#684 My little doctor

I was in a ‘zone’ – a zone to clean the house as deeply and thoroughly as I could.

The house has not had a proper clean since the kitchen renovations started, so I was really keen.

I walked from the bathroom to the laundry with an arm-full of cleaning products. Because of this, and also, because of SmikG clumsiness, my protruding elbow collided with the handle of the door.

“Ahhh!” I gasped, half-wheezing, half-shrieking, throwing the products onto the nearby bench so I could clutch at my elbow. The impact had sent shock waves into my bone, and it was reverberating, there were pins and needles, and deep, deep agony. I rubbed it wildly, trying to get a grip of myself, but the sounds still came out.

“OW! Oh oh oh, ouch, ohhhhhhh!”

I knew what would come as soon as I became vocal, and sure enough in amongst my canine-like yelping, came the sound of small running footsteps.

Thud thud thud thud thud.

Baby girl flew past the laundry door, before coming to a halt and backtracking when she saw where I was. She came over quickly and looked up at me all wide-eyed as I held my elbow, grimacing.

“Mama you ok?”

“Oh, Mama hurt her elbow very bad, it hurts!”

She held my arm and kissed it once, looking up at me all patiently and calmly, full of love, the way I look at her when I am trying to calm her down.

“Feel better?”

“Oh, a little bit. Here kiss it some more.” She immediately obeyed and planted more sweet kisses on my elbow.

“Oh honey, that’s much better, thank you so much my darling.” It still hurt like hell, but my heart was now brimming with love and joy, and that kind of outweighed that pesky elbow pain 😉

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#665 and a half – Tube slide

The best part of my day came today when I was plummeting down a hill… with baby girl.

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It was the tube slide at The Enchanted Maze, something I will be posting about over on my SmikG page in the near future.

It was crazy-fun. The kind of crazy fun where you have an absolute ball, and yet simultaneously think you might crap your pants when the slide flies down so fast you turn backwards and seriously consider the reality of the whole thing flipping on you.

We survived… so we will go again. 😉

Best fun with a toddler, EVER.

P.S… the reason for my incomplete blog number above? – my superstition about the inability to post the number that comes before 7 and after 5, three times… well now I realise, it may be why baby girl knocked herself only a record amount of three times today, scratches, bruises, crying and ALL. Not at the Maze though. The Maze only brought good times.

 

#640 Saved by the Family

“I’m f^&ked,” I wrote to Hubbie from work this morning. “Heads up.”

He knew what that meant. That meant I was going to come home later in the day, plonk myself on the couch, and moan about how much pain I was in.

And I did exactly that.

Baby girl assisted by sitting really close to me and telling me I was her best friend in the whole world, cradling my face from time to time, and saying every so often “yay, Mama home.”

Hubbie helped by cooking dinner and doing ALL the washing up.

Both HUGE things. I mean, love, attention, food and home maintenance… I should get sick more often, yeah?

NO. Most definitely, no.

Back to normal tomorrow please.

But it is nice to know, my loved ones have my back. ♄

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Photo by Daria Nepriakhina on Unsplash

 

#559 Done and Dusted Saturday

People all over the schooling/working world LOVE Saturdays. It is perhaps one of the most celebrated days of the week.

And yet for me, this glass half-full and gratitude gal, I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

And now that it is, I am now, finally grateful.

I worked. It was one of those days. And then stomach cramps and spasms thrown on top of it definitely didn’t help. But for me, my weekend begins sometime tomorrow, and after a good long sleep in, I know I will feel better.

Sometimes we just need to go to bed, and start again. So I am grateful for that. The end today, means a new beginning tomorrow…

#377 She performs ‘Magic’

Keep them young and carefree as long as you can. That is my underlying theme in raising kids.

They will have plenty of time to ‘adult’ later in life.

I don’t see any harm in letting them believe in an over-sized bunny that hops around leaving Chocolate eggs for Easter.

I don’t see any harm in letting them believe there is a fat man with a long white beard and white hair, who squeezes through your chimney/climbs through an open window, and after indulging in some carrots/cookies/milk, leaves you some much-desired gifts.

Let them even believe your little white lies “We have to go home NOW because the park is closing for lunch.”

“The beach is closing! See? It’s getting too cold so it’s closing.”

“If you splash in the bath too hard the spiders will come.”

But don’t even suggest the fantastical idea of boogeymen or scary things lurking under the bed. They definitely don’t exist, but if Santa and the Easter bunny are, this seems just as likely. Anything that leads to an interrupted nights sleep for your littlies, don’t EVEN. Don’t even go there.

Keep them naĂŻve. Innocent. Unknowing. Fresh. Keep them untainted.

Let them even believe, in MAGIC.

I started this a while back, when baby girl fell and hurt herself. She is fascinated with band-aids, but don’t try to put one on her! That is a worse-r hell than the injury she has sustained herself. Don’t even.

So I had to get creative. My forte. I love to imagine, and create, and send wild thoughts into the atmosphere.

“Mummy do Magic,” I had said to her. “Doo doo doo doo doo” like the sound of an old-school phone connecting, as I brought my lips close to her wound. I patted it with alternating hands in quick succession, letting out a “ch!” sound with a big blow, a big kiss and a dramatic pull-back of “Magic!”

She LOVED it.

Every time she was hurt or sore, Mummy had to do Magic. I’ve studied psychology. I know all about the placebo effect. I was fascinated to see the Magic actually working, like Magic I guess (!), on baby girl. Of course, anything serious and I wouldn’t even suggest something like that, I am a Mother, I DO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. A scrape requires Magic. Something more serious, a doctor.

Even if so, some ‘light Magic’ would help ease the woes on the drive over I’m sure.

