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From In A Hurry To Making Curry

Week 68


Do you hear that?

That is the sound of time.

Sweet sweet silent time.

Three hours of sweet sweet silent time in fact.

It is 8:30AM on Sunday morning, and Michael has taken Emily up the coast for a family gathering.

I probably should have gone, but…

Well but umm, I didn’t want to.

If I were well, I would have asked Michael to drop me at the local mall on his way so I could go shopping.

But that was an impossibility.

Not that I wanted to go anyway.

Well ok, part of me wanted to go with him, but a bigger part of me was overwhelmed by the long drive there and back. Not to mention all the people.

As so often happens, the idea of all that clinking cutlery and million voices were too much to bare thinking about. Let alone adding a throbbing foot to the mix.

I just couldn’t face being in an environment I am not particularly familiar with.

The last two weeks have been hell, and I am not sure how this next one is going to pan out.

Again I have been on this bad boy far too much this week, which is slowing the healing process to almost nothing.

At least I can weight bare this week, whereas last week forget it.

So after discussing it with my husband, and explaining how guilty I felt sending him alone, because what if Emily had a meltdown in the car, or they were in a car crash, as I have been dreaming about for days now – and by dreaming I mean waking up with a cold sweat and utterly afraid for all of us, we decided that it would be best I stay home and do what I really want to do, which is put my feet up and continue building our website.

Besides, we all know it is Little they want to see. Which is as it should be.

I married into my husband’s family late in comparison to the others, and I still feel as though I am getting to know them.

Which is also why I try not to think about which of them reads my blog, because if I did, then I wouldn’t write as openly as I do.

Putting this much crazy on the page takes courage I tell you.

I know that when my sissies or relatives read this, they hear my voice.

But obviously my in laws are a different story to my ancestors.

So sorry family, it is not that I don’t love you, but I will simply do it from a distance today.

A big happy birthday to Sally, and a kiss for everyone else.

We will catch up another time.

I am definitely better one on one with people than in big large groups.

Now the problem is, do I have another cup of coffee, do I talk to my girlfriends via messenger or on the phone, do I in fact work on the website like I have been planning, or do I sleep. As in, actually properly snuggle down for some lone time in our big comfortable bed type sleep without interruption or half an ear out for Little.

That girl has been in our bed again every night this week.

Oh honey, I know you are freezing, and I don’t know how to keep you warm apart from bringing you in with us. However, none of us are getting any proper sleep. At least not over the last few nights.

Which is also why I am worried about Michael driving alone.

Not that I can help him, but the guy is shagged.

My not being able to pick up the slack the way I usually do has really taken a toll on him.

Sorry honey.

Hang in there, I will be better soon.

This week’s post is brought to you by the letter mba. Whatever that means.

Bam bam is bottle, din din is either dinner, a snack, or her dummy depending on the context, didi is water, but only water from a certain bottle, not the other one, and gone, oh thank god gone is still gone.

Da is dance, adain is again, sha… is well umm, who knows what that is.

As for every other sentence, we have no idea.

Although on Thursday afternoon I have to give it to the girl, she did tell me quite clearly that she was going to tip her peas out, but I didn’t comprehend it until after the action.

I feel terrible when I cannot understand what she is saying, and it is clear as day to both of us that she is making an effort.

Michael is still convinced she cannot understand us.

I keep trying to explain that just because she doesn’t have the words doesn’t mean she doesn’t know the words.

I mean there are glimpses of words and phrases such as chair, there, all clean, down, out, gate, and pi for piano, but they do take some listening for.

Where are you going and what are you doing are still two of her favourite questions.

One of the biggest things I have noticed over the last two weeks is the shape of her hands and wrists have changed.

SO I wonder if the same can be said for her face?

Mind you, mummy will claim victory in terms of being the baby sleep whisperer this week.

We have been getting her down in under fifteen minutes.

You go Little.

She likes to hold hands to go to sleep at the moment. And that I can live with.

I simply sit on the floor next to her cot; she wraps her little hand around my index finger and puts herself to sleep.

Now I even find myself sitting there for half a minute longer just listening to her breathe.

It won’t always be like this, I remind myself.

It won’t always be like this.

It was so cold in the early hours of Monday morning that Michael simply brought Emily in with us.

So as is the new norm, there were three in the bed.

Oh my goodness we need a bigger bed.

I bet he wishes I had insisted on that king size one after all.

I know that he would have a conniption if I ever came home with a new bed before this one was absolutely dead in the arse. And keep in mind, his idea of dead in the arse is so much more deader than mine.

This is a man who will wear his clothes until they are threadbare, and keep his shoes until the soles are worn through.

While I lean on the side of I am so over it, let’s just get something new.

This is not to say he doesn’t appreciate nice things, but the poor guy doesn’t know how much he appreciates them until we have them.

Take for example our new outdoor setting courtesy of the neighbours.

It is definitely not something we would have chosen for ourselves, as it is way too curly for even Michael.

However, it is beautiful.

And as I write this, it has occurred to me, that because it is two sets which match, we can also configure it into one big square table, instead of the long Roman banquet style theme we have going on right now.

