Writing out a list, asking hubs and the boy what should be added, then asking who would do each task certainly worked! I still spent more time working over the weekend, however my husband took charge of a few major tasks – although he downgraded some – and my son joined in.
For some reason, the first major thing I tackled over the weekend was my son’s room. I had it down as an ‘optional’ task as it doesn’t impact the dogsitters, but his room has been a pitt of untidiness for a long time. Somehow we managed to get it into some sort of order before noon on Saturday.
The dogsitters arrive on Thursday evening, and we fly out Friday morning. To complicate matters I have house guests from Tuesday to Thursday, but I’ll get through it. Perhaps without as much perfection as I’d like, but through it I will get!
In 2 weeks from right now I should be on the road between Christchurch and Dunedin; we’re off on more adventures – this time to New Zealand.
I’ve spent the weekend trying to do All the Things* while berating myself for not being able to do All the Things (because that’s impossible). My husband spent the weekend looking at his tablet and socialising. Sigh.
I do all the planning and organising; he simply isn’t built for it. I should be better about giving him lists of tasks to do. He’d probably do them quite happily, however somehow it feels bitchy. I should get over that.
Trying to see the good side of all this, I doubt I would have my darling Little Spark if I wasn’t this sort of person. I learned a lot about being a patient: you need to keep records, question things, ask about different procedures or options, stay informed. If I hadn’t told my FS that I thought it was time to look at egg donation, I think he would have just stimmed me forever. I got us there.
Just as sometimes in the middle of the frustrations of having a 5 year old I need to paused and wonder at what a wonderful thing it is to be experiencing those frustrations, I need to remind myself that feeling overwhelmed organising a trip is a wonderful thing – because we’re going on a trip. New adventures await.
*I miss Hyperbole and a Half. She’s wonderful. I hope she is doing something fulfilling and finding some happiness.
My inspiration for actually getting posts up is often fuelled by MicroBlog Monday at http://www.stirrup-queens.com/. Join in!
I have been quiet because my laptop died. It died a sudden and complete death. Luckily, Mel’s reminders meant that I had backed up recently so I don’t think I lost much.
However now I need to purchase a new computer. I hate pecking away on devices, so I’ve been completely silent here. And there are so many priorities above getting a new computer as it feels like a selfish purchase when I do have a tablet and phone.
So I wait. But please, PLEASE, do a backup. Don’t have regrets.
No – not that kind of rich or thin.
Over 9 years ago now – HOW?! – my beautiful dog died suddenly of kidney cancer. This was in the middle of failed cycles (7 stim and 3 thaw at that point), happened suddenly, and coping was difficult. One of my strategies at the time was to teach myself to knit. I knitted a scarf and hat for my husband. They took forever, but they weren’t bad. And it was a good strategy. I was concentrating hard on what I was doing, so gave my brain a break from grieving.
After Blobby had died but my friend whose baby was due the day after he should have been born was thriving, for some reason I took up quilting. I lost myself in trying to figure out the measurements and colours – and used it as a way to make her a gift that I hoped said ‘it’s not ok, but of course it’s ok’. She understood.
I’ve kept at both crafts and have increased my skills a lot. These are of course on top of other things I like to do to occupy my time, such as photography, gardening, etc and now of course being Sparky’s mum.
I’m using this rich selection of pursuits to try to ‘drown my sorrows’, however I need to rethink my approach. I constantly have too many projects on the go, and I’m spreading myself too thin. I think I’m cluttering my day and becoming addicted to not having any down time. While this used to not give me space to let evil thoughts in (this doesn’t work any more), it also leaves no space to just be.
So I’m trying to organise my time and try to bring some balance. I love all of the things I do, but in order to enjoy them more I need to step back. Prioritise. Put myself and my enjoyment of them into the centre rather than an ever growing project list driving me. I can’t spread myself so thin that I’m at breaking point any more.
This post is inspired by Mel’s Microblog Mondays #85. Join in!
Oh why oh why did I blog about having one perfect day? Why did I open my window wide and practically call out for Nemesis to fly in?!
At school drop-off a week or two ago Sparky’s teacher let me know that he’d been a bit naughty at school lately – not listening to adults, doing things that require at least one time out per day. And this after an exhausting weekend that had been hard as he’d been especially demanding, i.e. probably the home version of this behaviour. Sigh.
It’s like a kick in the guts. He was perfect when he was born. So perfect. And I’d gone through so much to have him. What is this now – normal, or have I ruined him before he’s even 5? Yeah I know, silly, but it is where my brain goes.
I wish I could be the oue to have time outs. I’d use them wisely, i.e. drink and sleep.
This post is inspired by Stirrup Queen’s MicroBlog Mondays 81.
Through those long years of treatments I hoped that if I finally had a child I would be a great mum. Actually, I expected it of myself. All of this waiting and pain would ensure that I didn’t take a day for granted and that I would always be patient, loving, and present.
I was on a lot of drugs at the time, most of them hormones, so obviously I was delusional.
Being a mum after IVF et al is, unfortunately, less like being SuperMum and more like being a mortal human. You know, the sort who gets tired, who doesn’t like being ordered around by a tiny tyrant, and who sometimes would like to go to the toilet alone. I know, I know – when I was doing treatment I would have loved to have had not just my dog as an audience while I urinate but also my offspring, but I’ve gone all soft. Most days feel more like a struggle than something worth having wished for for so long.
But last week I had A Day. A Magical Day. Maybe not a perfect day, but a day that gives me hope that maybe I’m not as bad at this thing as I’ve been telling myself.
It was one of those very RARE days when parenting looked almost like I imagined it would before becoming a parent. We went to playgroup at the park in the morning so Sparky could ignore lots of colourful and creative activities to instead play in the bushes with his friend and fall out of a tree. Then we went home to bake biscuits together without either of us getting too frustrated. (Sparky did wander off after the first batch, but that’s probably what kept it civilised.)
Sure, Sparky wouldn’t have a nap, so by the time my husband came home I was ready to hide by myself in my sewing room and not talk to anyone. But the majority of that day was good.
Maybe I am worthy of this tiny human.
This post is inspired by Stirrup Queen’s Microblog Mondays.
I have a couple posts in my drafts folder about the fact I’ll never be able to try for another child. They’re too painful and will probably never be published. Let’s not talk about it.
I’ve read a few posts from people about the pain of not having another child. It feels like a horrible thing to mention when so many others are struggling to have one living child or have given up the dream of having one.
However this is real pain. I’m sorry to say it; it feels selfish to say it is. As much as I hated the stupid IVF torture, I miss the microscopic bit of hope that comes with it.