse manure!!!
The first round I saw was Ben Hall, the renowned Northern Territory rider, and there were many from far afield as well as locals. A "local" (by virtue of marrying one of ours) pipped Ben in the final of the Open. I also got to see that girl (who I have known since I was a toddler) win the Ladies Draft (and another girl who I remember being born came second - all with different last names from my youth) - a very contentious event these days, as no longer are the Maiden, Novice and Open Drafts male only affairs.
The cattle put up a very good challenge. There is a "camp" of about 8 steers, where the rider has to "cut out" one (marks out of 26) and then the gates are opened and the aim is to take the beast clockwise around the first "peg" (a branch or sapling out and to the right in the arena - 1 point); anti-clockwise around the second (2 points) and through the "gate" (1 point) before the "bell" (1 minute from when you leave the camp). The judge will crack the whip for a variety of misdemeanours - turning tail in the camp, losing control of the beast, splitting a peg - but if you are not cracked off, will award "horsemanship" marks out of 60 - usually fairly stiffly. I still remember in my youth actually seeing a round of 94 - and it was a very exceptional round!
At the showgrounds in front of the pavillion is a sandpit under a few shady trees, so my time was alternated between watching many children playing and the drafting. My daughter was in her element - many younger cousins and their neighbours to corral into playing wild horses with her!!
The evening's entertainment was just getting under way when we polished off our dinners - several pigs were cooked on a spit, and served with buttered bread, corn, jacket potatoes, carrots, peas, apple sauce and gravy. I am not sure how that much set Mum back (she bought the meals), but I went and got 5 coffees and a slice of carrot cake after for $6 - and that slice of cake was enough for all of us!!!
I left at 8pm and did not see another car on the roads for the next 150km - despite part of that being on a hightway and through 2 towns - and got home in reasonable time for a phone call to my honey and zonk in bed by 11.
----
* Sad news: My sister's beloved Cosmo had died during the night. Cosmo (named for Kramer in Seinfeld) was their "firstborn" and a more adorable Great Dane could never be found. He was a puppy when my daughter was a baby and both were bundles of enthusiasm. The fact that he irreversibly catastrophised my sister's knee 6 years ago and has been forgiven for that breach of etiquette (and inability to negotiate changes in direction) is proof that this dog was very, very special and will be sorely missed and always have a place in many hearts. We all loved you, Cossie.
As mentioned previously , my family has a long history with Campdrafting (and indeed, the Monto Gold Buckle has had my family's involvement since its inception) - and with the combined wants of seeing my immediate family (especially as it is last chance before my father goes in for re-kneeing next week); my daughter seeing lots of horses in one place and total immersion in a foreign culture that is my own, we decided we would do a day trip on Saturday.
It was originally intended that my beloved come along for a bit of a dip into my background - but due to many many drips from the sky in the last month, he has had to make use of blue sky opportunities and didn't make the long trip South this weekend, so it was just us girls.
We got on the road quite early and had quite a good trip across. If I ever get the opportunity to take a trip slowly, though, the Gin Gin-Mt Perry Road is one I wish to do - with a camera or a canvas - absolutely gorgeous, especially after a little rain. But as with the trip, I will have to rush the description - and I promise to take you along it one day.
When we arrived at Mum & Dad's, we got some sad news*, so we talked that through, refreshed (after a 3 hour drive - country roads = more than 1 hour allowed for 100km!) and headed downtown first.
Its funny when you come from a region but not really the local town - there are many faces you know from your youth but also many you have no idea about - and vica versa. I went into the local outfitters, where I have known the staff and owners since childhood - but yesterday it was only after I made the purchase I actually found someone I was not a stranger to.
You may think it strange to go to a small country town to get shoes, but my daughter had outgrown all her footwear last week (does that ever happen to you?) AND there are not many places you can get the value that you can there. Heilbronns even fill mail order from as far afield as WA!! (Got a plug in!)
We then went to the showgrounds - Welcome to Hat Town. My daughter was so excited - she kept recognizing people from a distance and I had to explain to her that that is the problem - you recognise the hats, but the people beneath are generally not who you expect - its best to try and take note of the shirt instead!!