Woohoo! I love anything, which can be switched around and changed up like that.

However because we have not had a grown up setting since being here, and I don’t even think Michael had one where he lived previously, he didn’t know what he was missing.

This isn’t to say we haven’t loved our variety of bistro settings to death, but they aren’t exactly practical for spreading out upon. Let alone having people over.

Ok well in one sense they are, because it allows people to break off into smaller groups as they tend to like to do, but it doesn’t make for good eating.

But since acquiring this new set of rort iron white chairs with the yellow cushions, and the glass top tables, he has spent more time out there than I have known him to do in quite some time.

He even got back into the garden on the weekend, because he said that he wanted something lovely to look at while he worked, instead of something to fret over because he wasn’t taking care of it.

Like my mother in law, my husband loves his plants.

However, unlike my mother in law, he has let them go of late.

I can always tell when he is feeling low, because the plants suffer.

Who says you cannot tell a person’s mindset from their outer environment.

For myself, when I am on top of things everything is clean, tidy, and flowing.

Even down to my handbag or backpack.

But when it is not, that is a pretty strong indication of how cluttered I am feeling in my head.

I wasn’t due into work until lunchtime, so I took it easy in the morning.

Well, to be honest, I dragged my feet a little when it came to getting out of bed.

Not just because it was freezing, but I was afraid that this week would be just as horrible as the last.

And while a certain handsome husband keeps me stocked in coffee and toast, then why not.

In my defence, I didn’t just sit on Facebook, I finished off last week’s Blunder Weeks post, I had a quick scan through my emails, and over the business website, which finally finally is coming together.

Although up until Wednesday, when I woke up and knew it would simply just happen without too much effort on my part, I had still been extraordinarily stuck on those product descriptions.

In my mind, it was as if I needed the photos up so I could write.

Which is ridiculous.

And thankfully, after a year and a half of fretting, turned out not to be true at all.

Who knows what changed, seemingly over night, but obviously something had, because as of now, there up on a draft version of the website that only Michael and I can access.

So yippy yahoo for our future, and the future of the white cane as we know it.

However just as I had pulled it together, gotten up, washed my hair, dragged on some clothes, and was about to walk out the door, I received a call from my boss telling me to stay home.

But I put a bra on, I thought as I sat down with relief.

Yay, no work.

However, it was clear that Emily needed to get out of the house, so her and daddy went to the library, and left me to my own devices.

Therefore obviously there was nothing else for it, I removed said bra, cranked the air-conditioning up, spoke to Emma, my orientation and mobility instructor about not getting a dog, and the pending stupidity and unsustainability of the NDIS, messaged back and forth with my new friend Jess, got the blog up, and then cracked on with writing the various auto response emails which will need to be a part of the business.

Now all Michael needs to do is read them, spell check them, and approve their go ahead.

Who would have thought being on crutches would be so good for a girl’s creativity and productivity.

It was as if these things were writing themselves.

I wonder why I ever put them off, or thought they were too hard.

However, my bio still eludes me.

Along with the full company description, especially for LinkedIn. Although I think I have the Facebook one nailed, so go and check it out and tell me what you think.

I worry about my presentation though.

I really want this to be a seamless experience. But more importantly, I want it to be visually appealing.

I know to a sighted person who is not educated in such matters this may seem easy, or trivial, or unimportant considering my blindy market, but trust me, it matters.

In fact, that is where I think many blindness-orientated businesses go wrong.

Aesthetics make all the difference.

As in all the difference.

You may think it matters for a sighted person, but when one has limited vision, it is even more important.

Why should she waste her time on aesthetically cluttered or confusing experiences.

But on the same token, why should she have to put up with bland and boring visuals also?

We’re worth more…

People want to feel good about what they are interacting with, as well as what they are buying.

However, I am sick of hearing how others make it so easy.

I have no more words to explain how sending me a resource and telling me to pick a font, which matches the feel of my business, means virtually nothing to me.

How can I pick a suitably fabulous font when I cannot comprehend the difference between one and another?

I don’t know if curls look good, and are easy to read, or if fatty fatty blocky letters are better.

I am a shamed to confess, that for me, these are the kinds of details I have tripped over like little stumbling rocks on the entrepreneurial trail for years.

Sure, I understand that these choices cause most people to lose sleep at one point or another. But the part I have lost sleep over the most, is the not being able to convey what is in my brain on to the page, due to the tiny logistical fact of my physically not being able to interpret the options put before me.

What I want is for a magical elf to reach inside my head, understand the look, feel, and philosophy I am aiming for, and then translate that into something fabulous.

I know my husband understands, but he doesn’t have the skills to bring it to fruition.

One of the reasons I find it difficult to relate to entrepreneurial groups, is because on many levels they are not accessible.

Just as with many things really.

Such as the coffee guy not handing me my cup, even though he can see me standing not a foot away with my cane in one hand, and my fingers reaching blindly for the promise of warm caffeine.

