storbarnsförälder

The house was a pit and a disaster, so we left it behind. We ( stopped at Elle's Baguettes for sandwiches ) and then posted some party invitations at the post office, and then I cycled us in to town and out again to ERAPA.

( We went down by the river ) and then we arrived early for the home ed group. We had our lunch and the first people to arrive were people I already knew and so it was lovely and pleasant.

Everyone had a lovely time until Linnea came up to me sulking. I was non-pushily nice to her for a few minutes and extracted the fact that she doesn't want to play that game because it's "horrid," a word which, as Susan might say, "real children never say." Further queries elicited the information that the game was robbers and cops. And she wasn't allowed to be a cop, apparently.

Emer found a doll as large as herself to play with, which was disconcerting to catch out of the corner of my eye.

So Linnea didn't mind much when we had to leave early, and we arrived in John Lewis in time to get both children fitted for new sandals. ( It was a bit of a production. ) and Rob phoned as my transaction was ending and I told him where we were.

So I brought everyone back to the Parents' Room and while Linnea was sitting on the loo Rob came and found us. And we talked briefly about dinner and I made a couple of phonecalls to sort out money and we went out somewhere Linnea remembered going for Freya's fourth birthday, a little over a year ago.

They had a good, cheap children's menu so that was lovely. ( I had a brief interaction with neighbouring diners, because I am an interfering kind of person. )

After we had finished our meals - during which Emer demonstrated that spaghetti-twirling is easy really, but eating very hot food is hard - we had to cycle home without lights. Well, I had a rear light. I didn't enjoy that. Rob and I both had hi-vis vests on but he'd forgotten his lights and my front dynamo-light wasn't working. We must look at that soon.

Emer fell asleep on the way home and is in bed asleep even now. Linnea did some of her restaurant-kiddie-pack puzzles while Rob made up her bed and now she's gone to bed too.

My turn next.

Rob and I are both doing better today - he slept almost all night through and I had several chunks of more than an hour each. Which, compared to Sunday night, was brilliant.

This morning Linnea woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and pottered about on her computer while I stayed in bed with Emer. I got up before Emer properly woke and did laundry and dishwashering and tidying, and then when Emer woke we all had porridge. Linnea and I were dressed to go out by ten o'clock but Emer wasn't until closer to eleven, but that's ok. She doesn't like being dressed.

We went to Lidl for orange juice and bananas and carrots and other things which are available in organic, fair-trade, or British (ie kinda localish) cheaper than the market sells them. I also caved in and bought silicate grapes (ie nonorganic) imported from the other end of the planet. Bad Environmentalist No Biscuit.

After that I compounded my sin by eating in McDonalds, which I'm always ashamed of because of their international eeeeebil, and then we came home and I finished doing laundry and tidying the bathroom, kitchen, and dining room for the BfN people. I put the stairgate in and cleared the kitchen and got coffee on, and it was almost ready by the time the first person arrived.

The lesson went well.

Rob arrived during the post-lesson chat, and so I could leave for the True Food market without waking Emer. Linnea was just as pleased to be left behind too. I got a lot of useful shopping done and had two cups of tea and several interesting-to-me conversations. I absolutely have to get out more - this is really important. Maybe if I take up yoga it will help.

All I ever think about are money and babies, babies and money. Oh, and environmentalism and politics.

I think this third week of PMS is doing a number on my self-perception because I am not in a good place right now.

I crept into Linnea's bed in the night because I had persistent anxiety about her continued breathing.

Rob was up all night with Linnea. I was up all night with Emer. Both children were hot, sweaty, and scratching like loons. And peeing like rivers.

Today they are both cranky and not hungry, but apparently well. I'm cranky and starving and grouchy and clawed.

The cats were sick in the night; Rob cleaned up two parts of a dead animal from under one chair, in the middle of the night, and I cleaned up a heap of undigested catfood from under another chair this morning. I'll also have to wash the coats which were on the floor, as they were affected too. Yuck.

