random stuff
There's never time to update more frequently, and I have no idea why. Time just flies by and I feel like I've accomplished nothing, but it continues to fly by and I continue to wonder what in heck I did with the day that I couldn't even type a quick "we did this and that, the end", much less some deep and meaningful insights into my life.
I'm going to take this time though, as a nice break from all the internet searching I'm doing to find SOMETHING to do with the Vietnam vets I'm going to be aqua training each Wednesday for an hour for the rest of the year on a contract that may be renewable for I don't know how long. I also don't know what in fuck I'm supposed to be doing with this bunch. It's through some Active aging or what not thingo, some government grant so contracts and shit are involved. Also, a lot of crossing my heart and hoping to (NOT) die, and the odd secret handshake. Anyway, the not knowing dealio: I know how to teach aqua, what with all da kwalifikashuns I have, but this pool sucks the almighty suck, it being only waist deep at one end, and and as deep as the ocean at the other. So, I'm going to mostly wing it until I get an idea of what these guys are capable of, providing that haven't killed any of them off by the time I've worked out the pool situation.
I'd also better call this Linda somethingorother because my insurance ran out on the first and I've not got my confirmation of renewal yet (probably because I sent the cheque last night)(what?) so am, for all in in tents and porpoises, uninsured. Tra la! My guess is that I won't be teaching this Wednesday, and I'm such an idiot that I'M SO GLAD! Seriously, I love what I do but I always dread doing it. What the fuck is that all about?
Anyway, I've got a few lists done of alternatives to what I'd be doing in a pool that wasn't retarded, and even though I have NO experience with shallow pools and NO experience with noodles (WHAT?!)(oh relax, they're flotation devices made of foam that are long and narrow and kind of, not really but anyway, noodle shaped), I'm sure to come up with SOMETHING on the day. If only a case of the Do Not Come Backs.
Now, last weekend. It blew. Literally, and there's not much one (okay, maybe just me) can do with a toddler when the weather is so cold and blowy. I was supposed to take the little prince to my brother and sister in law's on Sunday morning but I thought, fuck that noise. If they want to see him, they can call me and come here. Or at least call me. I don't know what it is but I (it totally blows that I can't capitalise that I anymore than it already is, for even more emphasis) have to call THEM when they want to see el kiddo. I think it's rather egocentric and as I'm in an angry phase of my life (aibee's shrink, sometime last friday: "why are you so angry?" aibee: *pulls out a list so long it runs out the door and down the hall* aibee's shrink's head explodes ) they can suck it.
So no brother/sil visits, and we didn't even get to the gym on Saturday morning because while I can squat nearly my own body weight, and can dead lift at least half of it, apparently I can't move my son's slumbering weigh in bed without hurting my back, which I did last Friday night. GOD. Even though it didn't happen in the gym, I know it's from overtraining because bla bla bla, which only makes it more annoying because I knew I was training too hard but I loved it so I kept on doing it.
POINT BEING, last weekend we did.....nothing, which, HATE.
Then Monday we did more of the same and didn't even go for a walk even though the weather was milder and less likely to launch us into space.
The good news is that between now and then, his pah toh has been addressed and I've not seen the screaming banshee that had replaced my son. Daycare say he's still a little loaded gun vis a vis his teeth and punching skilz, but all he's been with me is an absolute delight to spend time with. In the time between Friday to Tuesday, which is the longest stretch of time that Daniel isn't in care, we seem to get in synch with each other and are both more relaxed than any other time of the week, him because he starts to accept that life isn't all about entertainment officers structuring his day, and me despite hitting myself over the head the entire time for not organising more structured activities for him like the zoo, museum, beach, playdates and wotnot.
Seems I'm not happy unless I'm being unhappy with myself.
The other centre director spoke with me at length yesterday too, and pretty much talked me down from last week's proverbial ledge. She even heard me handle Daniel's timely yet screamy outburst while we were mid conversation. Seems I was too slow with serving his morning fruit snack while juggling the phone, the spoon and a fruit container thingy. Daniel was all "AAAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHH", with teeth, and I was all "god, she's going to think I do SUCH a bad job handling the gaping maw with associated yelly bits", and she was all "the way you related to him then? Is PERFECT".