It is as if there is a disconnect between his reality and mine, and never the two shall meet, even though in my head it would be so easy to include me in this interaction in a far more dignified and kindly way.

What I am saying is, not handing me my cup, when you are right there, and I am right there, is a form of unnecessary inaccessibility and exclusion.

And it so doesn’t have to be this way.

Often such well-intended mastermind collectives leave me feeling hopeless.

Mostly because I spend much of my time trying to explain to them why something isn’t accessible, and why it matters.

If I could see, this would be so easy, I end up thinking, which is why I initially join in, but it is pretty hard to play the game when the proverbial ball doesn’t have a bell in it.

And the stupid truth of the matter is, if it did, it would only enhance the game for everyone.

By late Monday afternoon, my brain had reached a dull point. Therefore, I went downstairs and rescued Emily from her unhappiness.

Michael had been doing his best to get the tax done while she scurried around his feet, but I don’t think he was having much luck.

I’ll take her, I had said cheerfully.

But you’re busy, he had replied.

I’m fine, I responded as I crawled over to her.

We had still been tiptoeing around one another, and everything was continuing to be a big long negotiation as part of the fallout from our misunderstanding I had created a few days before.

Meanwhile Emily and I spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out on the kitchen floor eating peas and corn.

She is such a chatterbox…

If only we could understand her.

This was followed by her having a nice warm bath, whereby daddy washed her hair and made her terribly upset, then we put her to bed.

Mind you, that was a struggle.

As was the rest of the night.

Have I mentioned that we need a bigger bed?

Michael says three queen beds pushed together ought to do it.

I’m going with a king in three separate rooms, so we can all have our own.

By Tuesday morning, I was out of the good pain relief.

Which on one hand was probably a good thing, but the fact that I walked on my foot the day before, and by Monday night, it ached like crazy again, it was probably not.

Painkillers mess with my head, and turn me into a grumpy bitch of sorts.

SO regardless of how I am feeling, I am probably better off without them.

Both Michael and I had received a crappy night’s rest due to one cutie cute cute cute also not having a good night, which resulted in each of us waking with a headache.

He gave me an extra half hour in bed before bringing up my coffee at 7:30AM.

I was already regretting my choice to go to work that afternoon, and spent much of the morning fretting about it inside my pretty little head.

The money the money, think of the money I told myself.

Michael didn’t know it, but I had already hit rent for the month, even without his contribution.

However, money management on a personal level in terms of saving and looking ahead is not his strong point, so I kept it to myself.

You know, for the good of the tribe.

We have some pretty big bills coming up, and it is always nice to pull a little something extra out from under my cloche hat when we need it.

It is almost as if we have a silent agreement about it.

We will both fret about it, but somehow we will find the finances somewhere.

Be it from an envelope of cash I have been slowly squirrelling away for the last six months, or a timely windfall from the universe, the last of a savings account, or in this case, all those extra hours I have been putting in at work.

Oh, thank God for those.

Yes they may have broken me, but oh thank God for those.

Which is why on Thursday night, when we were talking about the end of financial year, and how we were going to pay the accountant, etc., and he stressfully explained that he didn’t think we were going to make it, I was able to confidently respond with a yes we will.

It’ll be tight, I said, but we have this one covered. Although who knows how the next month is going to work out.

He visibly relaxed in response.

And I have to say, that was a nice feeling to see him breathe a sigh in relief. Because obviously it had been weighing on his mind also.

I love being able to provide for my family. I only wish I went about it in a better more prosperous and happy way for all concerned.

Sometimes I even have flashes of pride that I am the one going to work, and setting this kind of example for Little.

Women are strong, kind, and capable is what I think in those rare moments that I know I’ve got this.

Mummy has to go to work now, I say, even though I know she has no idea as to what that means. But at least I am consistant with my words, so she knows that work means mummy isn’t at home to play.

Like everyone, we are doing the best we can with what we have.

Obviously, this doesn’t mean I think staying at home is less than, if anything it is more.

Much more!

However, in my usual style, I want to be everything.

People keep telling me I should send Michael back to work, but I know he would never send me, which is why I don’t do it.

Not to mention neither of us are nearly ready to put Little in day care.

At this point I think we are almost having a race to see who turns grey with worry first.

I am sorry honey, I promise I will find a way to make it better.

You are doing an amazing job of looking after Emily and me at the moment.

Something will turn up.

Won’t it universe.

However still, I knew Tuesday’s work would be hard, and I really didn’t want to go.

I never want to go.

Good God, the hop in and back was going to be bad enough, let alone actually working.

It would be late by the time I got home, which of course meant I would have to navigate the darkness all over again.

At the moment I am working on the ridiculous premise desensitising myself to it, even though I know it is a pointless pot of rubbish to even try. But I don’t want to build it up into any more of a mountain than it already is, so I keep throwing myself at it like a dog chasing its tail.

The truth is, the only way it is going to get easier is if I can see better.

And what the hell is that going to take?

I know I cannot let this get the best of me, but there has to be another way.

What else you got universe?,,

The only thing, which motivated me, was the promise I knew I wouldn’t keep, which was to buy a ruby red lipstick for myself.

