Rest

My week started well.
I went to see my friend Sandra who is also heading for a burnout, but has the foresight to stop, now.
Before things get worse.
We had coffee in the spring sunshine and talked about work and kids and holidays and long leg hairs.
I forget to shave my legs, and so does she, thank goodness.

Then to Ikea I went, to buy doors for the cheap bookcases in my home office that will no longer be in their collection, which would leave my bookcases doorless, and that spells too much visual clutter.
I ate soup and fruit and looked at people, listening to their conversations.
It was nice.

Then home, rested a while, and cleaned the guest apartment for my mother.
Just 2 more nights.
Freaky.
Perhaps she's not looking forward to the trip - it will after all, be quite confrontational, but I hope the change will do her good.
New perspectives.
Always good.  
We're all excited:  Everyone from the husband, to the kids, me and even the damn cat.
I love loving someone.

Tomorrow, work:  meetings, lessons, processing marks.
But first, we sleep.

.

Glorious

We had a good day.
Son#1 went for a rugby match somewhere in Zeeland, and we picked him up, drove to the beach and sat there for a couple of hours.
The husband tackled the boys on the beach, Son#3 had many hysterical fits when faced by dogs, both big and small.
He is, I'm convinced, half nudist.
Those pants were chucked very, very quickly.
We tracked lots of sand into the car.

Then this evening, the husband and I went out on a date (!!).
We had a gin & tonic, then went to see 'August:  Osage County'.
Don't know what to make of the movie, but the audience was ridiculous.
We were surrounded by probably-single women who ooh-ed and aah-ed, giggled and chatted during the entire movie, and made daft comments in stereo:  one on my left, one on my right.
The movie probably wasn't that bad.
We drove home and laughed about it.
And that's good.

Tomorrow, a Roman museum in Nijmegen, then to my in-laws for free dinner.
And just 4 nights until my mum is here.
Yay!


.

Follow your nose

Fail-safe.

True story.

And it really is a true story:
I turned into Monster Mother yesterday, after eating wheat again for the first time in weeks, if not months...
I mean, monster.
The whole village was in the audible fallout zone, I'm sure.
Mood swings, an itchy, burning skin all over.
Wheat just ain't my thing, it seems.
It might even explain Thing #1 and Thing#2's behaviour too.
But how to go about getting kids wheat-free, I don't know.

No more for me, anyway.
Phew.

.

Cough cough

Sick, but still going strong.

Cuddle cuddle, cough cough.

We eat a bit, drink a lot.

.

Random Extropy (or The Evolution of Progress)

What it is...
Extropy: the extent of a system's intelligence, information, and capacity for improvement.
Trust me, it's a positive thing.
And so I view poor Son#3:  Pneumonia Round #4, I think?
New antibiotics, paracetomol for the fever, cough medicine and an asthma inhaler.
I cancelled all my classes and meetings (and there were many) for the day, and Son#3 and I stayed home.
But I believe in extropy: Son#3 will be right as rain as soon as summer starts.
Or as Muriel's father in 'Muriel's Wedding' kept saying:  You can't stop progress.
I loved that movie.
Run away, and reinvent yourself.

Sigh.
Tomorrow, it's just another week until my mother arrives.
She's sorting through all her and my father's belongings, and it's a crap process.
I wake with my dad, and at night, he's the last person I see.
I miss him.
One day, we might get used to him being gone, to not be here anymore.
But that thought feels so disloyal - like denying that he was ever part of our lives.
And I wonder, like the Dutch forensic pathologist Bela Kubat, where did all my dad's thoughts go?


.

Comfort & Chaos

Even with Son#3's Terrible Two's finally making its appearance, he and I adore each other.

Adooooore.

I take comfort in his presence.

My dad was completely smitten with him.

Wish my dad was also coming along together with my mother in 10 days' time.

I think this trip will be very emotional for my mom, and for me.

I'm just glad we'll get to spend time together - and the boys are already jumping up and down in excitement.

Our weekend so far is quiet - we're cleaning a bit, playing a lot, not doing all that much.

Perhaps later, a museum.

And lots of kissing and hugging, thankyouverymuch.