We've got two second birthday birthday parties (oddly enough, that makes sense) to go to this weekend, which will be nice. They're the babies from our original mothers' group, and while I've not seen them since that barrage of surgery started earlier this year, we're still a group. A couple or three of the women have already had baby #2, while another is now 30 weeks pregnant, a fact I found out about yesterday, and a fact which got me on the whole "where does the time GO?" bandwagon BIGTIME. Last time I saw PregnantWoman #4, she wasn't even thinking about another, and here she is, all swollen ankles and big enough to quite literally berth.
Another girlfriend of mine is seven weeks pregnant with her second too. She's much younger than me. Twenty three or four or five or thereabouts. We used to work together at The Crappiest Gym In Town, and she found out she'd been knocked up with her now nine month old after only going out with the guy for like, a month. They've ended up in love and are getting married and my god, it's SO romantic, especially since they conceived after getting down and dirty on their first date. They met because her fiance was one of the construction guys redoing the crappy old mall she worked in, and he used to gaze at her gorgeous face and ask her out all the time, They finally went out when she broke up with her alcoholic, abusive ex boyfriend (which she used to do on a weekly basis, actually) and said yes to his daily invitation.
Point being, fairy tales do happen. She was in that really abusive relationship for YEARS before she met (and slept with!) this guy and there it is. A family already made and now growing. Bliss.
The other point being, I'm insanely jealous of all these fertile, paired off chicks.
But not insane enough to hate them and/or want to actually do something rash like cohabitate. In theory, yes, it does sound attractive because of the Moving Furniture, Squashing Spiders deal that men bring along with them, but in practice? I don't think there's enough furniture being shifted or spiders being obliterated to make up for all that questionable hair left on the soap.
Speaking of second babies though, I went along to my appointment with the reproductive team last week. Thursday it was, and you know how I crowed that over the course of thirty one days, my ovaries tick along on a razor sharp schedule? Yeah, well, my period came on the Tuesday, exactly twenty eight days after the last one, which, yes, cool and kind of textbook, EXCEPT, had my period arrived on schedule or even a day or two early, I'd be starting treatment now to do my IVF cycle next month. BUT, as my ovaries are a pair of impatient fools, and because the unit closes over Christmas, I have to wait until at least January.
At. Least. January.
Did you catch that?
Two more months to wait.
GOD.
So I think about things happening for a reason, and bigger pictures, and bla bla bla, and then I thank the universe for the extra three ovulations I have, conceivably (haHA) at least, to utilise.
Which is the best way I know to manage my disappointment. To accept and trust. Even if I do sound like a hairy legged (which I assure you, I am not) hippy when I say it.
Meanwhile, Daniel has taken his little self away and is sitting on my bed with a specimen jar, taking the lid off and putting it back on again and essentially raising himself.
Wolves would do a better job that me.
I've been trying to list some items on ebay this week too, but only got to list three items yesterday afternoon despite putting the afternoon aside to do a fuckload of it. It turned out to be the day that a billion other things happened, so I was left with frantically churning out three ill written auctions late in the day, and relisting some of the unsold ones from over a month ago.
Which is SO not enough because, what with the surgery and its monetary fallout and all the other financial repercussions of getting my face rearranged (in a word, BANDS, which I've not written about yet but which can also be summarised in one word: HATE), and with Daniel's birthday plus party coming up, and then Christmas after that, I've got to do something to at least feel like I'm not going under.
Daniel and I went to the gym this morning too. Me to remind myself that my back still hurts, him to get some entertainment in the creche for a half hour or so (an aside: workouts shouldn't generally take only a half hour, it's just that I never have time to do more than squeeze that time in before the creche closes)
My back doesn't hurt, not really ( no shit, the bowen therapy I had years ago that inspired me to become a therapist myself was the start of my body being able to say "uh, dude? that part of your back is quite flucked, but as long as you know it is, I'm not gonna make it hurt, okie?" to which I say "Yuh, I'm cool wid dat". So it not so much hurts as I know some serious weird ass shite is going on with the big muscles back there, Then of course, as soon as one thing is out, the rest follows so I'm now getting trouble with my jaw, neck, shoulders, right hip, and down the right leg. None of it pain, all of it knowing I'm less that stellar at present and need to rebalance. Which I am doing tomorrow afternoon.