The apparel is hat, shirt (and it doesn't matter whether you go plain, stripe, check or lair - so long as you wear it with a certain flair), jeans, boots and, if your status calls for it - a buckle. Before we get to the buckle, a note about the jeans - there are some fairly stylish pairs walking around, but the key to a good pair of jeans is the ability to be comfortable for the whole day AND the ability to hitch enough to get on a horse. Oh, and you have to earn your buckle - just make sure your pride doesn't get so big that it injures you!!
So many of the competitors travel with full teams and do a circuit these days - when my father was a boy, his own dad was accused of being "professional" (a very heinous crime in those days) as he took his string of 4 horses to the local campdrafts as he wandered Western Queensland looking for a property to buy. Today, there are strings of up to 14 horses and fullly equipped caravans so that the showgrounds was also a small town - and yes, as my daughter said, there was a pervasive odour of horse manure!!!
The first round I saw was Ben Hall, the renowned Northern Territory rider, and there were many from far afield as well as locals. A "local" (by virtue of marrying one of ours) pipped Ben in the final of the Open. I also got to see that girl (who I have known since I was a toddler) win the Ladies Draft (and another girl who I remember being born came second - all with different last names from my youth) - a very contentious event these days, as no longer are the Maiden, Novice and Open Drafts male only affairs.
The cattle put up a very good challenge. There is a "camp" of about 8 steers, where the rider has to "cut out" one (marks out of 26) and then the gates are opened and the aim is to take the beast clockwise around the first "peg" (a branch or sapling out and to the right in the arena - 1 point); anti-clockwise around the second (2 points) and through the "gate" (1 point) before the "bell" (1 minute from when you leave the camp). The judge will crack the whip for a variety of misdemeanours - turning tail in the camp, losing control of the beast, splitting a peg - but if you are not cracked off, will award "horsemanship" marks out of 60 - usually fairly stiffly. I still remember in my youth actually seeing a round of 94 - and it was a very exceptional round!
At the showgrounds in front of the pavillion is a sandpit under a few shady trees, so my time was alternated between watching many children playing and the drafting. My daughter was in her element - many younger cousins and their neighbours to corral into playing wild horses with her!!
The evening's entertainment was just getting under way when we polished off our dinners - several pigs were cooked on a spit, and served with buttered bread, corn, jacket potatoes, carrots, peas, apple sauce and gravy. I am not sure how that much set Mum back (she bought the meals), but I went and got 5 coffees and a slice of carrot cake after for $6 - and that slice of cake was enough for all of us!!!
I left at 8pm and did not see another car on the roads for the next 150km - despite part of that being on a hightway and through 2 towns - and got home in reasonable time for a phone call to my honey and zonk in bed by 11.
----
* Sad news: My sister's beloved Cosmo had died during the night. Cosmo (named for Kramer in Seinfeld) was their "firstborn" and a more adorable Great Dane could never be found. He was a puppy when my daughter was a baby and both were bundles of enthusiasm. The fact that he irreversibly catastrophised my sister's knee 6 years ago and has been forgiven for that breach of etiquette (and inability to negotiate changes in direction) is proof that this dog was very, very special and will be sorely missed and always have a place in many hearts. We all loved you, Cossie.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Moja Mala Djevojčica
This is the title of a song I sing to my daughter every night. It is a Croatian children's song, and I think it says a lot about paternal attitudes and socialism, don't you?
I am quite sure I don't sing it exactly right, but the words are:
Moja mala djevojčica
Zdrava i puna veselje
Kao bundeva kostica
Tako i puna jelja
Tata kupi mi auto
bicicle i romobile
Kupi mi meduli seku
Kulica Jugo Vinil
Tata kupi kolaca
Bon bon i ja nerenje dve
I jednu mali nu bebu
Tata kupi mi sve
My darling child
Full of life and love and health and happiness
as a pumpkin seed says
Daddy buy me a car,
a bicycle and a scooter
Buy me a push pram
Like the one by Hugo Venille
Daddy buy me a cake
Some lollies and two oranges
But most of all Daddy
Buy me a baby
Daddy buy me everything
I don't sing it the way that her father's family sing the song, and as my three semesters of Hrvatski mean that I can only misunderstand the asides his family make to one another I probably have my wording, pronounciation and translation incorrect - but I persist and it is a nightly ritual.
When my long distance darling and I started spouting our ancestry, he scared me by admitting to a Yugoslav in the woodwork - but he is purebred moggy covering the Northern and Eastern parts of Europe - via USA - so my Northern English/Scottish/Irish/German/anyone else that invaded genes all settled.
