Ex Pat's super language skills

Blogspot has decided I am Korean. Or perhaps Thai. Or at least, some strange oriental language which does not strike me as either Mandarin or Japanese, but then, what would I know? Any attempts to enter my blog were met with a warm welcome and instructions in said oriental script. Well, it might have been Klingon. And it might not have been that warm a welcome.

Some 20 minutes later, deleting all cookies, history, temporary internet pages to no avail. Deleting all said again including "all offline content" whatever that may include and here I am. Back in English.

It is a pleasant 8.20am. Boy still sleeps and I haven't seen him since 9pm last night. Well, not strictly true, because I did pop in to make sure he was still breathing. I've been up since 7am, not through choice, but hubby had work at 8am and I had my usual cricket ball problem. But hey, it sure is nice to have some time to myself before pupo begins his demands. Hubby is still giving a midnight bottle feed and pupo is sleeping through all the time now :) Che piacere! (just showing off those language skills. And no, that wasn't Klingon. Nor Thai for that matter.) All I need now is for my breasts to appreciate a long lie as much as my brain.

Meanwhile, tendonitis improving (following a beating by the physiotherapist). Snow has come. Skiing to follow.

Sleeping through!

4 nights of the last 5; and the other he had a mixed up routine, 'cause I went out and daddy gave him a slightly different feeding pattern. Can't be coincidence. Much surprise and delight all round.
Tendonitis is a killer; begged doc for an injection on Friday and got acupuncture instead. And it HURT, don't believe the propaganda. And it didn't work. Seeing a physiotherapist on Monday and hoping for some miracle cure. Not allowed pills because of boy. Can't really type either, so no more news from me today.

But boy is well and sleeping, hurrah, hurrah! (My boobs, however, have yet to learn this new routine, and turn into cricket balls overnight.)

What news?

Well, none really. Been waiting to have something worth blogging but the week has been as without incident as is possible with a little boy. We went to the mummy morning at the church; mastitis is beat; nappy rash is under control; tendonitis in my neck is dreadful.
Yesteday I went out for a cycle for the first time in over 2 years. This is the same woman who used to cycle up University Avenue in Toronto - not only one of the busiest roads in Canada but one which is very steep indeed. I went along the fjord where all is flat. I lasted about 6km then came back, completely exhausted. Slept like a baby, however :)
People are talking about Christmas. Hubby is making up his list. Mummy is perplexed - it's not even snowing yet.

So, that's it chez nous. Not much to report this week. Which is probably a good thing.

Be careful what you wish for

So, I got my day in bed. My day off, only getting up to feed. Well, apart from a quick trip to the hospital.

Pupo's bum is better; mummy gets mastitis. nasty nasty, very painful, very sick. For those who don't know, mastitis is caused by a blockage in the breast which hurts like you wouldn't believe. In case that weren't enough to get your attention and encourage you to remove said blockage, it is accompanied by flu symptoms. Hence, bed for me, and trip to hospital to try to empty the breast, 'cause I couldn't do it at home.

Pupo appears to be having another growth spurt. At least, he has consumed 3 times his own bodyweight in the last 24 hours.

At least I was considerate enough to get sick on a Friday night so hubby was around to look after pupo.

He needs ME. ME ME ME!!!

Normally, hubby gives pupo the late night feed and I get up about 4 or 5 to feed him again. I've been meaning to wean him off this early feed, but for now, it is an opportunity to change the nappy so I'm waiting for the nappy rash to clear up completely first. But last night, I wanted to watch something late on tv (too ashamed to admit what it was) so we swapped. I fed pupo about 1230 and put him to bed. Pupo woke, predictably, shortly after 5am and hubby got kicked out to go see to it. He had his usual wail on the changing table (he hates having to wait for his milk) but then continued to cry for 40 minutes. Didn't affect his appetite, however, as by the time I had given up and crawled out of bed to see what the fuss was about, the bottle was nearly empty. When he had finished the bottle, I took him and put him on the breast where he munched away for 10 minutes without stopping for breath (let alone a greet) and only stopped 'cause after he threw up all over my breast (charming, these delights of parenthood), I decided enough was enough. He looked me right in the eye and beamed. Beamed and beamed. If he'd smiled anymore his face would have split in two.

