Sleepless Nights

The morning of Nan’s funeral dawned grey and bitter. Awoken by Isaac looking at me and smiling, I was hoping like hell I could feed him and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, Amy woke up part way through the feed, so I was listening to her yelling ‘Mummy! I AM awake NOW!’ while Isaac kept breaking off to smile. I dragged myself out of bed and looked at my outfit hanging on the door ready to be put on. It wasn’t going to be a good day.

Mum forwarded a copy of the Eulogy to me. It was a first draft put together by my uncle. It was good, but it needed editing and polishing. So, I rang Mum, we talked and then I rewrote parts of the Eulogy and tied it all together into a cohesive speech before sending it back to Mum.

Just a heads up for anyone else who may or may not be involved in organising a funeral. Rewriting a eulogy on the morning of the funeral? Yeah, I don’t recommend it.

I was so stressed that my uncle would be upset with me for rewriting parts of it, but I pulled myself up, tucked myself in and figured that of course he wouldn’t be annoyed, it was only a first draft after all and it was too long and missing chunks and it was better now.

Right?

Eventually we were all ready and packed into the car.

Turn the key. Click click click goes the car.

Nothing.

Again, turn the key. Click click ffffft.

Nothing.

Fucking fuck of a fucking car. Fuck.

Dressed to the nines, we were standing in our very soggy front yard with a dead battery. FINE. We’ll just change the battery from the other car. Nathan jumped into the other car and checked to see if that one would start. Click click whirrrrr fffft.

Two cars. Two dead batteries. What are the odds? Dear universe. I know that you can fuck things up if you choose to, but really, don’t we have enough going on? FortheloveofGOD.

A phone call later, Mum and Dad were on the way to help get our stupid fuck of a fucking car started.

I have never been so stressed in my life. We quickly rearranged Amy’s care arrangements, knowing that no way in hell we had enough time to get her out to his parents AND back to the funeral.

Mum arrived and after enough swear words to make a sailor blush, our car was started and running.

I had the shakes, I felt nauseous and I was more than ready to be done with this day.

We got to the funeral uneventfully. Just as the car died. In the car park.

Oh my fucking god.

But we’d made it and everything could be sorted later. My stress levels were through the roof (have I mentioned I was a little stressed?) as I got Isaac out of the car and into his pram to walk in.

I flicked my head back, drew in a deep breathe and walked through the glass doors. My uncle saw me, looked at me and then immediately looked away. I didn’t notice really, I was too busy looking for Mum. I was about to fall apart.

I found Mum and started swearing about the car. Nothing better than a minor emergency to take your mind off the big things.

I was keeping my shit together fine, until I saw two of my parent’s friends walk through the front doors. Two men, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Two men, who weren’t there for any other reason than to say goodbye to Nan and provide support for US.

I burst into tears I was that pleased to see them.

The service was lovely and I cried the entire way through it. All the work put in and it pulled together perfectly. I made it there on time and Isaac was good throughout. You can’t ask for anything more, can you.

And if a certain family member of mine refused to acknowledge my presence there, merely exchanging polite words when I initiated conversation, well then. That’s not my issue. That’s his.

****

In other things:

I asked and I received. I had my big girl panties all ready, but it turns out I didn’t need them. Not really.

Go on, go and read it.

And… I had my breast checked by a GP today. Definitely a lump there and it feels mobile so that is a good thing. In most cases, mobile lumps are benign cysts. I’m not terribly positive that it does move though and I’m the one feeling it at every available opportunity. HOWEVER. We’ll just not think of that. I am off for an ultrasound of it (’it’ sounds weird. I almost feel I should name it) next Thursday. I’m much less worried now that I’ve seen the doctor and we’ve got things in motion for checks and stuff.

Right.

Happy Birthday David. I’m truly sorry that we’re burying our Nan on your birthday. This last week has sucked. Sucked LOTS.

So, even though we’re spending today in a funeral home, surrounded by lots of family we may or may not get along with, I’m wishing you a happy birthday. I do love you. Even when you pulled all the clothes out of my dresser when you were a toddler. Even when I dressed you in girls clothes and makeup when you were five and you wouldn’t let me photograph you. Even when you kept interrupting me and my boyfriend on Mum’s say so.

Even then.

Nan’s funeral is in a few hours and I’m desperately stressed. I’m going to miss her more than I can articulate.

Lyn Rossendell – 11.04.1945 – 24.06.09

Goodbye again Nan. You know I love you. I’ll never stop missing you.

… In finding Nemo, Dory sings ‘just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming swimming…’

You know that bit?

(Yeah, other mothers of small children out there, I’ve got you singing it now, haven’t I?)

Yes. Mine is ‘Just keep smiling. Just keep giggling. Just keep smiling, giggling, smiling.’

Not always appropriate, but it works. So I’m smiling.

[My broken hot water? Is now fixed. So is the leaking. The destroyed bathroom floor, not so much. However, an Insurance Assessor will be up and fingers crossed, insurance should cover the cost of replacing the floor.]

This Universe:

‘How are you doing?’

‘Oh, okay. You know. We’re coping.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

An Alternate Universe:

‘How are you doing?’

‘Let me see. The plumber spent almost 8 hours here yesterday and I still have a leak, although I do have a pretty shiny new hot water system now. The leak is so bad you could throw buckets of water at my bathroom floor and it would be drier than it is now. He was meant to come back this morning and finish the job, but guess what? We haven’t seen him. Instead, we’ve taken a bunch of his equipment hostage and he can’t have it back until we’re all dried out. First rule of Tradies. Don’t leave your gear behind. Ha.