I realised last night as I got off the phone from the Baka (Croatian for old woman - or grandmother) that I have actually had a longer relationship with P.'s extended family than I did with him. It is possibly (read definitely) only through the virtue of my daughter that I stuck it out with them in a lot of instances, and they sometimes confirm my closet belief that the former Yugoslavia would be an interesting study for psychologists.
But I am not sure if it is age that has mellowed us all, or if we are finally getting used to each other's ways.
Baka now uses every opportunity she has to tell me her latest medical dramas (note to television executives - if you want a screamingly funny and poignant idea for a script, I have one with an elderly ESL patient and the public health system) and the current intricacies of her family (which now include some of the Croatian based chapter as Grandpa and her talk again after 15 years - to gripe about their children, no doubt).
I could actually see Auntie S as a girlfriend at some points, she is great value and, while volatile and vitriolic when in full flight, tempered with tea can be very charming. And as she is the mother of Cousin B, extra good value for my daughter.
Okay, one of the brothers I could cheerfully send to Guatamala with a one-way ticket, as has been my position since our first introduction. Umm - at least he plays soccer with the kids...
And the other brother, when not too drunk (where he thinks he is the life and soul of the party and unfortunately tends to be the death knell) can be great fun too.
The Croatians have special words for the different types of relation you are to one another - an aunt who is a father's sister is different to an aunt who is a mother's sister is different to an aunt who is a parent's brother's wife. And I wonder what relation I am now to them?
Even though P. and I were never married, and there is no shorthand way of saying "my daughter's father's dysfunctional clutch", I think that in a way I actually have another branch to my own family tree. One that creaks a lot, no doubt!
And then I think of my sister's husband's family - and how, although I made no vows or promises at their wedding (just had to look slender and elegant and try not to be upstaged by 3 girls under 7 in the same dress as me) I am now "connected" to them all in tenuous ways.
My brother's wife's family too, I feel a certain degree of kinship with and have some "connection" and another branch.
I come from a large family - not large as in 27 children, but large as in there is oral history for at least 3 generations, and every offshoot of those generations is kept tabs on, pride for, despair with and a little bit of judgement from. My poor long distance darling even discovered he worked with a relation of mine (my father's cousin's son) - its a large state but thick with family ties!
I suppose there are several points I sort of thought about while writing this - what am I getting my long distance darling into, what extensions are his family so far away going to give to mine, and also a lot of love and support for several of the creaking branches who are going through really, really tough times right now.
Again with a post with no point - anyone want to wrap this one up for me more saliently?
I am quite sure I don't sing it exactly right, but the words are:
Moja mala djevojčica
Zdrava i puna veselje
Kao bundeva kostica
Tako i puna jelja
Tata kupi mi auto
bicicle i romobile
Kupi mi meduli seku
Kulica Jugo Vinil
Tata kupi kolaca
Bon bon i ja nerenje dve
I jednu mali nu bebu
Tata kupi mi sve
My darling child
Full of life and love and health and happiness
as a pumpkin seed says
Daddy buy me a car,
a bicycle and a scooter
Buy me a push pram
Like the one by Hugo Venille
Daddy buy me a cake
Some lollies and two oranges
But most of all Daddy
Buy me a baby
Daddy buy me everything
I don't sing it the way that her father's family sing the song, and as my three semesters of Hrvatski mean that I can only misunderstand the asides his family make to one another I probably have my wording, pronounciation and translation incorrect - but I persist and it is a nightly ritual.
When my long distance darling and I started spouting our ancestry, he scared me by admitting to a Yugoslav in the woodwork - but he is purebred moggy covering the Northern and Eastern parts of Europe - via USA - so my Northern English/Scottish/Irish/German/anyone else that invaded genes all settled.
I realised last night as I got off the phone from the Baka (Croatian for old woman - or grandmother) that I have actually had a longer relationship with P.'s extended family than I did with him. It is possibly (read definitely) only through the virtue of my daughter that I stuck it out with them in a lot of instances, and they sometimes confirm my closet belief that the former Yugoslavia would be an interesting study for psychologists.
But I am not sure if it is age that has mellowed us all, or if we are finally getting used to each other's ways.
