Posts Tagged ‘Lego’

I know I’ve said this lots of times, but my son is amazing.


Bailey and the dumbest dog ever. And my foot. Ew.

I love him, I love him, I love him.

I had to take him with me to get blood tests and a scan today. I usually wouldn’t but it was unavoidable and I felt awful about it. People stared a little, sympathy in their eyes as I towed him down a long corridor. My favourite nurse pursed her lips and asked if I wanted to see if the crèche was open.

‘No, he’ll be fine. He’s well-behaved and knows how to sit quietly.’

‘I know he’s lovely, it’s just that if you need to tend to him, we have to start again.’

My son is me. I know him. I can actually feel his feelings, know instinctively how he is going to react in most situations. I felt his pride, ‘I’m almost six, so I know how to be good’, and his offense at being doubted.

‘Honey, you can sit just there quietly and not interrupt, can’t you?’

Eager nodding.

More guilt seeping, the better he is, the worse I feel some days.

After, waiting in the pharmacy, she takes the seat on the other side of him.

‘You’re a well-behaved little mite, I can say that much. I think you deserve a sticker.’

Wide eyes, excited smile ‘Really?’

From behind her back she brings out a whole sticker book, a packet of smarties, a little metal car.

‘This is for being such a good boy for Mummy today. Do you think you can go over there and play while I have a word?’

He looks at me quizzically, I nod so he says ‘Thankyou!’ and scampers off, only to dart back and throw his arms around her, exclaiming ‘I’m so lucky’. She laughs and hugs him back, but I see her eyes fill with tears as he turns away.

Look love’, she begins, ‘I know we probably seem like a group of unfeeling fuddy-duddys sometimes, but in this job, if you don’t have some level of detachment, you’d be crying yourself to sleep.’

‘You don’t seem unfeeling… I couldn’t do what you guys do.’

‘I just’, she fumbles a little, ‘us, me and the other girls, we think you’re fantastic. You’re doing really well. We see all types in here, you know. But we all like to chat to you, even though we wish you didn’t have to come in’

‘Thanks…that means so much’ I probably sound kind of cold, but I can’t have another crying session at the hospital. And I never know what to say when people compliment me.

‘And you’re a good mum. Look at that little treasure. He adores you’

‘He’s wonderful. I don’t think dragging him to the hospital when he should be doing his schoolwork really constitutes good parenting.’ I’m smiling though, so she does too.

‘Because of this unfair mess, he’ll have empathy and resilience in bucket-loads. Don’t forget that, love.’ She pats my shoulder as she walks out.


I always try really hard not to spoil him out of guilt. I want him to know what it’s like to really, really want things, to have to work for them, know how much more stuff means when you’ve earnt it.

‘We need to stop at the shop baby, can you think of anything we need?’

‘Toys’, he jokes, grinning at me in the mirror.

I laugh, ‘How about some bananas and milk, um bread…something for dinner?’

‘Where are we going?’ he asks suddenly, a few minutes later, noticing we’ve veered off our usual route.

‘Just a different shop’

‘This looks like the toy shop!’, as we pull into the parking lot.

We hop out of the car, him asking if we need to buy a present, why are we here, can we look for a little while. I pick him up, struggling under his weight. Balancing him on my hip, I stroke his cheek and say, ‘Pick any toy you want’.

He’s confused ‘What for?’

‘Just because I love you and I want to buy you something.’

We’re there for about an hour, and I don’t rush him. I let him look at bikes, cricket sets, remote control aeroplanes. Eventually he picks up a little container of slime, $4.99.

‘Can I have this?’

‘Really? Are you sure you don’t want something different?’

‘I’ll keep looking’

Eventually I steer him to the Lego aisle (islands, he calls them), and catch him gazing up at the big Lego city boxes, even while he’s holding a much more reasonable fire truck set.

‘Do you want the big box?’

The look on his face is like all his Christmas‘, birthdays and special treats have come together.

‘But it’s huge-mongous. I bet it’s really expensive.’

‘If that’s what you want the most, lets buy it.’

