Why, you might ask, didn’t we go out tomorrow on my actual birthday? Well tomorrow (today by the time I finish typing this, as it’s 11.53pm and Amy has just woken again) I reserve for sleeping in late (if I make it to 9am, I’ll be pleased), eating cheese and biscuits (well, rice crackers, but whatever), demanding foot rubs at every opportunity and generally overusing parentheses.

I’m going to be spending tomorrow doing not a lot of anything.

Except maybe playing with my new 50mm lens that was my birthday present from Mum. Yay!

Anyway, I had a lovely day.

Right up until Mum dropped me back off at Nathan’s parent’s house, where Nathan and the children were camping out and we tried to head home.

The car started perfectly at their house. Truly it did.

Then Nathan noticed that our speedo wasn’t working. Suddenly we’d lost 1st gear and the car was feeling sick. 5 minutes out, we’d pulled over to baby the car back to health. Nathan added more transmission fluid (which we’d only topped up the other day), more coolant, more everything.

The universe had other ideas though and suddenly we went from a car that was sick, but running, to a car that wouldn’t start.

Did I mention we were in a tiny little car park, having pulled off the highway?

Heh.

Anyway, the calvalry came and rescued us, to the tune of Mum coming to collect us and Nathan’s brother showing up to help Nathan get the car running again. The kids and I followed Nathan home in Mum’s car and nothing untoward happened. Needless to say, it was a stressful way to end the day, but ah well. We’re home now and I’ve got a car I can kick when I get frustrated because the stupid fucking  thing is broken and needs more money than it’s worth to fix it. Sigh.

Sigh. Again.

BUT! Today I turn 21! I suppose I’m officially allowed to get drunk in the US and other assorted countries, despite my own letting me drink 3 years ago. (We won’t talk about all the underage drinking I did while I was working, ahem)

And to celebrate, I thought I’d share some photos I took today.

Because I’m 21 now and I can. So there.

Shush. I may possibly have been enjoying snapping photos of the food. Not with the 50mm though, that was bought after we had lunch. I’m already craving more sushi.

Oh yes. And how the day ended:

I cope  by moving through my moments without thinking about it. If I consciously don’t think about her, then I can move through my day without hurting.

Then

something will happen.

And the enormity of what we’ve lost hits me like a truck with no brakes.

Loss is forever and I think that is the hardest part. That this is forever. There are no undos, no fixing this. I can’t make this better because I can’t bring her back.

I said after she died that I didn’t regret anything I had done or not done. That I was at peace with her passing. I told her I loved her lots on that last day.

I think I lied.

Because

I regret that she died at all. That we didn’t have longer. That she was in pain.

In the future, we will have a cure for cancer. It might not be for a hundred years, but in the future there will be a cure. Future generations will look back and wonder how we managed to lose so many people to cancer. They will wonder how we didn’t crack the code sooner, in order to save more lives.

But it will be like us, looking back on the invention of antibiotics. We know that we’re lucky, but we don’t realise how lucky we are. We’re not likely to die from a simple cut anymore. A puncture wound is not going to be our death.

In the future, Cancer will be like that.

I hope it is sooner than we believe.

But until then, we will support the research. We will donate money and time and good humour. We will do what needs doing, even if that means we hold the hand of a loved one while they’re dying.

We do this, hoping that in the future, our children’s children won’t have to go through it.

Because god knows, I wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone.

The cup smelled like pine-o-clean, the straw smelled like pine-o-clean and her breath smelled like, you guessed it, pine-o-clean.

Sigh.

We were given instructions on what to watch for and what to expect, but basically, if your toddler ingests a mouthful or two of pine-o-clean, you’re not going to have to race to emergency in an ambulance.

(For the record, we were told to watch for breathing difficulties, excessive hyperactivity or excessive lethargy. They mentioned she might also vomit, but not to worry too much unless she couldn’t stop vomiting)

So far, she hasn’t even complained of a tummy ache.

Seems that for Amy, actual cleaning poison is less like poison than gluten.

Heh.

If when you found the freddos, you promptly snapped a photo so you could blog it, then it’s definitely not been a good day.

NaBlo, it’s been lovely, but don’t think I can subject everyone to this quality all month.

Gah.

****

Today is day #5 of my period and I’ve bled through 3 pairs of underwear already today. Despite using tampons sized the equivalent of a small nation.

Last night I bled through another 3 pairs of underwear and 2 pairs of pajama bottoms. I was still awake every hour to go to the toilet. Yesterday I bled through a tampon, a full sized maternity pad AND 3 panty liners I’d put on underneath the maternity pad just in case. That was within an hour.

I’d just like to say a giant fuck you to my uterus. Not only is it trying to take over my body with the stabby pain, but it wants to leave it’s mark on everything. At this point I’m scared to cough, just in case I drown.

I’m thinking I need to rename it the Pit of Despair.

Apparently, when you’ve not had a period for oh… 9 months or something, when it happens, it’s like the flood gates open and away goes everything you thought you knew about your body. Hell, this bleeding is heavier than the bleeding I had after pushing a decently sized baby out of my vagina. Only without the ‘grazing’ (I refuse to acknowledge that it’s grazing. Cheese gratering was what it felt like).

