The Queen of Complications . . .

is so far complication free.



I know. Shocking.

It was touch and go for a long while on Monday to see if surgery was going ahead. I'd developed a cold the night before and felt . .well . . .damn awful. I had about 2 hours of broken, anxious sleep and rang the Dr straight away to check if it would be canceled. I was crying - panic, anxiety, fatigue and the thought that I wouldn't be able to do this after gearing up for it got to me. I couldn't even have coffee! I am NOT resilient without coffee.

At 9:45am we decided that even if we didn't have a final answer, we should head in. So the phone was diverted to the mobile and we started driving. Dr M finally rang - he was happy to go ahead but it depending on the anethetist. So I still wouldn't know until right before surgery if it was happening. Timing. I suck at it.

Dr Sleepy said he was ok to do the surgery so being fully dressed in surgical gear, IV'd and prepped, the decision was made to go ahead. I managed to catch up on some sleep during the GA and was oblivious to the fact that they had some difficulties with my lungs and debating cancelling.

Fortunately my body started behaving and it went ahead. There were some additional problems found and repaired but I was oblivious and feeling good. I'm happy. The thought that it would have to be postponed had stressed me. I would have had to take time off at the start of the school year, and would have had to cancel a trip Mini-me has been working towards all year. The thought of devistating her was unbearable so I'm glad.

Despite having a cold and experiencing the joy of coughing post stomach surgery, recovery has gone well. I'm in minimal pain. I'm not *touch wood* depressed but realise it could still be coming. I'm happy it was done and the idea of never having another period is mindblowingly awesome!!

I'm on the way back.

Panic with the Turtles

*Warning: The following post contains some not-so-nice (ie FUCKING AWFUL) topics and imagery. Do not read if you're feeling that you may be triggered by something within.

The boys have finally started swimming lessons. I'm really happy about this because the idea of owning a home with a pool with children who can't swim terrifies me. Plus, I know they'll enjoy it and it's a good, healthy sport. We can take them as a family and it's a good replacement for Mini-me for Karate which as we all know, I hate. Because there are the two of them, plus Mini-me, we really had to wait for an age where we could expect Mini-me to be ok while both Coparent and I were in the pool with the boys. So we're starting a bit late.

We had our 'assessment' done last week which went really well. Mini-Me completed hers first and happily showed off her skills. She was put in the 'Seal' class. Coparent and I each took a son and hopped in with them. It went ok. The instructor got an idea of what they could do (ie nothing) and they had a good time. Mr Cheeky threw a tantrum over leaving so it mustn't have been too bad!

So today comes the first official lesson. Mini-Me had hers first and enjoyed herself. I like her instructor who took the time to have a quick chat with me. The boys lesson, I did not enjoy.

Their instructor didn't want us in the pool. I cant understand why - she wants them to learn to do things by themselves. Mr Cheeky initially didn't like the idea of Coparent and I not getting in the water. He took about two seconds to get used to it then happily showed off his 'swimming' and did everything the instructor asked. He loves the water and I hope he stays that way.

Mr Smoochy is another story. He does not love the water. I think he feels the water is the suck. He has inherited his mothers slight fear* of the water. At one stage Mr Smoochy refused to even look his teacher in the eyes when she tried to get his attention. He was listening though and each new thing he tried, he took to once he'd gotten used to it. I did see a couple of very weak smiles occasionally.

Very occasionally. Because I couldn't watch.

I have a slight fear* of water. Which I desperately hope I don't share with the boys. But seeing them in the water, standing on a metal stand and having to rely on themselves to hold on sent me over the edge. They don't know to hold on. Mr Cheeky is a daredevil who thinks it's ok to get go and jump around. Mr Smoochy was just all-around not happy. I was on edge.

And then I tipped over.