And I think that about wraps up the week.
I'm going to take this time though, as a nice break from all the internet searching I'm doing to find SOMETHING to do with the Vietnam vets I'm going to be aqua training each Wednesday for an hour for the rest of the year on a contract that may be renewable for I don't know how long. I also don't know what in fuck I'm supposed to be doing with this bunch. It's through some Active aging or what not thingo, some government grant so contracts and shit are involved. Also, a lot of crossing my heart and hoping to (NOT) die, and the odd secret handshake. Anyway, the not knowing dealio: I know how to teach aqua, what with all da kwalifikashuns I have, but this pool sucks the almighty suck, it being only waist deep at one end, and and as deep as the ocean at the other. So, I'm going to mostly wing it until I get an idea of what these guys are capable of, providing that haven't killed any of them off by the time I've worked out the pool situation.
I'd also better call this Linda somethingorother because my insurance ran out on the first and I've not got my confirmation of renewal yet (probably because I sent the cheque last night)(what?) so am, for all in in tents and porpoises, uninsured. Tra la! My guess is that I won't be teaching this Wednesday, and I'm such an idiot that I'M SO GLAD! Seriously, I love what I do but I always dread doing it. What the fuck is that all about?
Anyway, I've got a few lists done of alternatives to what I'd be doing in a pool that wasn't retarded, and even though I have NO experience with shallow pools and NO experience with noodles (WHAT?!)(oh relax, they're flotation devices made of foam that are long and narrow and kind of, not really but anyway, noodle shaped), I'm sure to come up with SOMETHING on the day. If only a case of the Do Not Come Backs.
Now, last weekend. It blew. Literally, and there's not much one (okay, maybe just me) can do with a toddler when the weather is so cold and blowy. I was supposed to take the little prince to my brother and sister in law's on Sunday morning but I thought, fuck that noise. If they want to see him, they can call me and come here. Or at least call me. I don't know what it is but I (it totally blows that I can't capitalise that I anymore than it already is, for even more emphasis) have to call THEM when they want to see el kiddo. I think it's rather egocentric and as I'm in an angry phase of my life (aibee's shrink, sometime last friday: "why are you so angry?" aibee: *pulls out a list so long it runs out the door and down the hall* aibee's shrink's head explodes ) they can suck it.
So no brother/sil visits, and we didn't even get to the gym on Saturday morning because while I can squat nearly my own body weight, and can dead lift at least half of it, apparently I can't move my son's slumbering weigh in bed without hurting my back, which I did last Friday night. GOD. Even though it didn't happen in the gym, I know it's from overtraining because bla bla bla, which only makes it more annoying because I knew I was training too hard but I loved it so I kept on doing it.
POINT BEING, last weekend we did.....nothing, which, HATE.
Then Monday we did more of the same and didn't even go for a walk even though the weather was milder and less likely to launch us into space.
The good news is that between now and then, his pah toh has been addressed and I've not seen the screaming banshee that had replaced my son. Daycare say he's still a little loaded gun vis a vis his teeth and punching skilz, but all he's been with me is an absolute delight to spend time with. In the time between Friday to Tuesday, which is the longest stretch of time that Daniel isn't in care, we seem to get in synch with each other and are both more relaxed than any other time of the week, him because he starts to accept that life isn't all about entertainment officers structuring his day, and me despite hitting myself over the head the entire time for not organising more structured activities for him like the zoo, museum, beach, playdates and wotnot.
Seems I'm not happy unless I'm being unhappy with myself.
The other centre director spoke with me at length yesterday too, and pretty much talked me down from last week's proverbial ledge. She even heard me handle Daniel's timely yet screamy outburst while we were mid conversation. Seems I was too slow with serving his morning fruit snack while juggling the phone, the spoon and a fruit container thingy. Daniel was all "AAAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHH", with teeth, and I was all "god, she's going to think I do SUCH a bad job handling the gaping maw with associated yelly bits", and she was all "the way you related to him then? Is PERFECT".