Because how on earth was I going to do that?

I can barely navigate Priceline or the make-up section at MYRE as it is, let alone find a sales chick I am willing to talk to about this most important of acquisitions.

But hey, a girl can dream.

Meanwhile I continued to work on the infrastructure of the business website, while Emily and Michael played outside in the yard, hung the washing out, and went to the park. When he returned we all sat in the sun while baby girl ate the contents of mummy’s lunch.

Why salmon and couscous tastes good out of mummy’s bowl, and never out of hers we don’t quite know, but whatever works.

By the time she handed it back, I wasn’t hungry.

I was nervous about what lay ahead.

As it was I felt physically shattered, and my day hadn’t truelly begun.

Slowly, and I mean snail’s pace slowly even for me on crutches, we made our way to the station. Stopping every ten or so metres so I could take a break.

My coordination was completely out, and I seemingly didn’t have the strength through my shoulders to keep lifting myself along.

Would an infinite being choose this, I kept questioning with every step.

Well of course, an infinite being could choose anything they wanted, I would reply to myself. So why not this.

Hmmm, so much for that little mindset trick, I thought as I stood once again huffing and puffing in the middle of the path while Michael called encouragement from up ahead.

He has learned that rather than telling me I can do this, it is far more effective to remind me I have plenty of time.

One of my biggest things in life is rushing hither and dither.

So when he says this, it calms me down, and I am able to get along far more efficiently.

Thanks honey.

We made it to the train with three minutes to spare, and as I sat in the empty carriage, I was too exhausted to even listen to music, a book, or checkout social media.

I made the couple of phone calls which were essential to my day, but even that was a struggle, as I couldn’t string two words together.

Plodding through the seventh circle of hell, known as the Queen Victoria Building was a special form of nightmare.

It was so crowded and busy, but I was too tired to care.

I simply put my head down, and kept moving. Apologising to anyone, which there were a lot, who got in my way.

I wasn’t wearing a backpack, and had my train ticket and phone in my pocket, which admittedly made things easier, but I was worried someone would simply reach in and take my belongings either without my knowledge, or that I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Work was busy, and I soon found that standing on my foot was unbearable.

In fact, so unbearable, that I think that afternoon alone has bought me another extra week on cruches.

Sorry Michael, I know this is going to make life harder for all of us.

As I was there, it felt akin as to being in a bad relationship with a boyfriend.

As in neither of us being in love, but staying together for the sake of it.

There is nothing left, I found myself saying as I stood in the staff room doorway.

I know it isn’t working out, but I am too afraid to break up.

I rang Michael and asked him if he knew the postcode for the universe, because I thought we should write it a letter.

He laughed, and told me about their afternoon.

I’ll have dinner ready for you when you get home, he had said.

Now don’t forget to text me so I can come and spy on you from the front entrance of our place, he continued.

You’re such a dirty old man, I replied in a teasing tone.

Hey, a man has to get what he can get, you know, he had joked in response.

But it felt good to know that he would be keeping an eye out for me as I stumbled home in the dark later that night.

He tells me, which completely blows my mind, that if he stands at the entrance, he can see all the way to the crossing. Which means he can see me pretty much from when I exit the station, to all the way home.

I had worn my bright red coat with the black buttons, to highlight my new hair. Partly because I thought it might help people see me better, and partly because I hadn’t given it any attention for a couple of years.

The problem is now, I don’t like it.

In fact, I don’t like any of my coats.

And coats, I have a lot.

Somehow the colour isn’t quite right, and nor is the cut.

But as for what I want, I cannot say, because I haven’t been shopping.

I am thinking maybe a deeper red A-line trench coat type thing is more the look I am after this year, rather than a classic knee length Paddington Bear type inspiration.

It was quiet on the train, which meant I didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of asking for a seat.

However due to my tiredness, I had tripped up the escalator with my cruches and landed heavily on my bad foot, then almost tripped down the stairs at the station, which caused me quite a scare.

Thanks to the gentleman who missed his train to walk with me.

I really appreciated your kindness.

I hope I didn’t make you late.

I arrived home earlier than I thought, and practically bowled my husband over with my enthusiasm to see him.

Here I am, I heard him call from across the park.

Here I come, I called back.

I was so happy to be reunited with him and know that he had, just as he had promised, kept an eye on me as I did indeed stumble home in the dark.

We both laughed as I followed his voice and only clipped one of those pesky green electricity boxes dotted alongside our footpath.

Maybe we won’t mention my eagerness to take a short cut and run into the shrub outside Townhouse 1.

Dinner filled my belly, and before I knew it, we were tucked up in bed.

I had planned to make the most of my alertness and do some more work on the business copy, but Michael seemed to need his sleep, so I just snuggled down with him and we spoke quietly until he began to snore.

Before I knew it, he was bringing an icicle baby and placing her between us, whereby she began to chatter away.

It was difficult not to answer her, because she was supposed to be asleep, but I somehow managed.

We got through to about 6:30AM when a certain cutie cute cute cute woke us up.