I don't know why. Slight fear* combined with a healthy monthly dose of PMDD, a recent bout of Strep Throat and Scarlett Fever and general fatigue got the better of me. All of a sudden, I wasn't sitting in a chair in front of my children having a swimming lesson. I had images in my head of them dead in the water. I *knew* that my children were going to die. I could see them, drowned. I started to get hot and had trouble breathing. I knew rationally I was having a panic attack, but it's been so long I didn't see it coming.

I started to cry. Which set me further over the edge because now I was sitting, gripping onto a stupid plastic chair, trying not to fall over, trying to breath, crying in front of a pool filled with strangers, trying not to let Mini-mi, Mr Cheeky or Mr Smoochy see me upset. I knew in my head I was being irrational. I knew they were safe. But at the same time, I knew they weren't. And I didn't feel so safe myself.

I couldn't speak. Coparent could see me struggling but I knew even if I said the word 'panic' I'd lose it further.

So I sat there. Trying to get those images and thoughts out of my head. Trying to look anywhere except the water. The signs, the piping, outside. Anywhere but right in front of me. After much too long, I calmed myself enough to fake smile and pop on the 'pretend mask'.

They are in the Turtle class. They will be ok. And so will I, eventually. Although I am wondering what my GP will say if I turn up asking for Xanax for swimming lessons!



* Slight fear = irrational-oh-my-God-I'm-absolutely-terrified-for-my-life-whenever-I-get-near-deep-water fear. This includes pools, oceans, and even driving on bridges over water. Yeah, it is the suck.

I was brave

The fact is I'm not usually very brave when it comes to taking all three of the Triple J's out and about when I'm by myself. It scares me. For one, they outnumber me - never a good point to get to! Plus, the little ones have the road sense of a speedbump - ie happy to lie on the road and get smooshed by cars all day.

So I was a bit (ok, yes, I'm understating) worried about taking all three of them to a park near the beach. I thought about the potential hazards - the ocean, the road, falling from play equipment, running away in general in two to three different directions at a time. It was enough to make me shudder. A lot. If I could have wrapped them in safe, bubble wrapped, hazmat suits and sent them to play in a fenced dog park all day, I'd have been thrilled!

Having said that, they were WONDERFUL.

We had huge talks before leaving about following the rules. They knew if they went anywhere near the road or water, we would leave. If they ran away from me or refused to hold hands, we would leave. And they really, really didn't want to leave.

We got to meet up with some lovely friends and their children and we all (yep, even socially-introverted-to-start-with me!) had a fantastic time.

However, if you see a post on eb about any of the following activities, then that's us . . .

The kids ate hot chips. Oh the horror!
They all had lemonade icypoles! (Thanks again to M's other half for those!)
They played in the dirt and sand and loved it!
Mini-me spent a heap of time keeping an eye on her brothers so I could socialise (and yes, it cost me at the toy shop on the way home!)

And the best part of all . . .

The boys refused to use the toilets there. And really, after catching a whiff of stale urine when we opened the door, I didn't blame them. I personally hung on for dear life but given our 3-year-olds are toilet training that wouldn't do. So they peed. On a tree. In the park.

Lucky boys.

Catch up

I haven't posted much lately about the Triple J's, so here's a few snippets of late . . .

Conversation with Mr Cheeky today:

Mr C: *finds my mobile phone and picks it up* I need to call my friends Mummy
Me: Really? Which friends?
Mr C: Two friends Mummy *holds up two fingers*
Me: Which two friends?
Mr C: No, four friends *holds up four fingers*. No five *squishes his hand towards me*
Me: Who are you calling? What are their names?
Mr C: I don't know Mummy. Maybe just Santa.

It's going to be a long wait for Mr C until December 25th.

Mini-Me is going really well at the moment. She's enjoyed the last term at school and between her teacher and the Chaplain, has come a long way. She's looking forward to the holidays, as am I! She spent today making cards for Coparent and I, telling us how much she loves us. She then requested chocolate. Sentimental and a born negotiator - she's got talent!

