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I think the rigors of the growth spurt, subsequent hormones and the (quite possibly) varying sugar levels in our Eldest after the bug and weight loss (and subsequent fluctuating appetite!) have had a severely detrimental effect on his behaviour.  Add to this the fact that mummy and daddy are still pretty pooped from the dramas of last week (!) and you have a bit of a powder keg. 

As I have said before, Eldest is really pushing himself to get back to full fitness, but we are still not confident enough in his health to take him on any length of journey, or anywhere that he may pick up a passing cold virus (or worse).  He did not have a sudden-onset sore stomach at all for the whole of yesterday – but that was for the first time in nine days, so we are not going to stretch our luck!

We went for a walk around the block as a family yesterday, and outlined our intention many times to the children. 

When we were getting ready, Youngest had a meltdown because scooters were not being taken (we wanted Eldest to take it easy over a longer distance) and cried for the first three minutes of the outing (read: the time it took to pass alllllll our close neighbours’ houses). 

Eldest held my hand and chatted to me in a lively way, commenting on how nice it was to be breathing in the fresh air etc.  As we rounded a corner and were almost half way on our walk, he informed us that we would have to cross the road to go up the ‘tractor path’ to the canal.  I reiterated that we were only walking around the block, not going on a 2-3 mile wander by the canal.  He asked me what ‘the block’ was, and when I explained that is was a set of streets near us and which ones they were, he lost interest in the walk and asked to go a short cut home, with a look of disappointment. 

Youngest then doubled over and said his tummy was sore.  On further investigation, it turned out it was just rumbling.  Phew!!

From Textfixer (I know, second day, will do a different one tomorrow)

As soon as we got in, it rained.

Today it actually rained on the kids, having been glorious sunshine around midday when hubby took them out.  Unfortunately, this time Eldest had absconded waaaay up our road on his bike and was refusing to come back, so hubby got rather wet, too…

 

 

My words today made me go all philosophical.  Not like me, eh?!

 

 

Time  Canvas  Apocalypse  Chart  Dog  Almighty  Extremist  Liver  Accomplice

 

Time –

That huge blank canvas

We fill with the mundane

Out of a skewed sense

Of duty.

 

We fear the apocalypse –

But not enough

To chart some course

That never seeks to dog us

With depression.

 

Some call on the Almighty

To provide a preferred path;

Some use the same dogma

To an extremist end:

Blast through complacency.

 

Then there’s the writer:

Pickling his liver,

Voicing collective feelings;

His reader a willing accomplice

In his self-annihilation.

 

Notebook Page – should say ‘15.4.17’ at the top…I’ve obviously been doing the Time Warp agaaaain…

I can never work out whether the fact alcohol doesn’t do anything spectacular for me is a bad omen for my writing.  I wonder what I am making my liver endure with all the Irn Bru Xtra I’ve been downing recently?  Am I orange internally?  Urgh.  I have switched to decaf tea with oat milk this last week.  While the kids were ill, I didn’t like how cows’ milk was making my tummy sound 😉  I think it makes me feel a lot more ‘even’ than the fizzy dayglow stuff does, I should really stick with it.

I think the fact I am an emetophobe has saved me from embracing a tipsy life.  I read this article with interest, however.   Despite a few gory details.

As I stagger (sober but tired) towards the heady age of forty (gasp!) the question of time is preoccupying me more and more.  I measure it in my kids’ milestones and birthdays, in school terms and holiday dates, in the anniversaries of my siblings’ marriages and my own. 

In the decade(s) since I hugged some dearly missed friend(s). 

I see the years mount up in the photos I flick through, in the posts I write here, in the lines on my face in the mirror and on the older people I love. 

But the essence of time still seems to slip through my fingers.  I never manage to come up with the perfect way to spend it, and yet have got through so much of it.  It is scary and reassuring all at once.

Sigh. 

I hope you get to spend some quality moments with people who adore you this Easter.  Have a great Sunday, and enjoy your chocolate!

 

 

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