I could hear the tiredness in Michael’s voice, and felt for him as he dragged himself out of bed.

So much for the toys, we have recently set up in our room, because since having done that, Little has crawled off daddy’s side of the bed, and proceeded to destroy everything on his bedside table.

Whereas before we had set the shelves up, it was always mummy’s side she would hop down from.

I felt guilty about not getting up with her and leaving my husband sleep, as he obviously needed it, but with my foot, he is determined that I rest as much as possible.

I have the feeling that this is sort of similar to just after I had Little, I thought I could do more than I actually could, and was shocked to find that my body would not allow for such heroics.

Because at the moment, I am surprised when I fall asleep so quickly, or my foot pops in agony, or any number of restrictions make themselves known.

Today is the day for product descriptions, I thought with excitement before promptly falling back asleep and having stupid dreams for the next two hours.

However sure enough, after reawaken, and enjoying my morning coffee in the sunshine with my family, Michael and Emily went to the big park for a play, and I wrote blurb after blurb for our crazy canes.

It was as if I finally found my voice, and the voice of the brand.

I am yet to show them to anyone else, so we will see, but I hope they convey what we are aiming, which is not just a product, but a new way of being.

I know I have said it before, but I really thought setting this all up would be much easier than it has been.

I felt so lucky to be able to sit in the sun at our new outdoor table and power through some of the tasks, which I have been procrastinating about for what seems like forever.

Even though I am yet to see if they will yield a profit, it still felt good to be tackling the to do list.

Sometimes my brain would draw a blank, but for hours, I kept pushing through.

It wasn’t until after Michael and Emily had gotten home, and after we had enjoyed our lunch together, that my foot began to ache like crazy, and I retired back to the Manchester office with my legs up.

Meanwhile Michael and Emily went back to the little park beside our house, then came home again, did some chores, baby girl had a bath, dinner, and then we put her to bed

Even though it wasn’t a particularly taxing day, I thanked the universe with every fibre of my being that firstly, I didn’t have to go to work that day, secondly that it had been comparatively warm and sunny, thirdly that Michael had been his gracious patient self and practically done everything with Emily and the house, and lastly, that I could go to sleep.

Because again, I had no idea how to approach the next two days.

All I knew was that I would need all my energy to get through.

Sure, it wouldn’t be as tough as last week, but good God it was going to take me awfully close to the brink of beyond all over again.

Come on universe, I pleaded as I sat with my laptop on the lounge, and Michael told me one bad dad joke after another, what else you got?

I’ve changed my hair, I’ve changed my mind, and now I am ready for our life to follow suit, I thought as I tried not to smirk at his antics.

Most of the time his jokes are terrible, as in trade mark terrible. But occasionally he comes up with a good one.

However if I laugh, then that only encourages his word play, and then he gets a very big head.

I see you haven’t had enough adult conversation today, I say, after one particularly clever quip.

I missed you honey, he said, followed by another what do you get if…

He truelly is one hell of a man, and continually shows me new ways of being.

I can’t say I will ever be as easy going or mature in character as he is, but it sure is nice to have that kind of leading example walking beside me.

I mean if there is one thing he does well, besides honey soy chicken wings, sweet chilli pork, roast lamb and potatoes, it is to call me out on my shit.

Thanks honey, I owe you one.

Thursday morning arrived far too quickly, and neither of us was ready for it.

Sure, we may have reinstated our courtly tradition of reading a peace of poetry or provocative quote before saying goodnight, the way we used to do when we first met, and were lucky to see one another one night a week, but boy, oh boy as much as that stimulates the spirit, and it does little to refresh the body.

As we left for the station, Michael had asked if I had needed a jacket.

Nope, I had said, because it is a nice day, and it will be light still when I get home.

Is it ok if I don’t work late tonight, I asked.

I’m not sure I could face it, I continued, exhausted by the thought.

Of course, you can come home whenever you want, he had replied.

I don’t want you working late, he said with meaning.

Oh thank God, I thought.

Again, I was worried about money, but the walk home of an evening had done me in the previous week.

I don’t want you to work at all if you don’t have to honey, he suddenly said out of the blue.

This surprised me, because forever I have been under the impression that he has wanted me to work.

It turns out he only wants me to work because he thinks that is what I want, and because as he so often reminds me, it is the agreement we have always had.

I would work, and he would stay home with the baby.

I still struggle to reconcile my feelings on that, as I was so sure that it was what I wanted before having Little, but now?

Now I almost make myself wrong for changing my mind.

It is as if I have to be loyal to the idea.

Whereas we all know that with most of my pre-parenting promises, I am more than willing to let them go. So what is it about this one that I have the most trouble with?

Have a happy day baby girl, I called as I hopped on to the train.

Bending down to kiss, her on cruches is too hard when paired with the gazillion other actions, which need to take place for me to find myself safely on public transport.

All I can do is blow her a kiss, and hope she understands.

I don’t feel good about it, so I always give Michael 2, so he can pass one on.

As I hobbled into the building at work, I was surprised to find myself contemplating the stairs.

