Discomfort

Staring at the screen. Blank thoughts. Empty brain? I look at my belly. Protruding, so round (i think), full, compact. Now wondering...my bladder is so jampacked...i've got to wee again!

My husband blogs once a year

And this is his 2005 entry:



Waking up at 8.30am Sunday morning, lolling about the bed like a dislocated dog with 3 legs, I engaged the world by receiving a clout on the chops by my active 3-year-old Zak. Obviously he didn't mean to cause such an outburst from his father's gob. That is probably something one comes to appreciate with having kids. I often get an unexpected poke in the back with some plastic apparatus posing as a toy. These 'toys' probably use more batteries than a whore's vibrator. Whatever happened to the good old pull string toy or wind up toy? Needless to say all this talk of saving energy hasn't reached the manufacturers of toys or their buddies, the battery makers. Or even the governments that tell us all to save energy but don't restrict the people who make batteries? Anyway enough high horse for today. Back to the topic at hand.

Besides the odd poke in the back or wallop on the legs, nothing can come as more of a devastating blow to ones manhood, than a devastating blow to ones manhood. Frequently Zak doesn't want to get out of the car seat when we arrive home. He prefers to stay there and protest. He enjoys the car so why should he leave? Indeed. But when necessity dictates that it is in his best interest to be taken into the house he struggles and thrashes out anywhere. This is when one can get a well-aimed and guided boot in the nuts. Full on. Doubled up in agony I am holding a writhing brat whilst trying to fumble for my keys which have nearly always fell down the hole in my pocket into the dark inners of the coat lining. The kicking continues whilst I acknowledge the neighbours, trying to grin a smile of sorts. Eventually the door is opened and Zak takes off into the house like a tornado whilst I lie on the floor and wait for the pain to subside, thinking of all things bright and beautiful.

Next year, the truth about washing powder....

Yes, we do read the same books at home

Appointments with the most disliked people in the world

After his 3rd year assessment by the doctor and health visitor, Zak had his MMR vaccine, although it’s over a year late for a first dose. We decided to give it to him after 13 months of mulling over and waiting. We gave it a go when the Health Visitor told us that the vaccine is not mercury-based.

That same day, we went to our dentist for check-up. I had my teeth polished but Zak decided not to show his teeth because, as he keeps on saying, “Mummy, I don’t like it!” We didn’t force him because he was carrying Penguino and Penguino might kick the hell out of the dentist and her assistant and send all their tools a-flying to South Pole. So we left, but not before he told everybody his complete address, just in case they want to see Penguino later in the week.

My 2006 shopping list

So it’s finally 2006. We bade goodbye to 2005 barely 2 days ago by drinking loads of wine and watching countless reruns of Annie and Oliver Twist because television company executives have the moral obligation to show to all british children that despite what Jamie Oliver discovered in their school dinners, they would still grow up unlike little Annie and Oliver.

We’ve also heard the Queen’s Christmas message, seen the London Eye New Year fireworks while doing the countdown with Hootenanny, gobbled up a hideous amount of Christmas pudding with white sauce that reminds me of what we, women usually see during/after extremely passionate moments (yes, that colour and that stickiness) and suddenly it’s another year!

An obligatory list of things to do for year 2006 has to be written and whether or not they’re accomplished is another matter. So mine is here:

● I’ve got to give birth 9 weeks from now. No matter what. This is my priority of the year.

● Learn Chinese language in September. No, not from the BBC site but in a proper class. And I hereby resolve to attend all my classes despite how my tutor looks like. The website design course that I attended last year was a mess. My tutor looked like he’d been in the lion’s den for a century. I sat in between a delightful man who had never encountered toothpaste in almost 5 decades and a miserable goth who believed that she could avert the destruction of the world by learning to control the world wide web. I had enough so I packed up but not before the last day of the course. Clever me.

● Spend more time with Zak’s geography. Yes, he’s only 3 years old but he can find Cyprus in the map but not the Philippines!

● Learn to be more patient. My husband’s side of the family are a bunch of worriers. His mother worries that I eat too much scones but she bakes them for me anyway, every other day. She worries if Karl does the cooking during family gatherings (which is a few times a week) because 5 hours might not be enough to cook chicken with roast potatoes. Dad worries about his Sudoku. Karl’s sister worries about her weight but buys crates of cakes every week. And Karl worries about everybody’s health that he would confiscate all the sweets he could find in their cupboards and pantries, bring them home, and eat them bit by bit while he’s alone in his office or the toilet and come out with his trousers unzipped declaring, I lost a few pounds! It surely sounds a miracle to me.

● Learn the art of making tea. Which should be added last? Water or milk? And which type of mug should I use? The one made in China or the other one which is made in…China?

● Learn to cook british food, like mashed potato, roast potato, boiled potato, Indian curry, and Chinese take-away.

● And oh, shop at Lidle. I forgot my list.

Let it snow, let it snow, in the hills