Well, Monday's a scream

Linnea and I had a screaming competition earlier. I think I won - at least, she refused to scream any more.

Deweekending: It's like deschooling, only every week.

Now I need to tidy the house as best I can so that the cleaner can see to clean it. And I have to discuss reducing her hours, which I don't want to do, because if we're feeling a pinch, surely she is too? But perhaps she can find another contract. I'll ask her. Not reducing until after Christmas, anyway. She's had a Christmas bonus twice so it's now reasonable of her to rely on it.

Traumatic birth, more than four years later

Well, I still cry. Who knew?

Today I'm thinking about Ways People Said It Was My Own Fault So I Deserved It (and incidentally, if it's all my fault, it means it couldn't happen to an innocent person, like, oooh, them).

- I didn't consent to a c-section (actually, I did, in writing, when they forced me to)

- I should have had the baby in Ireland

- I should have had the baby at home (except that when that was tentatively suggested antenatally it was shouted down srsly)

- I should have refused consent to / consented earlier to some / all of the interventions

- I should have realised that I had gestational diabetes and that's why my baby was so big (this one still knocks me sideways)

These Romans are crazy.

Dance this way

Linnea showed me how to dance, with clapping hands and stamping feet, and we jumped and span and twirled until my breath was short and my legs were beat, and she kept going, waving her hands, younger and faster than when we began.

Emer showed me how to dance, jiggling and wiggling, and sat on my hip and danced with me, kissing and giggling.

Merlin / Katie-Morgana

Well, she sounds just like Katie always did, same voice, same accent, but she hardly ever looked like Katie. Just for a second, once or twice, and then back to looking like, um, an actress.

Very odd.

Emer in "never sleeping again" shocker

She insisted on practicing COUNTING. Which is crazy. She goes one, two, one, one, one, one. Then she makes me count up to five on my hand, her hand, her other hand, my hand again. It's very impressive.

Also, she spent ages looking at photographs.

I swear she can tell when I'm hormonal and adjusts to suit.