We won’t even talk about what happens when I feed Isaac and my uterus uses it as an excuse to clamp down and leave me curled up in a tiny little puddle of pain.

Stupid uterus.

We’re also not talking about my EDS while I’m bleeding. Needless to say I feel sort of like a rag doll. A shaken rag doll.

On the upside, I now have an excuse to buy new underwear. I’ve thrown out nearly a dozen pairs so far.

Heh.

Someone shoot me now.

Day #3 and I’m already asking god why I thought I’d be able to blog every day.

ANYWAY.

If you’re interested in coming along for the ride (3 days in) you can find my profile here. We can amuse each other backwards and forwards.

Or something.

Welcome to the month of quantity over quality.

Of course, they’re not sensible lists. You can check them out here.

I say we all create unsensible lists. Let’s have a unsensible silly list movement.

Because really, how silly is the idea of lists? Let’s just make people feel EXCLUDED by not being on my soooper seekrit speshul list.

Heh.

Actually, thinking of that, do you think I need a soooper seekrit speshul list?

And, who is sticking their hand up to help me bury bodies?

But really, I want to talk about Twitter lists for an ideal world.

In an ideal world, where no one would get offended due to being included (or not) on my lists, here would be mine.

People who actually amuse me.

People who think they’re amusing but they aren’t. We’ve all been there.

People who I like a lot, but whose twitter stream drives me fucking mad..

People who say stupid things.

Shit. So that you know that you’ve made my shit list (credit for this one goes to JellyWrestler)

Famous people I follow because I’m a crowd following asshat.

Big name bloggers who don’t follow anyone back.

Jackasses who do nothing but retweet shit links.

People who clutter up my timeline but occasionally throw out a good link so I feel obligated to keep following.

People who I suspect also find their children annoying sometimes.

People who read my blog and enjoy it.

People who will get butthurt if they aren’t on one of my lists.

Businesses who set up twitter just to constantly tweet about their 25% off sale. But only if you’re in their country.

Politicians who thought that twitter might be a good idea, but they don’t follow anyone back, leaving them looking like elitist bastards. Still.

People who won’t jump to conclusions if I say something about stabbing myself in the eye.

People I actually like and think we should just skip twitter and get drunk together.

And finally, last but not least:

People who would help me bury a body, should the need arise.

***

What would your lists say in an ideal world where no one would get offended? Or like me, in a tongue in cheek world. I’ve not got any plans to set up lists in the near future, so don’t stress about it.

And this is our end result:

An arena for the horses!

It’s not quite finished yet, it needs another layer of tyres (arriving next week) and some hot tape around the outside, but I’ve got an area I can work the horses seperately in.

Emma and I have been working on ground manners lately and she’s getting better. She’s not as pushy anymore and accepts that I won’t let her rub her head on me, not now, not ever and that if she requests, I will rub the itchy spot on her forehead with my hands.

And I mean, sure, after all that work I’m having a hard time walking today and Nathan has had to relocate one of my ribs at least every hour, but it feels good to have it done.

It feels really good.

[Cross posted at Two Mares]

Well OH BOY was he right. I’ve been busy.

Busy busy busy. I can’t sit still, I’ve been running all over the house like a chook without a head and even though I know what’s causing it I still can’t quite stop myself from poking Nathan every time I walk past him. He’s been a little bit saintly and hasn’t started poking me back yet.

We built an arena for the horses. It’s not entirely finished yet, but I’m proud of it and it was hard work. It’s made out of second hand tyres (cost: free!) and elbow grease. I’ve got another load of tyres arriving next week that should enable us to finish it up entirely. At this point, it’s usable though.

In other news, Amy has stopped sleeping.

Completely. And. Utterly.

I wake up at 3am to feed Isaac and she’s curled up on the couch, just sitting there. Last night I put her back to bed half a dozen times between midnight and 7am. It’s been … less than fun. It wouldn’t be so bad (she doesn’t make much mess, she doesn’t always wake me up) except that by the afternoon, she is hideously tired and will NOT nap. She won’t even lay down and rest. She just likes to sit on me and cry and whine and ohMYgod.

Sleeping: We’re not doing much of it.

But anyway, I’m on the mend now. The antibiotics are working well and I’m able to breathe again. Even though the extra energy has been nice, I’m looking forward to stopping the steroids. I’m pretty sure my family is looking forward to it too.

Oh and for a final whine, because I can, I got my period back today. My last one was when Isaac was a newborn, which appears to be how my body works. Have a baby, bleed for a month, get a period 28 days later and then nothing for months. So I’m curled up with a heat pack and chocolate, wishing I could stab my uterus with something sharp because it might hurt less that way.

Sob.

Finally (yes, I promise, finally, also, the steroids stop in a few days, so I’ll be less manic and more put together then) I set up a twitter account for my horse blog. You can find me here – @TwoMares . That is, if you’re interested.