Karma

Everyday I tell the Juffin to put his things away up out of reach of our son.

Everyday, he doesn't do it.

Most of the time it's just little things like his reading glasses (we have about a million pairs each), his playstation controllers, headphones, wallet... stuff like that.  Not dangerous stuff.  Just everyday stuff.

You all know where this is going right?

This morning Juffin put his Mechanic hat on and decided to take Sabrina, my dilapidated car, in for some much needed TLC.  Before he could do that though, he needed to move his car which was parked behind mine, and guess what?  He couldn't find his keys.  Last seen in the little hands of one mischievous Mushroom.

We searched for nearly half an hour.  Kitchen, lounge room, bedroom, toy boxes, his bedroom, laundry, ensuite... I checked the toilet because just yesterday I'd seen him putting his toy car into the toilet and splashing it around.  No keys there either.

Yes, I watched my son play in the toilet.  But in my defence, I was in the shower at the time.  At least I was watching him!

We were no closer to finding the ONLY key to Juffin's car when I then remembered that I'd taken the rubbish out half an hour earlier, and guess who had pulled half it out on the floor and started munching on scraps earlier in the morning? You guessed it, the Mushroom! (that is a whole other story!)

I mention this to Juffin who looks at me imploringly.  No.  I will not be checking the rubbish bag that has been sitting out in the wheely bin for nigh on an hour.  Your son was playing with your key.  He was playing with the bin and the food in it.  Key is now gone and bin has been emptied into larger outdoor bin. You don't have to be a genius to work it out.  I point towards the door and march him out there.  If he wants his bloody key, he'll have to look for it himself.

2 seconds later I hear a huzzah.  Eureka.  Key found.

Juffin re-enters the house looking relieved that he found the stupid thing but unimpressed with the unidentifiable food stuffs stuck to his key.

Mushroom followed him into the kitchen laughing. Probably because I was laughing.

Ahh, karma is a bitch.

I then made things even worse when I couldn't stop myself from saying, 'Have you learnt your lesson now?' If looks could kill....

I would like to advise that someone did learn a lesson from today's experience and has put their key in a safe, out of reach place this afternoon when they got home! Hooray!  

The Bin.  Teaching life lessons since 2014

  

Rearward Facing

On Wednesday afternoon I nearly ripped the Mushroom's arm off trying to get him into the car and secured into his car seat.  It was traumatic for both of us.  He was in tears, I was in tears.  No fun for anyone.

On Wednesday evening, after telling Juffin of my torment, we decided to turn the car seat around. 

Yes. We still had our son rearward facing at 15 months.  

What kind of crazy hippies are we you may ask... but before you go hating, there are a few legitimate reasons for keeping your kids rearward facing for as long as possible and they can all be found here.

Or you could just watch this video.  (You don't have to watch the whole thing, you'll get the gist of it pretty quickly!) 

Juffin and I watched this video when the Mushroom was very small.  It wasn't a big deal, it just made sense to us.  If it doesn't make sense to you that's ok.  I don't care.  It just made sense to us so we decided to keep our little ray of fungi rearward facing for as long as possible.  We didn't quite make the 2 years, but we're pretty happy with 16 months.

Someone else seems pretty happy with himself also.

Grinning it up

Unfortunately I can no longer have sneaky eats in the front without a little person wanting some of that foodie action.  Silver lining, good for my arse right?  Boo!    

Hospital

Earlier this week, I spent eighteen hours in the emergency ward of our lovely public hospital.

Coming off the back of a long weekend, (Australia Day, Oi, oi, oi!!), I woke at some ungodly hour on Tuesday in agonising pain.  Like thought I was in labour again pain.  I was doubled over, clutching at my stomach, thinking that an alien was going to come out of my abdomen, because there's no way that I've been walking around growing a baby for the last nine months and I just didn't know about it!

After writhing around for a few hours, (crying, screeching, clutching at the sheets), Juffin convinced me that it was time to seek medical assistance.  I grudgingly agreed.  There was no way that this could be normal gastro pain.  I was just hoping that it would go away after a few hours.  It didn't.

Thinking that it wasn't quite emergency ward hospital status, I tried unsuccessfully to contact my GP a few times.  At this point I was grunting every time we hit a bump on the road.  Juffin was gripping the steering wheel and glancing over at me every two seconds, whilst the Mushroom was babbling away in the back.  The whole drive, I kept thinking about going to the hospital when I was in labour.  It wasn't a pleasant experience.

I finally get through to my GP.  Except he's on holidays.  Of course he is. I ask if I could get in with another Doctor asap as I'm not doing so well.  She is suitably concerned and puts me through to the nurse who advises me to go the hospital.

We do.  After dropping the Mushroom off at daycare.  Where he is very unhappy to be dropped off by his Daddy.

At Emergency I catch a break and a girl I know is working triage.  She takes me straight through.  Huzzah!  Except no-one knows what's wrong with me.  Poked, prodded, scanned, tested; ruling out miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, gastroenteritis, appendicitis, gall bladder issues..... the list goes on.  At one point, I start thinking there really is nothing wrong with me.  It's psychosomatic.  I have literally stressed myself out so much that I've manifested abdominal pain.

Twelve hours after arriving, we have a diagnosis.  Finally.  I am admitted, but spend another five hours in emergency where they pump me full of drugs and don't let me drink anything in case I need to go into theatre soon.  Juffin has organised for his Mum to take the shroom and he's staying the night at her place.  Juffin is being stoic and lovely but I send him home as he's clearly tired and hungry and there's no point in him sitting around being uncomfortable in a hard ass plastic chair.  At least I have a semi-comfortable bed to lie in.  

The verdict is, I will need surgery, but thankfully, I'm not dying.  Ironically, though we do have health insurance, we don't have the money to pay the Doctor's out of pockets to go through the private system so I'm now on a waiting list. Even more ridiculous is that when I wake on Wednesday in the ward, I have no pain.  Gone.  Like the day before never happened.

It's still another eight hours until I get to go home and the worst part of all of this is being separated from the Mushroom.  It's like an ache all day.  I can't wait to see him and squeeze him tight.

As a result of this little setback, we also have to put off our plans to get pregnant with baby number two.

This year sucks man.  I woke up on New Years Day with a head cold and it hasn't stopped.  A super infection, gastro, headaches, tiredness, money woes and now this.  I'm over it and February has only just begun.

It's hard to be positive when everything sucks the nut.  So here's the good news.  I finally got some info about study, and looks like I'll be starting that fairly shortly.  And I also took my first order for cupcakes on Valentine's Day.  It's not all doom and gloom!