Can a control freak stop?

We're on holiday with my mother's family at the moment and I've realised I am a control freak when it comes to the Little Guy's behaviour. I remember the drive to my mother's family when I was a child, as we drew nearer my grandparents house the aura in our car became full of threat and desperate intention. Both my mother's. She warned me to be polite and to speak nicely, to request nothing, to behave and do as I was told and to ensure that I did not tell any 'private business' to the family. That last part loosely translates as "tell them about my boyfriend or social life including the fact that I smoke and your life won't be worth living."

It seems that those lessons have been impregnated on my psyche because here, on holiday with Mum and her family, I find myself threatening the Little Guy in a similar fashion. My concern is manners. Eating nicely, being well-behaved, obeying instructions ASAP and generally toning down his youthful exuberance. I want him to behave well so that both Mum and I look good in front of family.

Which is a pity really, I remember loathing the talks from my Mum and now I'm doing it to my son. I need to take a chill-pill and be ok with his kid-ish-ness. He's just a kid after all.

The Big Guy arrives tomorrow with his two kids and I will endeavour to relax and not mind the inevitable childish behaviour that ensues when all three children are together.

On a different matter, the Little Guy is getting quite good at swimming. He's so cute flailing around in the water. He thrashes and kicks spasmodically and manages both to avoid drowning and to get himself across the pool. His overarm is almost worthy of the moniker! He saved me today which involved holding my arm and towing me to the side of the pool. Too sweet. He's competitive too - loves a race across the little pool and naturally he always wins despite his somewhat slowing habit of looking over his shoulder to see where the competition is at all times. Mum and I were in fits of laughter over this today.

He is such a happy, sunny child. Keeps trying and trying to the point of exhaustion. He's always been like that and I am so glad he has such a huge dose of perseverance in his personality - it will take him far.

Spring cleaning?

So I missed Spring for appropriate spring cleaning. Here we are in December and I'm just now finding time for the big toss-out and organise.

Yesterday I arranged things so that we can walk into our hall/linen closet again and actually find stuff on the shelves. The Middle Guy tried on every single item in his wardrobe without complaining and discovered cool clothes neither he nor I knew he owned. I tossed/sorted both older children's school uniforms. I threw out three bags of rubbish and created two bags of kids clothes for the Salvos. The Little Guy's wardrobe is yet to be attacked.

Today I cleaned the bathroom to within an inch of its life. We have a spa and a ton of ledges that collect dust and hair (both human and cat). So I bit the bullet and clambered all over the bathroom with Jif and Bam and some other racing car stuff that really does cut through soap scum and now the bathroom is so clean you need sunglasses when you walk in there. It's be-ute-i-full.

Ahhh, the joys of the super-clean. I am hoping to have most of the big jobs done before we go away on the 27th. Wish me luck.


P.S. No pregnancy for me this year. Hopefully we will manage to conceive next year.

Christmas and humbugs

Christmas is almost over for the Big Guy and I this year. In fact, dare I say it, we are done right about now.

Why so early you may ask?

We are childless for Christmas this year and the Big Guy's family did their Christmas partays last weekend when we were all kidded-up. We had the luncheons (yum) and the kids opened pressies, were not overloaded (hooray) and had a lovely time playing with their cousins.

On the morning of Sunday the 21st we trashed our own house with Christmas wrap and presents and happily put together various electronic and block devices. We opened the Wii and introduced:

1. the Little Guy to the wonders of Wii boxing (in which he is allowed to hit a virtual person as hard as he is able)
   
2. the Middle Guy to the Wii Fit (in which he discovers that getting fit can be fun) and
   
3. the Perfect Child (that's my step-daughter, the second youngest) to the joys of Wii Tennis (in which she can actually make contact between a ball and a racket).

The children proclaimed their delirious happiness at receiving a computer game in this the "Children-Should-Be-Luddites" household. We are pretty fierce at protecting our youngsters from the seductive tones of gaming devices but this year decided that a Wii met us half-way. Now we get to see our small people behaving as though they have a Chorea while they dance and bounce and whack their way through the games on the Wii.

Anyhoo, all this Christmas spirit is now used up, the children have been deposited with their respective other parents and will not return til after Chrissymouse Day. The Little Guy gets collected on Boxing Day and the other two on the 27th. So the Big Guy and I are left to ponder a solo Chrissymouse and wonder what on earth we did BK (before kids). We realised that we went to family Christmas celebrations in the old days, however no family has invited us anywhere on the Day. (Listen to the sound of the violins playing their sad, sad song and wipe my tears away puh-leeze.)

We shall survive and when I find myself drifting towards the sorry-for-self-stage I remember to remind myself that their are others in far, far worse situations.

All told, we had a pretty great (early) Christmas weekend with the kids.

The lovely Dr L.

The Lovely Dr L. says that I should be pregnant already.