Yes all nine flights of hard arsed combat awesomeness.

However, I chose the lift.

It had taken me so long to make my way under the Queen Victoria Building, and I really wasn’t sure how I was going to tackle the rest of my day, but that fleeting thought, let me know that some part of me was kicking back into life.

I had to smile at myself as I exited the lift.

But then found myself stopped dead outside the door, because the idea of pressing the alarm code, and turning on the lights was again too much to process.

Hmmm, maybe I am not as well as I thought, I mused as I considered my options.

I could just sit and wait for someone else, I thought, but that wasn’t really worth it, as I needed the bathroom.

SO there was nothing else for it, I had to suck it up, and move through my block, and simply get on with what needed to be done.

I swear to God it is the smallest things, which throw me.

Work wasn’t particularly busy, which didn’t particularly bother me as I was battling a version of low-level nausea due to the pain in my foot.

However, I made the most of my down time by working through more of the infrastructure for the website.

I am not exactly confident with the polacy documents, such as privacy, terms of use, blog disclaimer, copyright, or linking, but for now, they will have to do.

For we cannot afford to get them professionally done, but at the same time we cannot afford to have them not done.


I hope they aren’t missing anything substantial.

If there is one thing I do not understand, it is legal jargon.


Meanwhile Michael and Emily went to visit our neighbour who is in hospital, and entertain him with all their adventures, and thank him for the new outdoor furniture.

Then they came home for a nap, went to the park, had a snack, and came to pick mummy up from the station again.

I nearly cried with joy, as when I got off the train the weather had taken a turn.

No longer did we have a nice sunny day of fifteen degrees.

Now we had storm clouds and a wind factor, which brought it down to about six degrees Celsius instead. And there I stood in a t-shirt.

We’re coming mummy, Michael had called from the opposite platform as I disembarked.

Ok, I shouted back, should I wait here?

Wait there, he said in his happy voice.

I should have known he was up to something, but I was too busy congratulating myself on actually carrying the extra bag of clothes that Tamie had brought for me to give to Emily, even with cruches.

Yeah, I rock!

When they arrived, he kissed me hello, then bent down and began to take something out of the pram.

I bet you’re sorry you don’t have a jacket now, he laughed.

Oh, I’m ok, I said.

We’ll be home soon.

Ha ha, he giggled, but look what I have, he continued as he began to take the bags off my back, and help me with my favourite red warm winter coat.

Oh my God, I sighed with bliss.

How did you know?

I think of everything, he said triumphantly.

Not only had the man remembered to put extra painkillers in my bag early in the day, but now this?

Talk about the best husband ever!

I felt very looked after as we made our way home chatting.

We had definitely found our rhythm again.

Good to be back my darling.

I missed you.

And who says there is no such thing as prince charming.

Sorry ladies, but he’s taken.

Honey, you are the king of romance, and I love you.

I wanted to have the house nice and warm for you, but you were a bit quicker than I thought, he apologised as we stepped in the front door.

Its ok honey, I smiled.

May I have a cup of tea please.

But of course, he said, getting Emily out of her pram and placing her on the lounge.

All afternoon as Michael did chores, Emily and I played happily.

He said she had been such a delight all day.

Even when she had woken up that morning, we had been greeted by a smiley chatty baby.

So imagine my joy when I got home, that she was still in that disposition, and we got to chase one another around the house for half an hour.

Me on my hands and knees, and her with her Zimmer frame.

Those little legs of hers pumping along as she pushed that puppy into furniture, daddy’s knees, through her toys like a bulldozer, and best of all over mummy when I wasn’t quick enough. All the while, she giggled madly.

We had never seen her use it so extensively.

After her bath, we played the piano, and then she went to bed.

All that fun must have worn her out, because we didn’t hear from her until 2:00AM, when Michael brought her in with us, and then she stayed asleep until 5:50AM.

Hello Friday morning, I heard Michael groan as Emily climbed over him to get down.

Emily, where are you, I asked sleepily.

Down, she had responded with her dummy in her mouth.

But the sunshine is sleeping, I had said.

Gone, she had responded.

Whether it was her sleeping that had gone, she who had gone, or the sunshine, which had gone, I couldn’t say.

But before we wanted, her and Michael were up having peanut butter toast, while I was left for another hour to sleep.

I felt as though I had been hit by a truck when they came to jump on me.

Again, I wondered how I was going to get through my day.

Our walk to the station was surprisingly fast, even though Michael had to go back and get my backpack, because we had forgotten it.

In fact I was feeling so confident, or rather I was feeling so sore and unconfident that I decided I couldn’t do the stairs at Town Hall station, and that it would be worth navigating Wynyard and walking the extra fifty or one hundred metres to my destination in order to avoid them.

Ummm, no!

Getting off the train was fine, going down the lift was fine, and getting through the new directional gates was not.

Trying to explain to the staff member that not only was I on cruches, but that I couldn’t see, didn’t go down well.

He was mean and rude, and made me feel like shit.