My work-coach-person asked me what has changed that makes me feel less burned out.
I couldn't figure it out.
The husband says I fight more and stick up more for myself.
He's probably right, you know.
My head is still chaotic, but my vision is calm.
Clearer.

Sigh.

.

C'est Le Weekend: Shublime Wine

For jusht 2-shixhty-9.

Need I say more?

At least for an alcoholic, I'm quite happy.
The Global Drug Survey has nothing on me.
Ha!

.

Brain Symposium

Did you know that in Greece, think ancient times, the word 'symposium' referred to a drinking party?
Cue the conga, coloured lights and dancing girls. 

I went to a symposium at work today and we only got to drink coffee, but it was still good.
Really good.
The subject was the brain, all the pitfalls our brains get us into, and how to focus better and pay attention.
I attended a sport psychologist's workshop, and even if my initial feelings were 'Mmmmmm', the guy made sense, and I learned something about myself and how I think or think I think.

I came home early-ish, then the husband sat in the sun with Son#3 who has been especially rebellious the last few days, and I sat on the couch, reading.
Bliss.
The problem is, I'm so tired I can't really think very straight, and I need to sleep.
Very.  Much.  So.
I snap at everyone and everything, but that's hardly surprising with my current level of tiredness.
The boys feel this with their Exhausted Mother homing devices, and boy oh boy, do they have fun with it.
Son#1 spent almost an hour in his room just this afternoon for that big back-chatting mouth he sometimes pulls out, and then almost climbed out of his 3rd story window (!!!) to pull off the lead sleeves under his window.
Son#2 fought with the husband and came home in a crying huff.
Son#3 is cute but turns towards the Dark Side in a flash.
Just knowing about all the bloody defiance ahead with Son#3, makes me flustered and angry.
Sigh. 

I guess you can surmise that our brains are tired and confused, and short circuit every now and then.
Tomorrow I'll check my emails, do some of my work, but not tonight.
I'm just glad I learned something new today.

Good night, world.
Sleep well.


.

Oh dear, oh dear

It's been BUSY around our house and at work.
I'm not sleeping much - another cold/flu/bug has me in its grip and with my cracked rib, nighttime is now, shall we say, interesting.

At work, I'm a monster.
I'm chucking students off study programmes left, right and center  and the clarity is gives me (no more worrying:  shall I, shan't I?) is sublime.
You don't pitch up, you don't get to stay.

Another colleague also has a burn-out now, and I've taken over some of her work.

I had an altercation with the director's uber-important assistant this morning who spoke to me unkindly in front of many colleagues.
A swift email from me, addressed to all and sundry:  Don't speak to me like that.
She came to apologize.
Sigh.
Sometimes I think us humans are just like dogs:  A dog gives corrective nips and bites to put the others into their place - and if they don't bite back, that dog will become the Head Honcho.
You should never let people speak to you unkindly - because it would cause frustration and anger at myself, and no-one is worth that.

But now it's the end of another very busy day already, and home, husband and kids are calling me.
To bed early tonight, and tomorrow, simply nothing.



.

All the places we belong (or not)

Please excuse the odd photo - there is something distinctly wrong with my phone's camera.
This happens when one buys the cheapest stuff available, I guess.
But the message is clear:  We either belong somewhere, or we're being excluded.

It was odd to see this - really see this - for the first time in action at Son#2's birthday party on Wednesday.
The kids would form groups and stake their territory (e.g. the enormous jumping castle in that indoor play hell), going so far as to push each other off the thing.

And so it is with the magnificent hut Son#1 and Friends built in our garden with all the branches the husband had sawn off.
Someone was part of the group - someone with a name starting with D - but then excluded again.
Kids can be so cruel.
Us Adults do it more subtly - sometimes, but not always.

I'm off to a rugby match and screwing up their coffee machines and cash registers.
Let the games begin.


.

C'est Le Weekend: A Case of Fortitude

Son#2, #3 and I are home today.  
Son#2 is pooped - evident in his evil behaviour and responses at the moment, and I have to admit that I'm quite surprised that he doesn't foam at the mouth and roll his eyes when he speaks.
God knows I love him to bits and will fight for him and his good character all my life, but his attitude is shocking.
I don't know what bugs the little man, except of course for the stomach bug he still has.
Sigh.

