Thursday, February 15, 2018

Milestones and what have you

Son #2 turned a whopping 10 this past week.
Mr Double Digits.
May it be a good year, Bucky.
He's such a good kid.

Carnival came and went.
I studied a lot and tried to get Son#1 to do the same.
It was semi successful.

The husband goes up and down on the Depression Scale.
My friend Sandra, whom I saw today, does the same.
I think that if you keep disturbing the water with your resistance to life, you'll never have a clear reflection of yourself and your life.
And at the end of the day, we die anyway.
Might as well make the very best of each day, right?

Caring all the time is draining, debilitating and I burn out to a crisp if it continues too long.
I send the husband to his parents.
The kids look after themselves.
I'm taking a shower and it's not even 18h00.
This is how we roll.


Friday, February 9, 2018

A hard day's night

...and I've been working like a dog.
I spent this week in work hyperdrive, trying to finish everything before next week, a school holiday, arrives.
My first break since August that I won't be working.
11 hours behind a computer today.

Oh to run away and live a simple life with no-one around, arid ground, grasses and succulents, blazing sun and lots of books.
Where did we go wrong???

It's snowing and bitterly cold.
The kids had Carnaval at school.
Son#1 is still ill, poor bunny.
He's lost 5 kg (and there wasn't much flesh on those bones anyway).

Next week Tuesday there will be Carnaval floats driving past our house again, and I'll have to think of some outing so we can escape its madness.
Carnaval is not my thing.
If one is serious-minded/a nerd/boring-but-happy-that-way, having to defend one's anti-frivolous stance is tough. 
I don't 'get' frivolous.
Does that make sense?

For now, just rest.
Son#2, who falls asleep in my bed every night, is snoozing next to me.
He smells nice and I love him.
Louise the cat will come along shortly, sleeping on my feet all night.
She's half dog, I'm sure.


Sunday, February 4, 2018

Escapism 101

Sunday blues.
I've been running through all my 'how to avoid work tomorrow' -scenarios since midnight.
I catch myself typing words like 'escaping' and 'running away' in Google, hoping to find out what it looks like.
No answers yet.

Sons#2 and #3 are high on energy while Son#1 has swollen glands, a heavy cough and raccoon eyes.
No school tomorrow.
I have no idea how he'll catch up all his school work, considering he doesn't even keep up with regular homework...

We took Things #2 and 3 to the park in Breda to get rid of surplus energy.
Home, tv and a bit of red wine.


Friday, February 2, 2018


Son#1 has been ill for 3 days.
This morning we left the house to alleviate his cabin fever, & drove to Dordrecht for nice coffee.

He hangs and sags a lot, coughs his lungs out.
No longer a little boy, he's quickly catching up to my 1,74 m.

It is terribly cold, the bone-gnawing kind and we drove back from Dordt in snowy rain.
I left my piles and piles of exams at work - this will be the first weekend since September that I won't work or prepare. 
I should, but I won't [read: can't].
An oeuf is an oeuf
[enough = enough]


Monday, January 29, 2018


If there is one thing that my physical rehab taught me, it is that I can let go.
Not should let go.

Life ain't perfect.
The husband is still smack-bang in his existential crisis (i.e. not perfect).
Our boys are still weird and strangely round pegs in square holes (not perfect), subjected to our imperfect parenting and provision.

The house is crumbling on the one side with a tree growing from the gutter.
The bathroom is well past its sell-by date.
The utterly imperfect cleaner with her soap opera-life imperfected our already imperfect kitchen floor
(one thing I have been unable to let go).

My sleep, body, motivation, pain levels, work attitude, perpetual hope and kindness also suffer.
But it's okidoki, you know.
We are born and we die and inbetween events engulf us over which we have zero control.
We make the best of it.

My perfectly alcohol-free January turned out to be slightly imperfect too.
And I'm okay with that.


Sunday, December 31, 2017

New language then


The smoking gun

This year was different.
The husband and I both started new jobs.
We have grown closer, more honest, and I love it and him.

Son#1 started high school, struggling with focus and homework and a tempo he still hasn't grown used to.
We clash a lot in getting him to SIT, FOCUS, STUDY and BE INTERESTED.
It doesn't always help.
My first born also started heavy ADHD medication, and flashes in and out of puberty (because hell, why not?).
He remains a worry:  the school coordinator told me that he is Pupil Zero - the shining example of how the school should never, EVER approach gifted kids again.
Heartwarming (not).

Son#2 is doing better at school this year - apparently he is somewhat of an Alpha Male on the playground - who would have thought?
The Alpha with the tiny heart.
Mr Overcompensation.  
If you don't want to be bullied anymore, Become the Bully.

Son#3 still milks his baby-status, a bit bored at school, and we're still in two minds about sending him to a school for the highly gifted.
One can only tell in retrospect if a decision was the right one, after all.
We made a mistake with Son#1, methinks.

Aside from the fact that I fervently hope and trust that I will win the Lottery this evening, I also hope to drink less, eat better, sleep more, study hard and love even harder this coming year.
And think of the sick and displaced people around the world who only wish to survive this coming year, if they even think that far ahead.
Not only think of them, but DO something about it.

This year was good and bad.  

We did wonderful things - Canada and Amsterdam and museums and dinners together, 

Hopefully, when 2018 is done and dusted and I'm still around, I will have answers to health questions that still won't leave me be, and will I have a life that isn't defined by constant and pounding pain, fever and fatigue 24/7.

Some days I cannot imagine carrying on like this any longer.

I have a family and a job and one keeps going.

To conclude, I am thankful - for the family, for the job that kept me going despite pain and fatigue.
For trips abroad and closer by.
Enough money, enough food.
We're not displaced people.
Just a bit sick.
It can always be far worse.


Saturday, October 28, 2017


Son#1 had his first school dance last night.
We decked him out with fake blood, fake stitches and a cheapo children's chainsaw.
He was still sleeping when Son#3 and I left for swimming lessons.

I've spent my week studying science philosophy for social sciences and of course, working and avoiding my colleagues.
I've never worked in such a team of mean and unthinking people.
The stupid/mean combination is lethal.
Above everything!!!!
I won't be staying there for long, methinks.
One reflects one's environment after a while, and I miss intelligent, THINKING colleagues that I had at the university.
Oh well.

A quiet weekend lies ahead.
Looking for kids' winter clothes in the attic.
Work preparation.
Cleaning the house.
And perhaps to a museum in Dordrecht where the Netherlands was declared a country.