And last but not least, Mr Smoochy. Who is becoming less smoochy as he becomes more and more the demanding toddler. Whist not as stubborn as his brother, he can still chuck an impressive tantrum as demonstrated this afternoon. Complete with leg stamping, arm flapping and head shaking drama. He did make up for it tonight though with a few smoochy kisses and squishy cuddles as he drifted off to sleep. He tried to be brave today and said he wanted a haircut and 'wouldn't cry this time Mummy'. Until he had the cape on and the clippers set to go -then he hyped up and we gave it up as a bad joke. Maybe the girly, long back style is in at kindy these days?!

Electrical Appliances are evil

Evil I tells ya!!

Now, I know some of you will be shocked but I have an admission to make. Some times, I can ever so slightly, be just a little, well, OCD.

Sadly my particular version of OCD had nothing to do with fastidiously cleaning. Or my bathroom wouldn't look the way it does and we wouldn't be currently running through the pros and cons of hiring a cleaning person!

I tend to be a little weird (hard to believe, I know!). A chronic insomniac, I can't sleep unless I am either holding the TV remote or know exactly where it is. It has to be on the bed - across the room just doesn't cut it for some reason. Plus, the TV has to be on.

Yes, yes I know. Oprah has gone on and on about the evils on TV's in the bedroom, but something has to go on in there and quite frankly, Oprah doesn't do it for me.

Oh and what's on the TV? It has to be good. Something I would want to watch. Otherwise I stay up shooting dagger looks at the TV for not entertaining me enough to sleep. Yes, as I said, weird.

So last week, I turned on the TV for it to shut itself off and give me the black screen of death. Mmmm. Not great.

Imagine my disgust when two days later, the TV (tiny, but still within my OCD guidelines) I replaced it with died in front of me. This one, which had lasted 20 years, turned itself off and refused to play again. Yes, two in a week. Don't tell anyone but I had to borrow Mini-me's for the night to get some sleep!

I have a brand spanking new one. 26 inch. Flatscreen. I'm in OCD heaven.

Although Coparent has strongly suggested I don't touch it and stay right away given my track record this week. Particularly after I simultaneously blew three energy saving light globes in the kitchen by flicking the switch.

The good, the bad and the motherf*cking ugly

Coparent and I haven't been on the LGBT 'scene' for many, many years but we always tried to make it to Pride Day. We missed last year due to illness so really wanted to go this year. I've always loved the idea of taking Mini-me to Pride. She's had the 'birds and bees' talk a few times and fully understands that sometimes girls fall in love with girls and boys fall in love with boys so I honestly didn't think it would be too confronting for her. I like the idea that she and her brothers will grow up to be open minded and accepting of others' sexualities. And her own - whatever that may be!

So off we went to Pride.

Firstly, the good. The boys had a great time! Lots of colour and puppies and fun! They both got bubble machines and icecream and spent a heap of time blowing bubbles at everyone around us (apologies to anyone who got unwillingly sprayed!). We and the kids also enjoyed watching the dog show, complete with a fully grown adult in a fox suit parading as a dog! Mini-Me had a go on the Clown game and won a small prize.

The Bad. Years ago everyone would wander around saying "Happy Pride Day". That seems to have left the building. I only heard myself say it! Secondly, it used to be free to be proud. Apparently pride comes at a cost now and that cost is $15 each per adult. Not that the $15 actually gets you anything - it just lets you in the gate so you can wander around and spend some more money!

The Motherf*cking ugly. We sat to eat icecream - and be covered in bubbles - for a while in the grassy area. Just after we sat down, a drag show came on. Not too much of a problem as we were up the back and the boys were oblivious. I don't think Mini-me cottoned on to the fact that the performer a) wasn't actually singing or b) was actually a dude. Until the second performer arrived. The conversation went like this . . .

Mini-Me: That girl looks like a man!
Me: She is a man. She's dressed up in women's clothes.
Mini-Me: Oh! ok.

Again, not really a problem. Until the third performer. This one had her own version of backing vocals that included language that would make a sailor blush. The F word, the S word and a heap of others I can't recall were broadcast for everyone's "enjoyment". Not long into the performance, the motherf*cker words were flying and we decided to leave. . .