It wasn’t my fault my tappy onny offy card didn’t work, I have no control over that, and I politely pointed out, as he became frustrated with me.

However once through the gate, I managed to find my way to George street, and lope the two blocks I needed in order to get to work.

However, can someone tell me where Tony the fruit guy is?

Why is his shop shut?

Work was uneventful, which meant I was able to start on this blog.

Mostly because I couldn’t face the website again.

But boy, oh boy is it clear I need to make a change.

Each day I enter, I think to myself, this really isn’t working out.

Even when I think it is working, it really isn’t.

So again, what else you got universe?

Where is my values conflict, and how do, I resolve it?

Because this is not sustainable – whatever this happens to be.

It is nothing big or imposing, but always the small things.

There will always be something, which creates a note of discord within me that tells me I am in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Ok, I think, as I take a deep breath, I know.

However usually I am in too much of a hurry or too big of a loss to delve into it any deeper.

But what else am I supposed to do, I ask the invisible forces.

If not this, then what?

I felt terrible on Friday afternoon as I left, because as things stood, there was an opportunity to make some more money if I were to stay back and cover for someone who had not shown up, but I didn’t think I could stand on my foot for any longer.

As it was, I had been on it for a couple of hours already, which meant I was causing more damage than good.

It is still too early in the healing process to be putting as much continual weight on it as I am.

The pain alone tells me that.

John, the best baby mechanic and most comprehensive knowledgeable osteopath ever, had just given me a treatment in a bid to help heal my bones, and work on my frozen neck, which meant I physically felt more aligned, but I felt torn as I walked out the door.

How can I complain we don’t have enough money if I am not willing to earn it, I asked myself.

Finding the balance between work and rest right now is really tricky.

I should have just stayed back and completed the work.

Because maybe if I had, then those two randoms who knocked my crutches from beneath me as I swung through the Queen Victoria Building on my way back to the station would not have done so.

As in yes, on two separate occasions, just like book ends inn my journey, I found myself flat on my arse, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

How had anyone even gotten that close to me to kick my stilts as I moved forward.

I mean that takes talent.

At least they apologised, even if they didn’t stop to help me up.

Then to top things off, the train ticketing guy at the barrier, stood there and made me get my ticket from my pocket, and swipe it through myself, Which left me balancing on one crutch and one foot as I felt through my attire for the desired object.

But I guess he was just doing his job, right?

I mean it isn’t as if I don’t go through there every day.

I have to trust the universe is going to work with me on this one. Because surely something has to change, yes?

We cannot keep going on as we are.

Michael was utterly shattered when he met me on Friday afternoon.

Emily and he had gone to the library in the morning where they had seen all their friends, followed by a quick trip to the supermarket, home for a big long nap, a fast snack, and a trip to the park before coming to fetch me.

Sure, there was nothing unusual about their day, but his vibe told me he was drained.

The stress in his voice, the tightness in his movements, everything screamed of him having had enough.

I’ll feed and bath baby girl, I offered as I arranged us on the kitchen floor.

Why don’t you go and have a shower, I had suggested.

The poor guy agreed without protest. I’m sorry honey, I just don’t feel like I am doing enough, I had called after him as he walked up the stairs.

This seems to be my catch cry right now.

But what else can I do?

What else?

What am I missing here?

If only I could get out of my own way, I think.

Even though I had once again wanted to pick up the laptop after dinner and work on the business the way I had done the evening before, I decided to follow Michael to bed.

Not for any other reason than he looked like he wanted the company.

It was just as well really, because none of us were to sleep well on Friday night, and Emily was up and ready to go by 5:30AM.

Needless to say, Michael was not.

I offered to get up with her, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it.

You need to rest, he had said.

If you don’t rest, you’re not going to get any better.

If you don’t rest, I retorted, you’re going to go crazy.

It’s fine, he said as he groaned, and took the baby downstairs.

Which of course everybody knows fine never means fine.

I laid there tossing and turning for what seemed like forever before falling back to semi sleep and having the stupidest dreams of all time.

By 9:30AM, I was propped up in bed with a cup of coffee, the laptop, and Facebook on my phone for company.

Emily had already been sprung trying to escape out the front gate, which now means the top latch is permanently hooked, so if you are coming through, remember to reach over and undo it yourself.

Obviously, I will retract my claims regarding her not wanting to explore the world on her own from last week.

Clearly, I was wrong, and have under estimated her curiosity.

Well done cutie cute cute cute, I am secretly proud of you for wanting to expand your world beyond our garden.

That is very good developing.

Now I know you don’t know this yet, but the secret Alice gate is still unlocked, because daddy doesn’t think you are strong enough to open it alone, so maybe give that one a go.

I love the mornings I get to sit in bed and type.

Especially because the Japanese maple outside my window is a bright red, and I can see its colour.

By 11:30AM, she was in her cot resting.

By resting of course, I mean stomping.

Sometimes our Little doesn’t want to nap during the day.

We are trying not to notice this new pattern creeping in to the tapestry of our lives, but it is there.

It is most certainly there.

Sometimes I think Michael doesn’t leave her long enough to fall asleep.