The Lovely Dr L. says my eggs are fine, the Big Guy's swimmers are fine and the next thing to check is my tubes. He can put me on the public list but it will probably be about a year before I can get public laproscopic treatment surgery.

This brings me to my oh-my-god-the-public-health-system-in-Australia-for-non-life-threatening-issues-sucks rant.

Actually that is the rant.

12 months to get tubes unblocked or fix whatever might be wrong in there? I am nearly an old, decrepit, ancient lady in egg-years, another 12 months could be too long. So I bit the bullet and have proffered my body and my bank account to the Lovely Dr L. for his kind ministrations in mid-January.

Here's hoping I get the Christmas present of all time this year - a big fat shiny positive home pregnancy test on Christmas Day. That would totally be the most excellent gift ever. Alternately, I'll be drinking heavily on Christmas Day.

It's a win-win situation really. Ha! I must look at it like that so I don't have an awful Christmas if I don't get a positive test. But there's chance, surely?



Oh, and I wish I had worked harder in Year 12 and actually made it into med school, the Lovely Dr L. is raking in $18 per minute and he gets to make people's dreams come true. What a sweet job.

I hate Outpatients Clinic D

I booked an appointment with the fertility specialist in early September. I've been (strangely) looking forward to this appointment so the Big Guy and I can get a hustle on and maybe discover why we're not up the duff yet. My long-awaited appointment was for 2:15pm on Tuesday 9th December.

I got a call today at 4pm from the receptionist at the clinic and they've cancelled all the appointments for tomorrow!!! Tomorrow was the last clinic for the year and she said the next appointment I could have would be April 21st 2009.

APRIL My GP said he would have been ropeable (great word that, inspires pictures of him trussed up like a spit-roast pig) - I on the other hand was too busy crying and being sympathetic to the poor receptionist who had to ruin 30 women's days with the bad news.

She said they'd only just found out that the doctors wouldn't be there and she's had to reschedule everyone. And by re-schedule she meant find the next available appointment ... in one fell swoop I moved from the head of the queue to the very end. Can you believe April? Not reschedule and put us in ASAP cause I've waited so long already - but bump me all the way to the back of the line. Surely that's patently unfair???

I was so incredibly upset. Really, very, completely upset. I haven't been crying about all this trying-to-conceive-failure-rubbish all year. Keeping it together nicely. Until today - I had a big meltdown just like my little crying emoticon.

An hour later, I gathered my wits about me and called my GP (yes, the ropeable one) who referred me to a private specialist (who also does public) and his lovely receptionist listened to my sob story and squashed me into an appointment on Friday. So now it's going to cost us a packet of cash but at least I'll get an initial appointment and once-over and see if he can get me into the laproscopy clinic as a public patient soon.

Is the universe conspiring against the Big Guy and I? Is it a sign that we can't even have the specialist appointment work out for us? I hope not.

Speaking of signs, this is my 12th cycle and I'm now going to see the specialist on the 12th of the 12th.

Black Pedro

Hello visitor! You have arrived at one of the most popular posts in my blog. I'm not sure what drew you here - perhaps your own mother used to scare you with threats of Black Pedro or perhaps you just thought the title was intriguing. :o) So now I'm intrigued - leave me a comment letting me know where you heard about Black Pedro, why you're here. Pretty please.
 


 Does anyone else know about Black Pedro? (Zwarte Piet.)

I tell The Little Guy that he'd better be good so Santa Claus (Sinterklaas, Saint Nicholas) can come give him presents rather than Black Pedro giving him presents. You don't want Black Pedro to visit you - he'll bring you a lump of coal or maybe give you a thump in the head. (I don't tell the Little Guy that he'll get a thump in the head though!) Traditionally, naughty children were threatened with abduction by Black Pete.

TLG gets a measure of terrified delight from the stories of Black Pedro (told in my bad husky Spanish accent) and retorts that he wouldn't mind a piece of coal for Christmas. I don't think he knows what coal is though.

(Photo from wikipedia creative commons - Zwarte Piet)

Excitement and 5 year olds

The excitement is mine.

I got high distinctions for my two final theory subjects - my average is sitting at 87 which makes me eligible for a scholarship and entry into a doctoral program should I choose to go that way.

Yay me!


The 5 year old is also mine. And by God I adore that child. He's being baptised in the coming weeks (yes, I'm a Mick and so will he be) and I told him about his godfather today.

"So, sweetie, Big-Man Barry will be your Godfather."

The Little Guy promptly burst into heart-wrenching sobs and tearily mumbled, "But I don't want another father, I only want 'the Big Guy' and Daddy!"

Poor little darlin', I do believe he thought I was leaving the Big Guy and marrying again. Upending his little world and giving him yet another father. It took a while to settle him and help him understand that Barry would just be a church-father. Too cute.