Disco Knitter

I’ve spent a bit of time thinking about how I can connect better with the kid, so he doesn’t feel like my sadness is overwhelming for him. And frankly, dropping out of uni isn’t the answer. I think that the key to being less sad around the kid is actually being less sad. And actually achieving something with my life that isn’t about doing something for Inigo (not that that isn’t fulfilling ) is ultimately going to be the fastest ride out of sadville.

I’ve also connected with another mum who lost a baby at 23 weeks. She is a few years further down the road than I am, so I am really interested in both her experiences of loss and how she survived, but also in how her elder child is dealing with things. She sent me an email telling me that my crazy “why not do a psychology degree” behaviour is actually pretty typical in her experience. She said that in her support group, a lot of the mums did something a bit crazy within about 4 months of losing their babies. Some moved interstate or overseas, some left marriages, some began to study, or quit study if they were already enrolled. She tried to cut all her hair off and move interstate, but was talked down by a kind hairdresser. So what I am doing isn’t abnormal, or strange for those of us “in the club”, it just looks quite mental from the outside. I can live with that.

Inigo is an awesome kid (who apparently prefers his name to be written in a serifed font), and I suppose there are just going to be more and more times when he outsmarts me. So the sooner I get that psych degree (with a major in child development!), the better.

Tomorrow I am off to the ABA conference, where I hope to see Dr James McKenna (click the link then scroll down to see his theory about limbic regulation, fascinating) speak about co-sleeping, and all sorts of other wonderful insights about boobs and how to use them. And then Thursday with the kid, then Friday to finish my essay for Environmental Peace (I am doing salinity in the Murray Darling Basin), the weekend to play with the kid and do a final draft of my essay, ready to submit on Sunday night.

And by then, of course, this shitty, shitty fortnight will be behind me, and I will be looking forward to my first High Distinction. Onwards and upwards!

But does teaching my bird how to do a trick using positive reinforcement count as homework?

Today is my first full study day!

Inigo listening to “I Don’t Feel Like Dancing” by the Scissor Sisters while eating his weet bix. He now knows what mama’s headphones are for. Though I was using them for listening to lectures, honest!

One. Never apply for university on the evening that applications close. You are bound to make a rookie mistake, like applying for a course you have no hope of getting into, and neglecting to make sensible choices about your second and third preferences.

I put “Bachelor of Psychology with Honours” as my first preference. Which I had no hope of getting into without an ATAR of about 90 (or equivalent in work experience, or study, etc).

Then I put Social work as my second choice. I got into social work.

Two. When you make a mistake, or don’t get what you want, ALWAYS ASK FOR FORGIVENESS. Or help, or a favour, or whatever. But always ask. Because if you don’t ask, you won’t get. And if you do ask, you might just get…

…offered a place in a Bachelor of Psychological Sciences!!!!

And if I can maintain good results, I might get to do the honours year down the track, and still become a psychologist.

So now I am choosing subjects, and trying to navigate my way around the uni web services, with a view to starting on Valentines day.

Apparently, I just applied for university.

On Friday, I found out that UNE applications close tonight at midnight, so today, Inigo skipped his nap, and went to bed at 5.30 so mama could scan documents and talk herself up.

Number one on my list is a Bachelor of Psychology with Honours. This is either proof that I am completely unhinged, or a great way to distract myself from the inescapable pain of everyday life.

And here is a picture of a small boy in a home made tutu.

I volunteered to spend a shift at the Get Up! organised flood relief call centre, trying to match up families needing accommodation with families offering shelter. And it was honestly a relief to spend some time talking to people who had bigger problems than me. Bigger? Well, maybe that is a judgement call, but some of those conversations will stay with me for a long time.

And as well as the woman who wanted to know what religion a single mum with health issues was before she committed to offering to put a roof over her head. Really??? Really? FFS woman, is it Christian to only offer succour to people that agree with you? I think NOT.

And then there was a woman I will call Lovely. She had two bedrooms spare in Ipswich, a place where so many houses were devastated that accommodation offers there are few and far between. She had been in touch with a single mum with three kids, and expected her to spend last night at her house. Only to get a text message at 10:30pm, saying “found a place for tonight, call you tomorrow”. What followed was a number of phone calls where Lovely got progressively more worried about what sort of person she was opening her home to. We assured her that she was under no obligation to offer her home to a stranger that she didn’t trust, and she relied, “there is so much need in the world, how can you close your heart to anyone when you know you could be missing an opportunity to help someone who really needs it”.

