Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • In an alternate universe.

    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 doesn’t rain…

    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.

  • Nan

    Nan passed away around 2.10pm this afternoon surrounded by family.

    Mum and I are keeping our shit together by being as practical as we can. Thankyou for everyone’s thoughts.

  • Today is not a good day

    So this morning when Amy woke an hour earlier than normal, you could hear me exclaiming, ‘today is not going to be a good day’.

    When the phone rang at 7.30am and it was Mum who had been called into the hospital with Nan at 4am, again I said ‘today is not going to be a good day’

    When Mum rang again at 9am to tell me that the doctor thought that today would be Nan’s last day with us. Again, ‘today is not going to be a good day.’

    A phone call to Nathan later ‘I need you; come home’ and I was in the shower with Amy, mind running 100 kph (much faster than my body was running I should add).

    We got ready at the speed of light and we were ready to walk out of the door as Nathan got home. 40 minutes later, I’m sitting in a hospital room with her.

    So.

    Today is not a good day.

    It’s been 12 months exactly since Nan was diagnosed with Lung Cancer.

    Thoughts appreciated.

  • I can’t breastfeed a pretzel.

    You know what Isaac? If you bend yourself backwards like a pretzel when I try and feed you, then you’re not going to be able to find my boob. Flailing about like a dying chook and hunting for a nipple somewhere in the vicinity of my thigh is not going to cut it. Milk does not come out of my thigh, your left shoulder, or my belly button.

    If you’re a passerby in Tasmania any time in the near future and you see a slightly frazzled mother, telling her baby to ‘please for the love of god just bend in the freaking middle and FEED already’, then wave at me as you back away slowly. Don’t come and say hello, not unless you want to catch a glimpse of my breast as we talk. Because it probably will happen.If you don’t mind the sight of nipples, then definitely stop and I’ll say hello. We all know about the thousands of bloggers you can find in Tasmania anyway. Heh.

    Amy. If you pour your entire glass of water into your bowl of dinner, don’t whine to me that you are hungry. I will drain the water out and you can eat the soggy bits of dinner you have left. I’m warning you now. I love you, but I’m sick of your antics at dinner time. There is no dessert. There is nothing different and you are not going to be granted a sandwich or a whole different meal before bedtime. I cook one dinner, you guys eat it, or you don’t. Easy. When you’re old enough to cook your own meal, you’re allowed to be slightly fussier. Cooking your own meal comes with a side of clean the kitchen up afterwards though.

    My shoulder. Please, can you just stay in place for a little bit? You’re not allowed to get broken, you attach my baby carrying arm to my body. Yes, I know that my arm goes a pretty purple colour when you sublux, but I’ll take normal and working over pretty and purple any day. Please. I promise I’ll rub you with pretty smelling stuff if it would make you happy. Or something.

    Dear Sales Assistant. Yes, I know, it sucks that Canon won’t cover my camera under warranty. It could have something to do with the fact that my daughter gave it a bath. Maybe it was a special present to me [I’ll just make Mummy’s camera all SHINY and CLEAN while she feeds my brother in the bedroom…], but who knows really? The good thing is, I have spoken to my insurance and they will cover most of the repair cost. All you had to do was send me the invoice from Canon. Was it too hard to not scan the invoice into the computer upside down? It made things difficult when I tried to see what they were charging me for everything. Thank goodness I’ve got a laptop. Yes, I may possibly have turned my computer upside down in order to read the damn document. Shut up.

    Canon. I understand that you don’t cover water damage, or corrosion caused by such. However, a repair bill that is $900.03? What the hell is the 3 cents for? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just write that 3 cents off and charge an even $900? It just seems like an awful hassle for an extra 3 cents. Sure I know that for every 1000 repairs you do with that extra 3 cents added you make $30 but still. 3 cents. Really?

    Apparently, the world is out to get me. I shall thwart it by giggling maniacally. I mean, what the fuck else can I do?

    Sigh.