It's an absolutely gorgeous day and my children are wiped out by either a lowlevel virus or the party and sugar from yesterday.

On the plus side, I got their clean laundry put away, the wet bedding in the washing machine, dinner is on, the dishwasher is running, both children are dressed, and I had a coffee.

I think I'll get myself dressed now and have another one. (I do my housework in my pyjamas. I'm not sure why).

For lunch he had coarse brown bread, cheese, and stew.

Emer phoned Rob today to tell him that she had yellow pants on.

We haven't had any puddles to clean up yet, either.

And actually, it is. Someone has lit a round tuit under Rob's bum and he's been doing stuff like whoa. He's emptied one side of the attic into the spare room, incidentally agreeing to get rid of a lot of stuff meanwhile, and started finishing the railings from the loft hatch to the stairwell below, a task begun before Linnea was born. We are well on the way to being able to insulate and ceil half the attic²⁰⁶, and once the ceiling is up, we can start building the cupboards under the eaves.

I'm amazed. And delighted.

Spring, huh?

I'll make it if I swear.

Anyway, we stayed up until 1 am cleaning up teeny weeny fragments of broken glass. Naturally the thing smashed in the front room where all the toys and baby stuff is, and what's more, it smashed before we tidied them away, so we hoovered all the toys and blankets and whathaveyou as well as the floor and furnishings. So then Rob was late to work this morning and when I got up I had a mass of clearing to do in the dining room, kitchen and bathroom. I got the bathroom sorted and the children more or less dressed, and a load of laundry hung, and the dishwasher filled, and was partway through clearing the dining room floor when the first BfN person arrived, so she read the kids stories while I cleared the breakfast table and made us a place to work in. Then I checked email and found that no-one else was coming, so we did our thing.

We got one-and-a-bit assignments done₁₇₄. I think it will be easy enough to finish the second one now it's started. Homework groups are basically about motivating each other to actually start, dammit.

Since hardly anyone came, we opened the pack of luxury choc chip cookies₁₇₅ that come with nine to a pack; there were three kids and two adults, so it was almost two each.

We've had lunch now and I've put another dishwasher load on, of casseroles and saucepans and things. I have a headache. And I need to do laundry and remake Linnea's bed and finish clearing the kitchen and start prepping dinner, because we have someone else coming at four for an after-school playdate.

Tomorrow, no-one at all is coming₁₇₆. I think I'm relieved.

Rob says, "Good looking family man with adorable children saves the world. What's not to love?"

Eventually decided it couldn't be cats so I went up and Linnea was emptying her books from her bookcase because she "couldn't sleep."

So I helped her get them off her bed and onto the floor, and tucked her up, and will check on her in a few minutes, maybe.

Good grief.

I need to stay awake until 11 to wake Rob who is working tonight. Luckily, my invigorating bath with Emer and my energetic being-patient-with-Linnea have woken me RIGHT UP.

Also, xkcd 386, I think.

Linnea will be four years old in 20 days. Rob and I have been together 9 years.

I think I'm over the PTSD. Some of the remaining symptoms are just exaggerated symptoms of anxiety anyway, which means I'm down to normal levels of, um, stuff. I'm also very sleep-deprived so not really up to a proper post about it.

But we've been together nine years. It's been eventful. Full of drama, noise, books, clutter, and a growing sense of family. We've both changed a lot, but in the same direction, I think. Nine years ago I couldn't have imagined some of the ethical choices I make now, and nor could Rob. We certainly couldn't have imagined our children.

And there's no way we could have imagined that the birth of our first child would lead to such a horrendous catalogue of mental and physical trauma fucked-up-ness. But we're both off antidepressants. We've both learned to do housework and figured out who was expecting what from whom (and ow, was that a roller-coaster ride through ingrained sexisms!) and, well, it all looks set to continue.

From the outside, it doesn't look like we do much, me and Rob. The changes and growing are all on the inside, and they're slow. But we are both, constantly, changing.

Together.

I love it.

(I also like not being nearly half as mad, yo.)