I originally thought this plumbing issue was going to cost around $1000. Now? I’m doubling the price in my head. I’m also practising pulling money out of my arse, because god knows that’s the only way it will get paid for. Anyone want to put an ad on my sidebar? I’ll do it cheap.

I spent most of today cooking a cake, only to reach dinnertime and realise, I had no fucking idea where the day went and no idea what to cook for dinner. Good thing Amy likes pasta.

My wrist has dislocated a fuckload of times today. It’s even floppier than before and that’s saying something. Unfortunately, it’s my right hand (I’m right handed, obviously). No hand jobs for Nathan. Also no blow jobs because my jaw dislocates when I sneeze and Nathan really doesn’t need me to start screaming and seizing up when he’s in a rather vulnerable position.

I think I’m feeding a small possum in my sleep. At least, it looks like I have been. Chewed nipples, scratches. Surely my son isn’t doing that?

And have I mentioned I have a lovely little lump in my breast? And I am a TAD STRESSED?

I keep stopping to laugh at everything and crack jokes, because DUDE, you can’t make this shit up.

Oh look! Something shiny…

Wait, what were you saying?’

‘I said, how are you doing?’

‘Oh yeah. Okay. You know.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

It pours. Literally.

This morning, I was sitting in the lounge room feeding Isaac. I hear a Chscshhhhh sound (say it out loud, it sounds better) and then the pump started to run. I dumped the baby and raced to the bathroom thinking please for the love of god don’t let that be what I think that is… fuck it. It was indeed what I feared.

The hot water cylinder had burst right at the bottom and hot water was rushing into the bathroom and the laundry pile. (Washing machine is in the bathroom. Please, don’t ask.)

Dodging the hot puddle, I quickly switched off the water pump at the power point as in the moment, I couldn’t remember how the fuck to turn off the water to the cylinder. I’ll be buggered if I was going to let all our precious water flow out through a hole in the cylinder.

Screeching for Nathan and swearing at the top of my lungs, I dumped some dirty towels in front of the cylinder and then stood back to swear some more. A very sleepy Nathan answered, obviously he couldn’t hear the get the fuck here now urgency in my voice.

‘What?!’

‘I NEED YOU! HERE!’

Stumble stumble grrrr groan mumble.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘The fucking fuck of a hot fucking water cylinder burst.’

‘Oh. Fuck.’

Then, as Nathan used his working brain to turn off the water to the cylinder, I rang my Daddy. As you do. And then, all swearing aside, I rang a plumber.

‘My hot water cylinder burst, can you send someone?’

‘Uhm. We can have someone there for you first thing tomorrow morning.’

After a few hesitations (I wanted them there, RIGHT NOW. I wanted them to be able to teleport and magically fix the fucking hot water) I agreed and he started to ask me questions.

‘Is there room around the hot water cylinder to work?’

‘Uhm. Yes? I think so. Some things would need to be moved [like the sink and the laundry and maybe that cabinet...] but it’s nothing major and he could have easy access.’

‘Okay. Now, what is the plumbing that leads to the cylinder like?’

‘Uhm. Shoddy. Very very shoddy.’

Shoddy is not the word for it. I’d use fucked, but I’ve probably used my swear quota for the day.

‘We bought the house last year and the plumbing is shit. You’ll love it.’

‘Oh. [laughs] Okay then. Right. Now how big is the cylinder?’

‘It’s big? I don’t know! It’s been a bad week. It’s a big one. Big.’

‘But is it 160 litres? Or 240?’

I consulted with Nathan.

‘Partner says it’s 240. I just need it fixed. I have kids…’

Wooooooooooeeeeeee.

‘Right. Now where is the address?’

‘Address is [not given to the Internet]‘

‘Oh. You know we charge travelling time, right?’

‘Yeah. I figured. Tell your boys to drive fast.’

‘Okay. Someone will be with you tomorrow.’

Click.

So. No hot water for me until it’s fixed. The floor underneath the cylinder is now fucked completely and even soggier than it was.

On the upside, while I’m going to be shelling out $1000+ for a plumber and a new cylinder, it’s likely that insurance will cover the cost of replacing the bathroom floor. If I jump through their hoops with one eye closed and my hands tied behind my back while chanting Iamagoodgoodcustomer over and over again.

And then I got my shit together, swore some more and headed down to the Funeral Home with Mum and David. My week has just been fucking awesome.

Nan died yesterday. I still feel numb and unreal and just a little fake. I was in a brain fog this morning, right up until our little mini disaster. I tell you what, there is nothing like a mini crisis to make you start thinking again.

Aside from the actual moment when she died, I haven’t cried yet. I don’t really feel like I need to yet. No doubt my tears are in the post and I will go on being fine up until the moment I am not fine. And when I’m suddenly not fine, I will be very very not fine all at once.

I haven’t actually cried in a long time now.

Oh and you know what makes things even more awesome? I found a lump in my breast a few days ago. A lump that isn’t normal for me. A lump that hasn’t gone away with feeding and massage. A REAL lump. A doctors appointment will be made, just as soon as I get through Nan’s funeral.

***

For anyone that knows us in real life, you can email me for details of her funeral. I’ve got everything right here [taps] in my pretty little head. OR, you can see the details in the paper tomorrow.