He grins as I hand him the box. It’s a lot wider than he is, but he manages to get it up to the counter, and is almost vibrating as I pay and chat to the checkout chick.

‘I can’t believe I just got that! THANKS MUMMY!!’

It doesn’t make up for anything. But holy crap, it was good to suspend reality and day to day shit for a little while. To not ‘be sensible’.

Today, he just felt heaven sent.


I’m so annoyed my iphone is in the shop, because I’d love to show you guys a picture of him holding the box.

I’m so grateful for him, for kind nurses, teddy bears, sunsets, my friends, soft sheets, love in every form. I’m grateful I express myself writing, otherwise I don’t know what I’d do.

Much love


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Happy Birthday to my beautiful darling boy! Bailey is 4 years old today and I almost can’t believe it.  It does not seem anywhere near 4 years ago that I was handed a squirmy sweet smelling little bundle of blanket, and told by a totally overbearing midwife ” KISS YOUR BABY!”.  I mean yes, love at first sight, but not totally blind to the bits of ick stuck to his head.  The Dr who performed my caesarian said Bailey was probably the most alert newborn he’d even seen.  Right from the start he had these intense eyes that would just bore into you.  It was quite funny in the theater because 3 out of the 6? people were called Craig.

Craig.  My husband, although I suppose I could almost call him my ex husband, or my estranged husband.  I don’t know how we got here.  He is coming up for dinner tonight and staying over so we can talk tomorrow, and I am terrified.  I don’t really know what of – he has never gotten physical with me, and to be brutally honest with myself, if one of us were to lose our temper badly enough to get to that point, it would be me.  I’m worried and hopeful we might end up having sex, that I might end up in a complete mess, that he’ll end up saying its over but I really don’t know why I am feeling so genuinely terrified.

Today a friend asked me if I thought I would compete my young horse when he comes back into work.  It feels quite strange to say the question totally blindsided me, because it just seemed so far out of my reality.  I felt like she may as well have asked if I thought I might go and live in Africa in 2035.  And then I felt so so sad because I used to have  dreams, and goals and a life.  I used to really care about stuff and wish for more than being able to stay in remission, and to be able to afford to keep my house and everyone fed.  Life was about more than keeping my head above water.

So I made an immediate goal to get back to the point where I can consider what I might want, not just what I need.  I know its going to take time – alot of it probably.  Time for the C.A.N.C.E.R. to shrink, time for Craig and I to either get our shit together, or for us to part and for me to get my shit together.  Time for me to heal emotionally and physically.  Because I have been through alot, too much really and I am starting to realize the toll it has taken.  And yes, some of it I brought on myself, I have made some bad choices, but some of it was so far beyond my control I would never have imagined it happening in my life.

My head is not a happy place to be these days.


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Soooo I just read over my last post and….oh dear…psycho much?

I’d love to say I’m feeling better and have regained sanity but in the interest of honesty, no I’m not and no I haven’t.

‘He’ is coming up for dinner tomorrow and lets just say it is a lucky thing Bailey decided on finger type food for his birthday dinner.  Because I don’t trust myself anywhere near ‘him’ with cutlery in my hands at this point in timeBut I still miss him horribly.  Yes.  I know.  Pathetic.

Wow, my eye twitch is back.

‘He’ wants to stay the night, and talk the next day while Bailey is at daycare.  Last week I would have been all for this.  But after the last, like 5 nights I am not so sure.  I am not sure how long I will be able to keep my temper for, but am guessing not an extended period of time if he starts his man style passive aggressive non caring bullshit.  Ahem.

The little man of the house is celebrating his 4th birthday tomorrow.  Pretty exciting stuff, slightly heartbreaking for his mummy :(.  He knows one present he is getting – LEGO!! – but have gotten him some surprises too and we have an exciting day planned. Well exciting for a 4 year old. Sigghhh. OK, I need to have a sentimental mummy whinge and then I will move on. OK? Okay.  I just can’t believe that my tiny little helpless baby is now this running, jumping, talking, laughing, climbing tornado of a little boy. I miss my baby, miss that warm milky sweet smell. Sob sob. Done.


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