Meanwhile, Son#3 isn't much better off either - his flu still lingers with swollen eardrums and glands, the daily fever occurrence.
I think we need sun and heat.

I've been having lots of meetings at work, lots of fights with students who plagiarise anything and everything they can get - a kind of 'finders keepers'-attitude.
And I find - luckily - that my stress levels have definitely gone down.
I'm far away from the sweaty, heart palpitated mess that I was last year.
I'm turning into a bit of a pitbull, and it actually feels good.
Who would have thought??
My doormat-personality only brought me strife, and if I can end up somewhere between a doormat and a full-on pitbull, I'll be chuffed as can be.

Now coffee and breakfast.
Tomorrow I'm helping out in the bar of Son#1's rugby clubhouse, but I'm already a wee worried about operating the cash register and the coffee machine which is apparently very complicated.

.

Let the Midnight special shine her light on me

I've been up since midnight.
Son#2 had stomach aches, then pulled his tooth out and came to show me the prize, fiddled with the nightlight-on-a-timer that goes on when it's time to get up (and not a blooming moment sooner!!!), woke his brother, I threatened violence, and then Son#3 was awake.
Paracetomol.
By 6h45 this morning, I kicked the husband out.
Motherhood done for the day.
Check. 

 
The oh-so-very-sad-part is that Son#2 has his birthday party this afternoon.
In one of those nasty, full colour, loud indoor joints.
Where children scream...
The husband and I will be in charge of 11 kids, not counting ourselves.
Oh dear.

 


.

Remember

Sharks are born swimming.

I had a tough no-sleep-weekend, with Son#2 and #3 both sick but shipped off to school.

I cleaned appliances:  the tumble dryer, washing machine and dishwasher.

What's wrong with me?
Mentally ill?

Yesterday I had a faculty meeting and realized that I can be quite manipulative in getting my agenda on the table.

I also realized that I'll have to stop giving a crap about what others might think of me, if I'm to live a happy life.

I snuck out of the meeting (an all-day-affair) before I could get any additional insights.

The husband woke up in a funk this morning and then the boy at the car wash broke my old volvo's antenna.  Will take effort to get it fixed and I'm broke.

Broke.

But back to my point:

Sharks are born swimming.

It's like walking into a fight with fists already swinging, instead of passively waiting for someone to throw out the first punch.

Not that I want to punch anyone.

Yet.

.

Prickly pear

The husband has a reunion of sorts with friends-from-university this evening in Maastricht, and will sleep at a wealthy alpha-male-type friend's apartment in a chateau.
The friends are all wealthy captains of industry (but lead infinitely unexciting lives).


I'm so sick of money and the supposed worth it assigns to your life.
Lots of money = worthwhile person; poor sod = not much use to anybody.
Sigh.

I once had the great honour to hold a man's hand as he lay dying on the pavement after being hit by a car.
We were in a restaurant for a friend's birthday, and ran out when we heard the car slamming this man down (and then driving off).
He died there as I held his hand. 
Understandably, I was upset and wanted to go home - no more party spirit in me - when a no-longer-my-friend turned to me and told me it was better that way, that this man had no money (he was a car guard - often the down-on-their-luck people in South Africa, you pay them a small fee to look after your car).
As if that should make a difference. 
I never saw the ' friend' again, thank goodness.
My disappointment in her was so great, I just couldn't stand the sight of her again.
But she did me a great service in retrospect.
I learned something valuable about being alive, about real friendships and the value I attach to life.  

Back to the now, Son#2 vomitted us out of bed this morning, some stomach bug has him lying around and feeling awful.
As I write, he's lying on my bed watching Toy Story for the gazillionth time, tucked up in a blanket.  
Son#1 is in summer gear, cycling around the village gathering his friends in shorts and t-shirt.
Strange child.


I'm hoping I'll be nice until evening draws us closer to our beds again.
I seem to have energy for lots of things today, but cleaning up and looking after the kids aren't on my list.  

C'est Le Weekend: We fall asleep

The week has been somewhat hectic and stressful.
First my mother's visa application, then just the mere fact that I have to entertain Son#1 and #2, break up fights, feed them, clothe them, the constant, incessant correction all the time...
Son#1 has been his own self-igniting rocket, burning himself out with his show-off antics and limit-seeking behaviour.
Son#2 has screaming tantrums on the street, throwing his bike down and running away.
The tantrums continue inside, too.
Anything can set him off. 
Anything.
Son#3 just does whatever the hell his brothers are doing.