Wow.

Lovely, I hope everything works out, that your guests don’t steal your silverware, and that many, many blessing are heaped upon you and your big heart.

My friend David used to have a thing for Standard cars. He and his brother Andrew (my boyfriend for a while) shared a massive Standard Vanguard painted with Hammertone Grey that we all called Chubb. It was a fabulous way to arrive at a nightclub, but leaving could be difficult, what with having to crank the beast in the pouring rain, etc…

So anyway…

David and Andrew, but mainly David, used to work on cars a lot. It was David that taught me how to change the oil on my Ford Escort Panel Van, and gave me the confidence to know my way around a combustion engine so that no mechanic could ever baffle me with bullshit. And one day, David was pulling apart an airconditioning pump, and on his workbench I found a gorgeous captured bearing, or “thrust race”, covered in motor oil, which I proceeded to work over my hand and onto my wrist. I was a lot thinner then, and luckily David didn’t need to put the pump back together, so I kept wearing it.

Over the years I got fatter, and the bracelet became a permanent reminder of those days, one I wouldn’t dream of removing, even if I could.

Unfortunately, when Inigo was about 6 months old, the metal strip joining the two halves finally wore away, and the bearings all fell out, and my gorgeous bracelet was reduced to a torture device that cut into the flesh of my wrist and ached off and on.

On Saturday night, thanks to Richard, I finally had the means, the opportunity and the temporary fortitude provided by gin to remove it.

Before.

In the vice.

First attempt with the angle grinder.

The hacksaw wasn’t much use.

Finally free!

The aftermath. You can’t see it here, but I have an injury on the inside of my wrist, I am not sure if it is a cut from the vibrations, or a burn from the steel heating up, but it will heal soon, and my wrist feels so much better. FOr the first time ever I have been able to cuddle my boy without worrying about putting an eye out or hurting him.

As well as chatting to a few mums that needed breastfeeding support, Ive also culled, sorted an labelled the toys, painted a birthday card for my gorgeous nephew that is about to turn 4, and started up the t-shirt printing again.

Feels much better than wallowing, but I think there is still wallowing to come

• Got a lie in for the first time in a few days. I’ve been doing the morning shift with Inigo since Monday, feeling very proud of myself. We had diner with mum and dad last night, and Inigo had a meltdown a the thought of coming home with mama instead of having a sleepover with Nanna. I wish I had that meltdown on video!

• Had my first solo bath in about 6 months. Having a bath was on the forbidden activities list for women with ruptured membranes, and since I’ve been out of hospital, Inigo has wanted to be with mama as much as possible, and that means solo bathing is a real luxury.

• Had my 6 week check up today. Found out a few things..
° I was very lucky that I didn’t end up in intensive care. My doctors were really worried about me, and very relieved when I started to improve.
° Although I have improved a lot since leaving hospital, it is going to take a while until I am back to normal. Roshni said she would have “liked” to have seen me better than I am by now, I shouldn’t expect too much.
° I can start some gentle exercise now. No weight training yet, but aqua aerobics would be ok.
° International travel mid next year would be OK. Previously I was told not to travel, “just in case”.
° And if we decide to allow hope to triumph over experience, and make another attempt to add to our family, the ideal time to wait after a c/s is 18 months. Being over 40 may change that recommendation.
° Usually, premature rupture in one pregnancy means an increased risk for future pregnancies. But because I was pregnant with twins, Roshni thinks that was the cause of the rupture, and a future single pregnancy would “probably” be ok. Sheesh.

• After all this excitement, we go to the post office in Merrylands to pick up a few parcels, where I forgot my credit card.

• Lunch at the Taj. Inigo coped very well with no nap, and no mango lassi (they forgot to bring it). Home to tackle some housework, for the first time in a long, long time.

Tomorrow, I am going to be completely wrecked…

(First image, Inigo and Nanna last night, second image, a four leaf clover I found on the day of Inigo’s birthday party)

Before I got my overlocker (thanks mum!), I had heard that they could be grumpy and persnickety beasties. So when it misbehaved on me the last time I used it, and I couldn’t get it to behave, no matter how many needles I changed, or how many times I re-threaded it.

So it went into time out. For more than six months.

Fast forward to my birthday, Jane took me out for lunch, and I found some really awesome fabric for making pyjama pants for Squishy. Today, Mark took Inigo to his parents place for the whole day, so I’ve been able to get a few things done, bit pacing myself so I don’t puke, and I even got the overlocker out, faced my fears, and…

We’re friends again

(BTW, as cool as this fabric is, this is not the special stuff!)