Since all we are dealing with is little scrapes and bumps, Magic has been a saviour.

And then, when one day I was sore, she performed Magic, on ME.

Awwwww:)

She does it regularly and often now. She will perform Magic on herself. It’s like a self-help tool to assist her in moving on. And it actually helps: she does MOVE ON.

Tonight as I sat on the couch talking about how I wasn’t feeling the best, and how my lower back had been sore yesterday, she promptly finished up drinking her nightly milk, pushed me forward, and tinkled her fingers against my back.

“Doo doo doo doo doo” she went, kissed my back, and then went “Dash!”

Dash, is Magic.

Funnily enough, she has also extended this to when I am mad, and have road rage. I am a much calmer person on the road with baby girl in my car, but still, I will say “what are you doing? Seriously? What a silly, silly person!”

“Can you drive? Come on, move it!”

“Mummy is very angry right now, there is a very cheeky driver on the road.”

And she’ll go “doo doo doo doo doo” a kiss, and “Dash!”

Problem fixed!

I find it hilarious that she does this on me, and in varying situations. She now actually believes that Magic will solve almost anything. Sometimes I will be unwell and I know I am incapable of moving on from it immediately, and when she does Magic, I think ‘how do I get out of this one? How do I fake being healthy again? For the sake of believing in Magic?’

But, it makes me smile… and for a moment I forget I am sick/sore… and I guess that’s kind of Magic in itself, isn’t it? 😉

 

 

#246 Declarations of love no.1

She was especially needy. She had knocked into too many things to count today, and then she had fallen over and scraped her fingers when the empty rubbish bin she was trying to push up the driveway slipped. Concrete against soft toddler hands. Blood and peeling skin. Crying and crying. Man my heart cried for her.

And now at the end of a trying day, she wrapped her arms around me, pressing our faces close together, side by side. Hubbie watched nearby, and asked smiling “do you love Mama?”

“Da,” she replied, squeezing me tighter.

Awwww. Love, love, love.

#201 Internet access at work

😉

So, people often are like “ugh, desk job.” I can see why the foul expression for it exists. Stuck in a dimly-lit office space, partitioned work spaces, windows visible only very far in the distance on the other side of the room, the advantage of their windows into the world given to the privileged individuals who feel the need to close the blinds on them constantly: rain, hail or shine.

The shine part is the one that hurts.

Air con that spreads coughs, colds and any other beautiful diseases that you can so do without. Also, keeps you at a frosty 4 degrees in Winter, 2 degrees in Summer.

Fighting over the food, fridge space, and microwave time in the kitchen. Signs on the 7 tubs of margarine in the communal fridges all read “keep away!” and other unidentified objects remain wrapped in plastic, slowly gathering frostbite and some other unsightly green form in the corner of the freezer.

And let’s not forget the HR complaints. Not for your colleagues, although you wish it were that easy. (No, the ‘foul’ ones receive special ‘interest’ and 15 strikes before they are politely escorted from the building with ALL their benefits, and then a box of wine too). HR is brought over constantly to deal with the damn chairs and consequent back/leg/arm complaints.

Sit straight, adjust your posture. Arms at this angle. Foot rests.

Now this is where things start to turn interesting.

Because of the common body ailments due to desk positioning and extended hours at the computer, you are advised to take short breaks. Often. Stretch your legs. Go for a walk. Have a chat to your colleague. I know people who stand while at their workstations still performing their duties; others stop to do exercises while their amused colleagues watch on by; and then there are those who take it upon themselves to take a ‘walk’ 7 times a workshift.

The downfalls brought on by the work desk, lead to deliciously get-out-of-work possibilities.

So too is it beautiful to have a computer in front of you. Albeit, one with good internet connection.

(Angels sing!)

Do you know what that means?  You can youtube. Send personal emails. Email your colleague, not even a metre from you, and smile in delight when they snort after opening that clip you just sent them of James Corden’s latest carpool karaoke. You hear their laugh as you ask ‘coffee time?’ with a pic of a cat sniffing at the caffeinated beverage, rugged up in a fluffy scarf and mittens.

You can google. EVERYTHING.

What do I eat tonight? Hmm let me look up my pantry ingredients…

That concert goes on sale next Tuesday, how much are the tickets?

What are the session times for the latest Bourne movie?

How do I catch a train from work to my cousin’s place?

THE POSSIBILITES ARE ENDLESS WHEN THE WORLD IS AT YOUR FINGERTIPS.

Do you know what I like to do with this master of technologies at my disposal?

Well of course, I will preface by saying I only do non-work related stuff during my lunch break…

(*coughbullshitcough*)

I email. I commbank. I used to realestate.com A LOT, before we purchased our Sea change home. I look up whatever it is I currently need to urgently look up.

Is a virus contagious?

Who is that actor in the midday movie and where have I seen him before?

What’s the difference between an oven and a cooker?

Melbourne weather tomorrow? Radar? Will it rain as I walk out of the building?

Lyrics to Free by Prince.

Which cinemas are showing The Secret Life of Pets?

Peter Alexander pjs.

and so on and so on.

But do you know the best reason why I love the internet and my computer access at work?

I can write.

I can have an affair with my writing, as per what Elizabeth Gilbert says in ‘Big Magic.’ I can type up 500 words in 10 minutes while sneaking looks over my shoulder. I can journal my private most innermost thoughts and then shoot a copy to my personal email for ‘later.’

And I can blog. I can write things that have inspired me in the last few minutes and hit ‘post’ for all to see.

I will take a desk job any day. Aches, pains, small kitchens, ungrateful window seaters, bacteria-spreading Antarctic air con, and so, so much more.

Desk jobs to writers, are what the sun’s rays are to Sunflowers.

Vital, necessary. Can’t turn away.