In the meantime, I've had little sleep.  
Inexplicably little.

Son#1 had a girl who came for a sleep-over at our house last night, got terribly homesick, so that the husband took her home at 10 p.m. 
Poor bunny.
The boys were so terribly busy and freaky-high-energied, and I got angry a few times.
I'm afraid this girl will think I'm a tyrant freak, and will most probably tell her mother, who will then tell the entire village.
The locals may start picketing for us to bugger off after my tired and cranky behaviour last night.
Sigh.
I was typing assignments until the wee hours, and then slept.
Energy just escapes me, and I'm sure that if I start walking or running again, it will improve, but I can't muster the energy it will take (or suck from me) to do this.
Besides, I have a cracked rib from all my coughing.
It hurts like hell when I move.

Today, we'll dump the sleep-over-friend's bike off early at her house, then rest.
Swimming lessons, rugby.
Weekend.

On Monday, the schools will start again (cue mercy from the gods), but I'm going back to work too, and that sucks.

 .

It is what it is

.

To Leiden

So we went to Leiden, to Naturalis, just Son#1 and #2 and I.

We ended up spending almost 5 hours there and returned home, sated and happy after a quick stop at Delft's Ikea to eat ice creams.

Happy to say my kids are great.

Today we're hanging around waiting for the carnaval procession to start here in the village.

We've been eating popcorn, watching TV and I've been studying.

 

But then the best news of the day, is that my mom got her visa.

Grateful!!

Yahooooo!!

Let the games begin!

Tonight she travels back to Port Elizabeth, after spending a glorious day in Cape Town.

Oh, to live in Cape Town again.

Who knows, who knows.

 

 

.

Perhaps

But what is left for us to do anyway?

Between birth and death, there is a myriad of hopes, people to love, breaths to be inhaled, thoughts to be thought.

Last night, as I read Jip & Janneke stories to Son#3 who was well-chuffed with falling into the big-boys-who-can-handle-bedtime-stories category, I could only look at his happy face and love him. 

Love him.

Despite his naughtiness of the day (plucking paintings off walls, tipping out containers full of toys, repeatedly, daily pulling cushions off couches).

And the same goes for Son#2 - also naughty in his Spiderman suit, and Son#1 who stayed in his pajamas all day playing computer games.

The husband, also loved, who sawed off tree branches and played with blocks together with Son#2 and #3.

They all whine and throw tantrums but I get kissed and hugged so many times a day, I'm sometimes astounded that someone actually loves me of all damn people.

My mother, on her way to Cape Town as I write, taking the reins and not falling into a state of paralysis like her daughter.

My brave mother.

My rendition of living loud, wide and tall is a quiet, toned-down version.

But it's beautiful.

It's a Carnaval out there

Here in the southern part of the Nether Lands, it's Carnaval again.
The time of year where we spend exorbitant amounts of money on silly suits and all the shops are closed, because the local population, far and wide, is too bloody drunk to work.
Well, theoretically.

This year, a budget-friendly carnaval.
Son#2 got a new Spiderman suit, his Superman suit was too riddled with holes and far too small.
Son#1 got a new black t-shirt, and went as Batman with an old cape we had in the house.
This was quickly dumped at school, being deemed too childish by the kids in class.
Son#3, thank God, has hand-me-downs and refuses to wear silly suits anyway.
Sigh.

We've been quietly busy.
The weather is glorious, the husband worked in the garden, and I have a strange energy to start cleaning stuff.
Not that I'm acting on it, but the intention is there.

Son#1 and #2 are off school this week, and we need somewhere to go.
Somewhere free.
Decisions, decisions. 

My mother is traveling to Cape Town tonight, sleeping in a hotel tomorrow and back again on Wednesday.
A fervent hope that all her documents will be accepted so she can come visit us.
We need to be together.
Yesterday marked 4 months since my father passed away.  
Only 4 months.
And I needn't mention it I think, but I will anyway:  It is still not real.
Will never be.


.