Baka now uses every opportunity she has to tell me her latest medical dramas (note to television executives - if you want a screamingly funny and poignant idea for a script, I have one with an elderly ESL patient and the public health system) and the current intricacies of her family (which now include some of the Croatian based chapter as Grandpa and her talk again after 15 years - to gripe about their children, no doubt).
I could actually see Auntie S as a girlfriend at some points, she is great value and, while volatile and vitriolic when in full flight, tempered with tea can be very charming. And as she is the mother of Cousin B, extra good value for my daughter.
Okay, one of the brothers I could cheerfully send to Guatamala with a one-way ticket, as has been my position since our first introduction. Umm - at least he plays soccer with the kids...
And the other brother, when not too drunk (where he thinks he is the life and soul of the party and unfortunately tends to be the death knell) can be great fun too.
The Croatians have special words for the different types of relation you are to one another - an aunt who is a father's sister is different to an aunt who is a mother's sister is different to an aunt who is a parent's brother's wife. And I wonder what relation I am now to them?
Even though P. and I were never married, and there is no shorthand way of saying "my daughter's father's dysfunctional clutch", I think that in a way I actually have another branch to my own family tree. One that creaks a lot, no doubt!
And then I think of my sister's husband's family - and how, although I made no vows or promises at their wedding (just had to look slender and elegant and try not to be upstaged by 3 girls under 7 in the same dress as me) I am now "connected" to them all in tenuous ways.
My brother's wife's family too, I feel a certain degree of kinship with and have some "connection" and another branch.
I come from a large family - not large as in 27 children, but large as in there is oral history for at least 3 generations, and every offshoot of those generations is kept tabs on, pride for, despair with and a little bit of judgement from. My poor long distance darling even discovered he worked with a relation of mine (my father's cousin's son) - its a large state but thick with family ties!
I suppose there are several points I sort of thought about while writing this - what am I getting my long distance darling into, what extensions are his family so far away going to give to mine, and also a lot of love and support for several of the creaking branches who are going through really, really tough times right now.
Again with a post with no point - anyone want to wrap this one up for me more saliently?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Ha Ha Blooming Health Kicks
FPMSL here - or would be, if I wasn't as sick as a dog and stuff like that would make me throw up mere hours ago. The good news is - I am not throwing up any more (possibly due to the fact that I have no stomach contents and I think my bile duct has given all it had to offer); the bad news is that my contact with reality is sort of out of focus at the moment. So all insertions of pure lunacy are to be seen as normal, okay?
The worst thing about this is that yesterday, I was starting a health kick. I had received a few nasty migraines in the past week, and that combined with feeling quite unfit and wanting to get rid of a nasty habit or two made me all inspired and reach for the Leslie Kenton 10 Day Clean-Up Plan that I had scored at an op-shop about 10 years ago and always used as inspiration for the one day when I would try to get healthy.
So yesterday, it was on. The worst bit is, the first day is easy - just cut out carbs and caffeine (and anything else unhealthy) - which should be a piece of cake for me, as my caffeine load is limited anyway, carbs can be avoided by close perusal of the crisper and the anything else unhealthy gets tossed on a regular basis.
So I am fairly sure that my malaise yesterday was not related to any health kicks although it is a fairly easy target.
I had to do a course in the morning and was peachy. Got home to the effects of something starting but ate in an effort to thwart it, lay down a little when my head tried to tell me the something was growing, and then tried to blithely go on as if nothing was knocking on the connection between the spinal column and cranium for an hour (ha ha even did my 45 minute power walk)- when that knock became a pound, I lay down again to try and dissuade it as I had a parent-teacher meeting and both myself, my daughter and teacher are still trying to work each other out.
When the alarm went at 2.30 I thought I felt better. I got to school to discover I was wrong - but my timing is impeccable, waiting until the other 5 parents and teacher were assembled before bolting from the classroom and impressing the school cleaners downstairs with my almost forebearance, and giving them a glimpse of all the healthy food I had partaken.
We continued this pattern for the next 30 minutes - I would feel able to continue impressing the teacher, then I would not impress. The worst bit of it is that the teacher knew all of the other parents, as she had taught their children in Grade 1. I was the only unknown.
I got home, cancelled the moggy's vet appointment and lay in bed alternately groaning, sleeping and venting (isn't that a nice euphamism).