I still declare I am better at picking up her cries than he is.

But by 12:00PM on Saturday after much protesting, baby girl fell asleep.

Still Michael pottered around the house and I blogged in bed.

It wasn’t until Emily woke up two hours later that I got up, had a shower, and readied myself for my friend Catherine to come over.

We had arranged earlier in the week that she would come and teach me how to make curry paste.

Honestly, I had no idea it would be so easy.

Normally I would have done all the prep while she talked me through it, but my foot ached, so I sat and watched as she handed me things to touch and smell.

The perfumes and textures were wonderful, and really began to cement into my brain.

I have always learned best when it comes to cooking if someone physically shows me.

Which is strange, because with most things, I am quite happy to read about them instead.

Curry is something I have wanted to wrap my head around for as long as I could remember, so I am feeling really accomplished and fulfilled regarding this one right now.

Not to mention I haven’t made a new friend in a while, and having Catherine over for something, which was not a necessity or didn’t involve the baby as such was refreshing.

I have a lot of virtual friends who I keep in touch with via Facebook, but sometimes it is nice to have an actual human presence.

After she left, I was buzzing.

And not just from the aromatherapy from the most delicious curry paste ever.

I mean we can never go back to store bought again.

Thank you Catherine for making a dream come true.

I hope to return the favour one day.

I need more of that type of thing I told Michael as he gave Emily a bath.

What, adult conversation, he had asked.

Yes, I had exclaimed.

I am not using my brain enough.

I need more stimulation.

I know, he laughed in that way of his which tells me that of course he does.

I encourage such behaviour he had said.

Not that he doesn’t provide me with a good old-fashioned intellectual challenge, but a girl needs variety.

However all the while I was talking to him about it, I felt guilty that he doesn’t really have any friends of his own.

But who will you talk to, I kept asking him silently as I told him about the television show Catherine said we should watch, and explained to him about the making of the famous curry paste.

As we sat down for dinner, he had put the election results on.

Inwardly I had groaned, as I like to pretend I am not interested

In such things.

However, last night it was moving fast.

Last night it was close.

Last night I could not have been any happier than I was with the moment I had a cup of tea in one hand, Catherine’s brownie in the other, my husband beside me, and political commentary on the television I could back chat to.

It was then that I remembered the reason I had ended up with a political major as part of my undergrad degree.

It is because I have a knack for this shit, I had thought.

I understand it.

I understand it the way some people understand colour, or space, or mathematics.

I just get it.

I really enjoy this stuff, I had said to Michael.

I can see that, he responded knowingly.

I don’t want to be a politician I said, but surely, there is something around this I need to look at, because this is way too much fun.

My whole body felt light and buoyant as I watched the drama unfold.

When the counting began to slow, and the commentary was getting too stupid, we decided to call it a night and go to bed.

Neither of us sleeping well, courtesy of a cutie cute cute cute, who by the way can now say cutie cute cute cute, along with telling you her name if you ask, which is Em, not sleeping well either.

How we managed to keep her in bed with us until 7:15AM I will never know.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when Michael and Emily walked in the door.

I had spent most of the morning ticking all the good things off my list.

This blog, part of the website, catching up with girlfriends, and a quiet sit in the sunshine.

I swear to God I sent my husband to visit his family with our little girl, but a big girl came back.

Her movement was different; her words more clear, and guess what?

She even took two steps toward me without prompting. And that is how it continued throughout our afternoon.

So I don’t know what they put in the berries up there, but wow!

I hear that Little had a fabulous time, and gave kisses to everyone.

So again, thank you Jenny for looking after my husband and beautiful baby girl.

They had a wonderful time.

And grandma, I also hear you have a very comfortable lap.

After a long trip to the park, Little and daddy came home for a snack.

Meanwhile I had a chance to get a tiny bit more work done on the business, even though I am still at a loss as to how that is going to work itself out.

I feel as though I am taking all these tiny steps I wasn’t able to before, due to the giant disconnect in my brain, which has now been resolved courtesy of all that crawling, but I have no idea if they are leading to anything profitable.

My foot ached, but it felt good to give Emily a bath.

However just when I was busy congratulating myself on how confident each of us had become with it, as in this is the first night I have ever not held my hand in the water and read her movements like a dolphin, but rather just sat on the side and listened, one cutie cute cute cute did her first pooh in the tub.

Now I have been waiting for this her entire life.

When it had come up in my blind mammas group, several other parents assured me I would know when it happened.

But I can assure you I did not.

I had thought I heard her working on one, but wasn’t sure.

It was only when I reached down to squirt her with a duck, but picked up a pooh instead did I realise the extent of the disaster.

So you want to talk about awkward moments?

Daddy, can you come and wipe her bottom; I called down to the kitchen.

I was not equipped to deal with this one.

And this has led us to where we are.

Michael is settling the baby, as she has just woken up, I am editing this blog, dinner is ready to go, and master chef is about to start.

Published inBusiness BanterMarried LifeMoney MattersRandom MusingsThe Blunder Weeks

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