Piano progress

I am so proud of this kid, I am in danger of blocking an airway.

Yesterday at his piano lesson, his teacher showed him how to play the first bit of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. At dinner that night, he played it twice for Grandma. Then first thing this morning, he wanted to play piano. I hadn’t had my coffee yet, so it took a moment for it to sink in that he had played it correctly. I grabbed the video and took this.

I was really, really hesitant about putting him in to piano lessons at such a tender age. But I think my last reservation just flew out the window.

Oh, and apparently, the singing that he does while playing? Two people have independently told me this week that he is on pitch, and will make a fine singer one day.

Now I am off to medicate so I can keep breathing through the cuteness.


No news from the land of reproductive disasters, but I am still here, still breathing, and still waiting.

I’ve come to the conclusion that PSY246 (Cognition) and I will be on much better terms next year than this, and that I am nowhere near prepared for an exam next week. So I have withdrawn from that subject. And if I don’t get a massive amount of work done between now and Sunday night, I may have to withdraw from my other subject as well. Thanks to my new friend Wendy for setting me straight about each lecture recording covering two sets of lecture notes – that was really doing my head in!

So it’s head down and bum up for the next couple of weeks if I want to see decent results. Time to put the wallowing on hold for just another little while.

And in Squishy news, he’s been super good at pre-school nap time, and doing his piano practice without too much complaint, and he filled up his massive sticker chart, so I caved to his request to get sparkly light up shoes. $70 sparkly light up shoes, but that is my issue, not his. He is exquisitely joyful to own a pair of such outrageously splendid shoes. And I love to see him happy!

Medical Management

Today’s conversation with my lovely doctor…

She: Have you had any bleeding?

Me: Yes, I’ve been bleeding for a week – but just bits here and there.

She: We’ll do a scan just to have a look.

Yes, I can see the sac is still there. Just a minute, and I will see if we can use medical management.

Me: What is medical management?

She: I’ll find out if we can do it first, then I will tell you about it.

She then disappears for half an hour, whilst I consult doctor google. Apparently, “medical management” means using RU486 to induce labour. I am not feeling keen.

She: Unfortunately we don’t yet have the protocols in place, so I can’t give you that.

Me: Never mind, I probably would have refused anyway.

She: So do you want to come back next week?

Me: No.

She: I just don’t want you to get lost in the system. (I am assuming that this means that I go without treatment, have a haemorrhage and die).

Me: You know I won’t mess about if something goes wrong. I have no interest in being a hero, and if there is a lot of blood, or my temp soars, I won’t hesitate to call an ambulance.

She: I am away at a conference next week anyway, how about in 2 weeks?

Me: Have a great time in New Zealand 🙂

Happy 40th Birthday Mark

My darling husband turned 40 last week, and today I am throwing him a party. Now please don’t be offended if you didn’t get an invitation – this is a party for special people. Very special.

The type of “special” that still loves to play Dungeons and Dragons into their 40’s.

We’ve moved Cocky into the living room so that the players can take over the kitchen. I’ve made a huge pot of soup, and bread, and am bringing in pizza and making sausage rolls and popcorn. Perfect for a boys own adventure for grown ups, while the kids and widows take over the living room and watch movies 🙂 In my fantasy version of this party, the weather was good so the kids could play outdoors, but we’ll muddle through.

Happy Birthday darling. I love you.


A trip to hospital

My lovely dad came over to help me tidy and organise for Mark’s 40th on the weekend, and we had a productive morning, a lovely lunch, and were just getting stuck in to our afternoons work when I asked dad to get rid of the spiderwebs in Cocky’s house.

Dad didn’t want to vacuum with her in the house, so he decided to move her. I strongly recommended against it, but he insisted. She resisted, and dad ended up with a few holes in his arm, and one nasty one in his hand, that spurted blood.

Spurting. It doesn’t take much blood to look like an awful lot. Dad was a bit shocked, and I completely freaked. Dad wanted to go to a medical centre, but of the 2 I know around here, one is festy and foul, and the other you need to book 2 days ahead (I’m planning to be really ill on Tuesday next week, can you book me in?). So I dragged him off to hospital.

He’s fine. After about 10 minutes in the hospital, the bleeding stopped. The triage nurse recommended a tetanus shot, and then dad waited around for hours for the shot, and a script for antibiotics.

I am officially paranoid, but watching your beloved father bleed like that will tend to freak you out.

More nothing

Bonnie came with me to the hospital today, and Roshni was back from holidays. It was actually really lovely to touch base with her again – she said that she’d been thinking about me lately. She and I do have a lovely understanding.

1 in 200 miscarriages results in bleeding that goes beyond what is healthy. If this happens, and you don’t get to hospital, things get ugly. Which is why Roshni thinks I should opt for the D&C, and avoid the risk. From her perspective, it’s better to avoid that .5% risk than take the risk of having surgery.

From my perspective, the inherent risks of surgery (general anaesthetic, infection, sharp instruments near bits of me that have had quite a ride already…) far outweigh the benefits of well, waiting.

Don’t get me wrong, I HATE waiting. But having unnecessary surgery to avoid having to wait seems a bit extreme, even to me. Normally, miscarriages happen between 2-4 weeks after the baby stops growing. Which means that I am just inside the window now, and that if I wait another 2 weeks, statistically, I’m likely to miscarry naturally.

Worst case scenario, if I do bleed too much, I have good support, I can get myself to hospital, or call an ambulance, or call someone to help out. I am paranoid enough to be cautious, and I’ve already experienced a nasty infection, so I know about the warning signs there too.

All in all, I am comfortable with the decision to wait, apart from the requirement that I attend the hospital every week until I get the all clear.

That sucks.

And the worst bit? I’m still deathly tired, and still puking.

So rude.

That’s just great

9pm on a Tuesday night, and my temp is going up. Feeling a bit crappy.

Just like I did before I went into labour with A&A. Just before I developed sepsis.

We all know I love a drama, but I could live without this.

Going to take my temp again in an hour, and if I am still under 37.5 degrees, I’ll call it a cold and go to bed 🙂 I just needed a bit more excitement in my life!

Update – 37.4. Going to bed.


Further update – Wednesday morning, and I feel perfectly fine. CLearly it’s the paranoia setting in 🙂