Mini-Me: Mum, I don't think I want to hear those words.
Me: I agree. Let's go!

*sigh*. Perhaps I'm getting old (true). But when is it ok to use language like that at an event that you know may include children? I'm feeling almost guilty we took Mini-Me now and I'm honestly not sure I want to go again next year.

Karate

The word 'hate' is a very powerful word and I rarely use it. I can say however that I hate karate. Not so much the sport, but the experience for me.

Mini-me does karate twice a week. We signed her up for it as we thought it would be good for her and it has been. It's a sport that can increase her confidence and her social skills without being too confronting for her in that area. She can improve her coordination, which given that she's my daughter, certainly needs improving! She likes it.

I however hate it.

Twice a week (of course, on the days I have meetings and don't get to leave school early) we have the karate shuffle. I race out of school meetings and head over to kindy to collect the boys and Mini-me from after school care. It seems to take forever to bundle them all in the car while the child care worker is usually wanting to tell me stories about the boys not eating all of their food. Never mind that they have enough food to feed an entire karate squad. Those slices of ham that get played with seem to be a BIG DEAL for the girls at kindy. Given that they have just turned three and are well into size 4 clothing, I think they're fine.

Anyway, we finally get through the last minute toilet stops, the collection of shoes, jumpers, artwork and bags and spend at least five minutes trying to cajole the boys into sitting in their booster seats. Finally, we're on our way!

We race home and Mini-me races inside and gets changed into her karate suit. The boys stay with me in the car because quite frankly, after the effort it takes to get them in there once, there's no way I can repeat the process again! Mini-me usually dashes out quickly bringing with her some snacks I've left on the bench - anything not too messy in the car is fair game.

So we set off to karate. We drive about 10 minutes, usually with Mr Cheeky and Mr Smoochy screaming out to me the whole way. 'Mum, open dis.' 'Mum, what you doin?' 'Mum, I saw a truck!' 'Mum, that's my truck!' 'No Mum, it's my truck'. You get the idea. It's not a peaceful drive by any means.

Once we arrive, the fun really begins! All three of us trundle into the office to pay for Mini-me's lesson. During this time I try to keep my cool while both boys are madly running around screaming with glee at being out of the car. In fairness, Mini-me does try and help herd them back my way but it's not an easy task by any means!

After a lesson about 4 months ago, the boys are not welcome in the classroom any longer. One afternoon the trainer was extemely rude to me in front of all the students, parents and other instructors. She went off saying they had to leave as they were noisy and 'couldn't I control them?'. Two year old twins watching a group of older children run around apparently are expected to stay seated and silent. Apparently I am a crap parent as I couldn't manage them to do that during a warm up run. It was the proverbial straw that afternoon and poor coparent arrived to find me in tears sitting outside the room, trying desparately to keep both boys on my lap.

So Mini-me goes in by herself and I go back out to the car with the boys. In summer we used to go to the park and play I Spy or sing or play with balls but now it's dark and cold so we wait in the car. Coparent usually arrives about 10-15 minutes later and collects them from me. Damn it, but it's the most annoying 10-15 minutes of the day. They are crazy being cooped up. Last week was especially lovely when Mr Cheeky had an 'accident' of the poo kind and I had to try and change him in the passenger seat. Oh the joys!

Karate haven't helped the situation. When we signed her up, the lessons started at 6pm. Definitely doable. Then it got changed to 5:30pm which is when the fun begain. Plus the lessons were shortened to 45mins and the price went up. I sit there and seethe over how annoyed I am.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I end up feeling like I'm being a crap parent to all of them. I miss the first part of Mini-me's classes and the boys are shuffled along at every turn with no fun for them. Unless you count smearing food on their booster seats as fun. In which case, they're having a ball!!

But I do it. Because she loves it and I love her. But if you have any suggestions on how to do this better, by all means, let me know!

Because I really hate karate.