God, this NaBloPoMo thingy is beginning to get me down. I have been going okay. I mean, I only started blogging a month ago, so we’re not gonna get into post quality, but so far my brain has been spewing forth some notion or other for me to post about, every day, pretty much.
Today though, I have nothing coherent to write about.
I am still struggling to shake what has now been officially dubbed “The Great Flutastic Mucusplosion of 2008” (TGFM’08). TGFM’08 started off like an ordinary cold, but seeing as how it chose to align itself with a bout of boob shattering mastitis, has since been upgraded to flu. In light of the fact that the rate of mucus production is not lessening and breathing without coughing is not becoming easier, one could surmise that TGFM’08 has morphed into some revoulting bacterial infections, however, due to the fact that, as the host of TGFM’08, I have a mild doctor phobia, I’ll be trying to lay low and hope it all goes away.
Pudding has been periodically stopping what he’s doing, positioning himself with feet up on a chair and saying “Aaah, what a lovely day”. I don’t know where he’s getting all the random joy and zest for life from, it’s a worry. The other worrying aspect of his bizarre little tableau, is that, while he’s ‘in character’, so to speak, he cannot be reached from the outside world. I have tried to discuss all manner of things with him, but it appears that, when he’s in joyzone, he hears us not.
There are mozzies. Lurking somewhere in our house. They come out at night and attack me. I haven’t seen them but I’m covered in bites. Me and only me.
Grub is too big for her basinette but we don’t have space to erect the cot in our room. She sleeps in our bed anyway but there is this period between about 7pm and midnight, where she will sleep in her basinette and I can have free hands. If I don’t get this time I fear my arms will fall off. Then I’ll have little stubby arm stubs and I’ll have to blog via pencil held in my mouth stabbing at the keys. So, that would be bad. I don’t want her to be in our bed without us there cos she’ll undoubtedly roll. Solution, yesterday we put the cot mattress on the floor, it’s all set up for her to sleep there when she’s having her evening sleep. I usually have the basinette in the lounge with me so I will miss being able to watch her as she sleeps but we have a monitor and she’ll be okay.
Poss keeps trying to bring milk cartons in from the recycling bin to make things with and thinks she can wear me down by asking about it every 90 seconds. She can’t. Why she thinks that I will relent and allow stanky, sour old milk cartons back into my house, I will never know. It’s not happening darling.
Can somebody please use their magic remote to fast forward to when Rhubarb does not know everything. He has recently taken to alternating between just arbitrarily disagreeing with everything that I say and being all sweetness and delightfully agreeable light. Hardly annoying at all, I don’t think I can do teenagers.
Ooh, speaking of teenagers, a while back Beefcake and I realised that from January, when Rhubarb turns 13, we will have at least one teenager until the year 2028. We planned that nicely, hey? I think we may have to institute a mandatory ‘move out on the day of your 18th birthday’ policy.
Last night after dinner Beefcake and I were so exhausted and just wanted five minutes of quiet. The kids were playing in the back yard. We shut the door and sat on the couch having a cuddle with Grub until their shrieking became too much. We’re terrible parents, but gee it was fantastic.