We've got two second birthday birthday parties (oddly enough, that makes sense) to go to this weekend, which will be nice. They're the babies from our original mothers' group, and while I've not seen them since that barrage of surgery started earlier this year, we're still a group. A couple or three of the women have already had baby #2, while another is now 30 weeks pregnant, a fact I found out about yesterday, and a fact which got me on the whole "where does the time GO?" bandwagon BIGTIME. Last time I saw PregnantWoman #4, she wasn't even thinking about another, and here she is, all swollen ankles and big enough to quite literally berth.
Another girlfriend of mine is seven weeks pregnant with her second too. She's much younger than me. Twenty three or four or five or thereabouts. We used to work together at The Crappiest Gym In Town, and she found out she'd been knocked up with her now nine month old after only going out with the guy for like, a month. They've ended up in love and are getting married and my god, it's SO romantic, especially since they conceived after getting down and dirty on their first date. They met because her fiance was one of the construction guys redoing the crappy old mall she worked in, and he used to gaze at her gorgeous face and ask her out all the time, They finally went out when she broke up with her alcoholic, abusive ex boyfriend (which she used to do on a weekly basis, actually) and said yes to his daily invitation.
Point being, fairy tales do happen. She was in that really abusive relationship for YEARS before she met (and slept with!) this guy and there it is. A family already made and now growing. Bliss.
The other point being, I'm insanely jealous of all these fertile, paired off chicks.
But not insane enough to hate them and/or want to actually do something rash like cohabitate. In theory, yes, it does sound attractive because of the Moving Furniture, Squashing Spiders deal that men bring along with them, but in practice? I don't think there's enough furniture being shifted or spiders being obliterated to make up for all that questionable hair left on the soap.
Speaking of second babies though, I went along to my appointment with the reproductive team last week. Thursday it was, and you know how I crowed that over the course of thirty one days, my ovaries tick along on a razor sharp schedule? Yeah, well, my period came on the Tuesday, exactly twenty eight days after the last one, which, yes, cool and kind of textbook, EXCEPT, had my period arrived on schedule or even a day or two early, I'd be starting treatment now to do my IVF cycle next month. BUT, as my ovaries are a pair of impatient fools, and because the unit closes over Christmas, I have to wait until at least January.
At. Least. January.
Did you catch that?
Two more months to wait.
GOD.
So I think about things happening for a reason, and bigger pictures, and bla bla bla, and then I thank the universe for the extra three ovulations I have, conceivably (haHA) at least, to utilise.
Which is the best way I know to manage my disappointment. To accept and trust. Even if I do sound like a hairy legged (which I assure you, I am not) hippy when I say it.
Meanwhile, Daniel has taken his little self away and is sitting on my bed with a specimen jar, taking the lid off and putting it back on again and essentially raising himself.
Wolves would do a better job that me.
I've been trying to list some items on ebay this week too, but only got to list three items yesterday afternoon despite putting the afternoon aside to do a fuckload of it. It turned out to be the day that a billion other things happened, so I was left with frantically churning out three ill written auctions late in the day, and relisting some of the unsold ones from over a month ago.
Which is SO not enough because, what with the surgery and its monetary fallout and all the other financial repercussions of getting my face rearranged (in a word, BANDS, which I've not written about yet but which can also be summarised in one word: HATE), and with Daniel's birthday plus party coming up, and then Christmas after that, I've got to do something to at least feel like I'm not going under.
Daniel and I went to the gym this morning too. Me to remind myself that my back still hurts, him to get some entertainment in the creche for a half hour or so (an aside: workouts shouldn't generally take only a half hour, it's just that I never have time to do more than squeeze that time in before the creche closes)
My back doesn't hurt, not really ( no shit, the bowen therapy I had years ago that inspired me to become a therapist myself was the start of my body being able to say "uh, dude? that part of your back is quite flucked, but as long as you know it is, I'm not gonna make it hurt, okie?" to which I say "Yuh, I'm cool wid dat". So it not so much hurts as I know some serious weird ass shite is going on with the big muscles back there, Then of course, as soon as one thing is out, the rest follows so I'm now getting trouble with my jaw, neck, shoulders, right hip, and down the right leg. None of it pain, all of it knowing I'm less that stellar at present and need to rebalance. Which I am doing tomorrow afternoon.
And I think that about wraps up the week.
posted by aibee at 16:10
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