Stupid stupid morning

Stupid mummy morning.

Don’t set alarm, because I’m home sick today after a long lingering cold virus thing that’s been dragging on for three weeks. Yesterday was the world’s least successful sick day, given I spent half of it doing day care drop offs, pick ups, doctor and pharmacy visit, and stupid work emails. Today will be better.

7:13 “Mum? Mum!”

7:14 pee whilst holding jman (just not worth the tantrum)

7:14-7:30 breastfeed in bed, to requests of “more, drink? More, drink?” Every time I try and hurry things up. A few squeeezy hugs to start the day

7:30 see dada off

7:31 make a wrap x 2 for jman lunch, fend him off from stealing all the flatbread

7:35 dress jman whilst he eats flatbread (mummy fail) and holds a large model car. The negotiations to get him to swap hands for dressing could get me a job in the UN.

7:40 deposit jman into high chair and shovel weetbix and honey (bad) into a bowl

7:42 refuse seven requests of “tv, on?”

7:43 pick up spoon from floor. “More, drink?” Pick up sippy cup from floor. Run out of room and get dressed v quickly before weetbix is wallpapering the lounge room.

7:44 “more weetbix?” . Deliver more weetbix.

7:50 “pishes? More pishes ?” Deliver tinned peaches in a bowl.

7:55 “more honey?” Deliver more honey.

8:00 where does the time go? Decide to ring annoying government department, as we received two online letters I forgot to read, and our child care rebate has been suspended. Why? Because jman’s immunisation ( which is up to date) is not up to date. Seriously?

They answer the phone. Miracle. They offer to ring our doctor and sort it out today. What the? Is this HELP?

“More weetbix?”. Decide to brave second government department. The paying one. It takes five minutes just to get through the ID Checks and disclaimers. Then we are experiencing higher than normal customer demand. You are 10 th in the queue….,.

“More pishes?” The weetbix is moving further and further from the target area. As in, it is getting thrown, by the handful, and weetbix art is appearing on the high chair tray. I’ll risk it. Deliver more pishes.

Decide to make tea. Notice slow cooker is still plugged in from last night. Reach over to unplug it. Holding phone to ear and screwing up peach jar. Put arm right above boiling kettle. Hmm, I love the smell of scalded flesh in the morning.

8:10 still on hold, running cold water over my steam burnt wrist at the kitchen sink whilst supervising weetbix art. Occasionally pause for a run in, food delivery, or intermediate clean up. Run back to tap. Its fine, its fine, I’m fine. Continue to make tea. Continue to be on hold . Continue to have wrist sting like the BEJESUS and return to running water on it.

8:15 Freak out whilst on hold. Centrelink letter, dated 7th April, said we had 21 days to sort out the immunisation problems. It is now 29th. We’re buggered. I forgot to read the online letter, notified by their stupid text message system. J man was sick and we put off immunisation twice, by a grand total of 5 weeks. It’s been six weeks since he was immunised, you stupid stupid people. SIX freaking weeks. I havent read your letters, because most of the time, your letters are letters telling me I might get a letter. Generally, they contain no information whatsoever. You people WASTE my freakin time.

And I work full time. And have a child. And keep a house. And shop for groceries. And clean. And see family. And we’ve had two ear infections, a virus, and croup since then. And I have been sick for weeks but only saw a dr yesterday. So pardon me if you whack job government departments are not the first thing on my list ow my wrist hurts.

Such a relaxing start to the day.

8:20am “All finished. All finished mum. Thank you mum mum. Thank you mum mum.” Ok jman, I got you. I’ll move away from the tap. Clean you up. You’re free to go. (his sentences are so damn cute).

8:25 “Hello”. I explain the situation. “Oh thats ok, you’re still active on our system. It looks like you’ve got….til the 10th of May to sort this out.” I breathe. My chest loosens. I wish I knew that at 11pm when I got shouty at poor hub-in-boots for never taking any responsibility and how much I hate government paperwork or forms of any kind and why is this always my problem and you never do anything its always me that has to manage this. Bad wifey ranty rant.

It is hard as I have the more flexible job. So I do all the mopping up around the edges. I do the tradie visits for leaky taps, the child immunisations, the parcels getting delivered to home. I do it and do it and do it. But just because I don’t have strict core hours does not mean I don’t have work to do. I have lots and lots and lots of work to do. I just fit it in. Around the gaps. To benefit our son. To keep him out of long daycare hours. Because I made that choice.