I may not post often, but today, when our hot water failed to be hot, I had cause to ring the people that installed it – and they wanted to know when it was installed (certain parts only have a 1 year warranty). Of course, my paperwork didn’t have a date on it, so during a search of my computer, I found a blog post that was written on the day it was installed. The 30th of May, 2009. Gold!

Sarah, my sister in law, and mum to the adorable Alex, turned 40 a few weeks ago, and had a right proper shin dig. She asked me to take a few pics, so here they are. The theme was “F”. I went as a sub-literate Fotographer.

As a photographer, I am less than thrilled with some of the image quality, but considering the lighting conditions, and that this is the first time I have ever shot fully manual with a flash, I’m rather surprised that I got as many good shots as I did.

Great party, lovely sister in law, and interesting photographic challenge.

And thank you to the adorable husbeast sys admin who has fixed my blog. After many months of not being able to use Ecto (my blog software of choice), IT’S NOW WORKING!

So now, I can post pictures effortlessly, I can even post from my iPhone, and my world is a beautiful place*.

Yay!

*Apart from all the horrible crap that is going on, of course.

Late Thursday afternoon I got the email I’ve been waiting for – I have been accepted as a volunteer Breastfeeding Counsellor for the Australian Breastfeeding Association. I spoke to the roster co-ordinator last night, and have been assigned my first helpline shift (2nd Friday of the month, starting in April). And this morning I logged in successfully – and logged out again quickly before I had to take a call. There is not enough caffeine in the world to make that first call easy.

So wish me luck, between now and the 9th of April I have to take lots of calls to get myself ready and comfortable enough to tackle an entire 4 hour shift on my own.

There is other (huge) news around the corner too, but I don’t want to say anything until it has been confirmed and I have more information. But needless to say, there are exciting times ahead!

I took some pics for a newborn baby and her family a few months ago, and word got around, and now I have my first paid gig.

Check out the rest of the shoot here.

You know how it goes, you’re chatting with an old friend, and they say something like, “I’ve just enrolled in *circus school”, or some such, and you think, “I’ve always wanted to learn highwire acrobatics”, and so you ask them for the flyer, and then you sit on it until ten minutes after applications close, and then you say, “bugger, I really wanted to do that”.

So, when Miriam mentioned a textile printing course, I naturally thought I’d never get around to it. But somethings got into the water around here, and I seem to be in the mood to get shit done.

I’m enrolled.

In semi related news, Inigo harvested the first strawberry from my his garden today.

Apparently, the Government White Paper on airline safety has been released, and apparently they have listened to the radical crazies like me that sent submissions supporting allowing knitting needles on planes.

What’s next? Making beating children illegal?

Inigo’s little party went really well. It was just grandparents, godparents, and aunts, uncles and cousins – 17 people, but it still seemed like a lovely intimate gathering.

We met at Putney Park (Inigo’s favourite park), and silly me forgot to factor in all the other people who would be having parties at the same time, so we couldn’t get a picnic table. Thanks to Bev amp; Ted, and Mum and Dad, who brought tables, we were able to set up in a lovely shady spot, and Inigo had the time of his life.

As well as being surrounded by his favourite people and being allowed to eat cake (and icing for the first time ever!), he got presents!

Bev and Ted got him some lovely clothes, and Ted made the best play kitchen! Inigo has been loving helping me in the kitchen, so the play kitchen is going to get a lot of use in the next few years – and it’s so much nicer than the horrible plastic ones that you pay hundreds of dollars for.

He also got a treasury of Winnie the Pooh stories from Aunty Jane, a book that he will be able to treasure for a lifetime, and a couple of fabulous shirts. And accessories for his new kitchen – a proper Italian pasta cooking set, and a beautiful tea set. A very lucky boy indeed.

And a lovely time was had by all.

I’m anaemic.

Which accounts for my extremely low energy and lethargy. Doc has given me a referral to see a gastroenterologist and a different (chelated) iron supplement.

I cant get in to see the specialist until January, but if I’m not feeling significantly better in a month, well do some further investigations.

I am also going to do spirometry next week and do a proper asthma plan, and possibly see a specialist for that too. Possibly we’ll be able to manage my asthma without daily steroids. And I think that is worth looking in to.

So thanks everyone for your gp suggestions – I now feel like I am on the right track!