My 7 year old got to do whatever she darned well pleased - luckily she is a pretty good kid so that involved only about 8 changes of clothes and a few snacks. She almost jumped for joy when I said I would call a friend of mine to take her and feed her - she was ready and at the door waiting within 30 seconds - hmmm, she might be having 2nd thoughts about that nursing career she aspires to!
My wonderful friend Del came and collected her and her stuff for the day so that they could do a sleepover. My long distance darling fretted that he couldn't be here to take on that role (or even hold the hair out of my eyes). I just kept on alternating.
Last night was a very long night - I did actually manage to have a bath at about 8.30 and then collapse into bed, only to wake every 15 minutes or so.
Today, I could apply for the space cadets. Don't think I will embrace the fruit cleansing today, may reshelve Leslie until I am better able to embrace her again.
Maybe its just fate smiting me for trying to be cute and fit the detox across a weekend my sweetie and I won't spend together. I dunno.
Oh, and thank you for the comments on the last post, also. Both for the personal lift (people other than my immediate circle care enough to read my blathers) and for the psycho-social - I was cringing for a while after the schizophrenia post worrying if I had gone too far, because of the social stigma attached to the disease - and you guys pulled me back to what I was trying to say - thank you.
The worst thing about this is that yesterday, I was starting a health kick. I had received a few nasty migraines in the past week, and that combined with feeling quite unfit and wanting to get rid of a nasty habit or two made me all inspired and reach for the Leslie Kenton 10 Day Clean-Up Plan that I had scored at an op-shop about 10 years ago and always used as inspiration for the one day when I would try to get healthy.
So yesterday, it was on. The worst bit is, the first day is easy - just cut out carbs and caffeine (and anything else unhealthy) - which should be a piece of cake for me, as my caffeine load is limited anyway, carbs can be avoided by close perusal of the crisper and the anything else unhealthy gets tossed on a regular basis.
So I am fairly sure that my malaise yesterday was not related to any health kicks although it is a fairly easy target.
I had to do a course in the morning and was peachy. Got home to the effects of something starting but ate in an effort to thwart it, lay down a little when my head tried to tell me the something was growing, and then tried to blithely go on as if nothing was knocking on the connection between the spinal column and cranium for an hour (ha ha even did my 45 minute power walk)- when that knock became a pound, I lay down again to try and dissuade it as I had a parent-teacher meeting and both myself, my daughter and teacher are still trying to work each other out.
When the alarm went at 2.30 I thought I felt better. I got to school to discover I was wrong - but my timing is impeccable, waiting until the other 5 parents and teacher were assembled before bolting from the classroom and impressing the school cleaners downstairs with my almost forebearance, and giving them a glimpse of all the healthy food I had partaken.
We continued this pattern for the next 30 minutes - I would feel able to continue impressing the teacher, then I would not impress. The worst bit of it is that the teacher knew all of the other parents, as she had taught their children in Grade 1. I was the only unknown.
I got home, cancelled the moggy's vet appointment and lay in bed alternately groaning, sleeping and venting (isn't that a nice euphamism).
My 7 year old got to do whatever she darned well pleased - luckily she is a pretty good kid so that involved only about 8 changes of clothes and a few snacks. She almost jumped for joy when I said I would call a friend of mine to take her and feed her - she was ready and at the door waiting within 30 seconds - hmmm, she might be having 2nd thoughts about that nursing career she aspires to!
My wonderful friend Del came and collected her and her stuff for the day so that they could do a sleepover. My long distance darling fretted that he couldn't be here to take on that role (or even hold the hair out of my eyes). I just kept on alternating.
Last night was a very long night - I did actually manage to have a bath at about 8.30 and then collapse into bed, only to wake every 15 minutes or so.
Today, I could apply for the space cadets. Don't think I will embrace the fruit cleansing today, may reshelve Leslie until I am better able to embrace her again.
Maybe its just fate smiting me for trying to be cute and fit the detox across a weekend my sweetie and I won't spend together. I dunno.
Oh, and thank you for the comments on the last post, also. Both for the personal lift (people other than my immediate circle care enough to read my blathers) and for the psycho-social - I was cringing for a while after the schizophrenia post worrying if I had gone too far, because of the social stigma attached to the disease - and you guys pulled me back to what I was trying to say - thank you.
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