But it is never easy. And the trouble with flexibility is it gives the illusion of not much work. But any time out, it is always paid back. Often double. It is paid back with 1am marking when I still have a cold, or sunday night emails, or hyperventilating 2 hours in the office sorry I can’t talk to you have so much to do. A lack of preparation one week, means double the next week. I work. I work and work and work. Its just you don’t see it.

8:30 “Cmon Jman. Lets go (to daycare).”

“Trowey?”

“Yes, you can bring trolley. But no big trolley walks this morning. We have to go.”

“Car?” Yes, you can choose a  car to bring. Just hang on while I run my wrist under some more water”

8:40 Pull up at family daycare. He’s pooed during the car ride.

My wrist hurts.

Rocket bag (neoprene cooler bag containing lunch), must be placed on the exact correct angle in trowey to be pushed in to daycare. I succeed.

We walk inside. Mobile phone rings. Please let it not be government department. Please let it not be the government department. Its hub-in-boots. “I rang Centrelink. They said they can fix it.”

Yes, yes. So did I. I rang Centrelink too. I fixed my arm in the process.

Big Gay Al (At family daycare, not his real name) finds me some burn cream.

 I leave, amidst much teary fanfare.

Happy sick day. This morning may have even breached my levels of chaos tolerance. And I wasn’t even getting ready for work….

The life of a working mother is RIDICULOUS.

I stopped for Aloe Vera. And Schnitzel. And a coffee.

10am I check online. His immunisation status is up to date. Now all we need is govt dept A to talk to Govt Dept B….

11am Game of thrones series 3, here I come.

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Goin’ bush

A week or so ago, we finally upped stumps and headed north to see an old friend of mine on his farm.

It is one of those knew each other sort of dated lost touch totally sort of in touch should be more in touch friendships. Most of it was built on the promise of a horse ride. Which had never happened.

When Joel and I first met, we always planned we’d go riding. I was learning dressage at the time (badly, total novice). Joel came to my first competition…which incidentally was also my first fall. We kept planning and planning a ride. I went to his place near singleton, and I can’t remember what happened…but I got to ride and joel got to walk. A lot. Still no ride together.

Through the wonders of Facebook I realised joel was actually not in a warzone for once, and instead of running through buildings in Afghanistan, he was in Sydney, so I facebooked him and said “drop in!”. This was quite a few months back. He did, and I finally got to meet his wife, Sandi. Joel finally got to meet hub-in-boots, and they both got to meet J-man.

Sandi was pretty important. Because a long phone conversation with her (as a legend midwife) early in my pregnancy made me choose a private obstetrician. And although the guy I chose was a total tool, it also probably saved my pregnancy.

It’s funny how life works. A random ‘didn’t quite work out’ series of dates 14 years ago, some brief comments on Facebook, a “you should really talk to Sandi” comment from Joel, early in my pregnancy, and a whole lot of “sliding doors” moments. I remember where I was sitting during that phone conversation. I remember how I was sitting, resting my feet on an old desk (in the room that is now a nursery), sitting in the quiet nervous excitement of early IVF pregnancy, unaware of what was to befall us, talking for a long time to a woman I’d never met about decisions I’d never made before. So in a sense for me, this visit was completing the circle.

For Joel, too, who had been promised this horse ride for 14 years, there was a sense of completing the circle. I hadn’t been on a horse for ten years. After two bad falls in a short space of time and some neurologist waggling his finger at me about repeated concussion, I had hung up my saddle. Even though I had loved it. I figured it would never happen. But Joel was determined.

And day one of our trip, wouldn’t you know it grey Jack pulled up lame. No explanation. No nothing. We could not ride together. Again. I rode and Joel walked, again. And Big Jack (all horses on this farm are called Jack, it’s a long story), was a bit tetchy for my skill level.

Day two, Grey Jack was fine. And we rode.

The family as a whole fell in love with the chickens. Jman loved collecting the eggs, and taking the eggs from the coop to the kitchen was the source of many tantrums in our three day stay. He fed chickens, sat on horses, fed cows, annoyed the dog, saw the roos. We got to know Sandi, we spent time at their great place, filled our lungs with fresh air, swam, and played.

And Joel and I got our ride together on the beach. After 14 years. One circle complete, and hopefully, another beginning.

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