It may have been 5am (nearly 6 by this point) but oh, it felt good :) The ungrateful little sod has finally realised that I exist and, moreover, that he needs me :)

oooo, it makes me mad!

Just got a banner ad for me to donate cash to the richest country in the world so they can hire lots of consultants from Halliburton to manage projects to tidy up after a hurricane of which they had plenty notice. Now, I consider myself a decent global citizen and I do contribute to charity. But I object to being asked for cash so that the richest country in the World can keep their taxes low and their poor poor. I have great sympathy for the victims of this hurricane, especially those who did not have a car or are mobility impaired or simply had nowhere to go. I have no sympathy for a Government that can find billions for military contracts and not millions to repair the homes of poor civilians.
It seems Ms Katrina did what certain hijackers failed to do. Quite ironic, really. This was a natural disaster for which, whilst notice was given, noone can be considered directly to blame (unless we go round the long route of carbon emissions, etc., in which case every car owning person might be blamed.) Yet, after glaring intelligence failures and a quite deliberate attack, noone dared be so unpatriotic.

Ah, 'tis a strange country. God bless Europe!

Well, surprise, surprise

Saturday comes and I manage to write my book review in record time. The day is fine and pupo's butt looks better. We all end up going to the lake, hubby gets on boat, I change pupo on the floor of a freezing toilet, I feed pupo, the weather turns cold quickly, pupo is unhappy, mum and pupo come home. Saturday evening, we are NOT going for dinner, pupo's bum is a little red again and I want him left to air; he has also had a big day already. What happens? We go for dinner, mum changes pupo on the floor, looks after pupo, feeds pupo. Hubby enjoys his tea and doesn't stop talking and drinking for 3 seconds to glance in his direction. Hubby eventually comes home after I insist (and insist and insist).
Sunday, nappy rash is dreadful again, one screaming child, one mum amazingly finding herself doing most of the changing and all of the worrying. One complacent hubby who thinks it is "fine" and that he is just crying for attention. One bottom that is so raw it actually bleeds in one spot.

Monday, oh, I can't even begin to describe Monday. We see the nurse tomorrow and maybe she'll have some miracle cure.

I need my day off!

This week we have had an epic battle with nappy rash. Actually, it started the end of last week, got better over the weekend, then came back with a vengeance. One endlessly screaming child who poos at least 12 times a day, plus lots of "unlucky farts" in between. One very frazzled mother. Both housebound as pupo has to have a naked bum as much as possible. I haven't had a day off for soooo long as last weekend, hubby was driving our visitors around and the weekend before went off to pick mushrooms and the following day helped his friend set up a party. When I say a day off, I don't actually mean a day off. I really mean a day when hubby and I do "half and half." Normally I wouldn't mind but this with the nappy rash, it's all got a bit much and I'm ashamed to admit I am looking forward very much to hubby coming home from work to take over.

So, tomorrow, I get my long promised "day off" and I have informed hubby that I will be available for feeding but he must do the rest because I need my day off to work. I need to write a book review, for which I volunteered long before boy got nappy rash. I really want to do it, too, as it is an interesting book. It's on the European constituion. No, honestly, it IS interesting. I only need to write 500 words, but it does require some concentration.

So hubby phones to say shall we all go to a lake tomorrow and go fishing? Given that it is highly unlikely that pupo has the manual dexterity to hold a rod and given that same pupo needs to be near me to get fed (he can't even take a bottle to the lake, 'cause there is nowhere to keep it cold), what he really means is can HE go fishing with his friends. NO NO NO NO NO you bloody cannot. I have to write my book review. I am at the end of my tether wiping this boy's butt 200 times a day and listening to him scream for hours at a time. You will look after your child this Saturday. End Of Conversation.

Thankfully, the nappy rash seems to be under control. Or at least, yesterday, it looked under control; today his cheeks are red, so God only knows what we are meant to do as we have tried everything.

I don't know how to keep this boy clean. I'm exhausted and frustrated because I can't get out of the house. I love him to bits; I just want his butt to get better. Fast.

Yet, I know I should count my blessings 'cause after all, I still have a relatively healhty and happy little boy and I wouldn't swap that for anything.