So today I had one of *those* doctors appointments, the kind women look forward to on a biennial basis, thank you Dr Papanicolaou. I decided to go to one of the doctors at the surgery I’ve used for various appointments for the children since we moved, I chose her because she specialises in womens health. She doesn’t specialise in making things sound nice though …

The procedure itself was fine, but it’s always so surreal,  lying back and trying to pretend you are somewhere else while keeping up your end of the chatty conversation. This one was even weirder than usual … in between comments and questions about why we chose Copenhagen, did I speak Danish etc etc she’d pop in little gems suchs as “I strongly recommend you get a thin smear as well … it does cost a little extra …”  and a short time later “I’ll put you on a different pap test advisory register, they are more reliable … it does cost a little extra …”.

There is something distinctly uncomfortable about being upsold for a pap smear while it’s underway, you feel like you need to agree with everything that’s offered or they’ll use the *cold* speculum. But it was nothing like the freakiness of her announcing “Oh, I might as well have a feel around while I’m in here” and following up with “how are your breasts? Do you want me to feel them as well?”. Um, let me guess … it costs a little extra??

Glad that’s over for another two years!

A little while ago, maybe two or three months, I had one of those strange experiences that start as a small, insignificant moment and become something quite different.

I saw a woman who was a mutual friend with one of the girls I lived with in student accommodation while I was at uni. I’d fallen out of contact with my former housemate some years ago, and had been thinking for a while that I’d like to contact her just to see where she was up to. I casually asked our mutual friend if she’d been in contact with my former housemate and the outcome of that question, that I almost hadn’t even asked, was to discover my friend has a very young child who had been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing treatment.

Tonight I learnt that her little boy is not going to make it. There’s nothing more that can be done. And while I’m crying for that tiny boy who in his short life has experienced more pain and suffering than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime, I keep imagining what it must be like - but I can’t really.

How can you face life without your child? How can you pack a lifetime of love into the pitifully few shorts days you’ve been given? How do you even stop thinking about the nightmare long enough to savour those precious moments ou have left? How do you contemplate a life that’s hardly begun being over so soon? All your dreams and hopes … I don’t know how you can face that and stay sane.

It sounds so banal to say it but it makes me realise and remember how very blessed I am. When I’m frustrated and tired and sick of it all … I can’t even finish that sentence, it makes me feel sick.

I am uncomfortably aware that everything I’ve written is the same thing everyone says in a situation like this but the situation itself is so wrong, there is a kind of numbness that goes with it, and you can only think in cliches and banalities.

Sometimes, life really sucks.

We are about 2.5 months into this six month stint of him working away during the week, and tonight, right now, I have officially reached my limit. This has been a particularly shitty week, culminating tonight with Hugo waking at midnight with a fever and rigoring. It’s not the first time he’s reacted to illness like this. Last winter was quite bad and involved several bouts of tonsilitis and a trip to the ED at the children’s hospital. This winter hasn’t been so bad other than a frightening episode of croup early in the season.

I consider myself so lucky that my children are generally well, healthy children, other than the usual colds and occasional stomach virus. Nonetheless, when they do get sick it can be really scary. Tonight when he woke up whimpering and shaking uncontrollably I was so scared. I thought it was probably ‘normal’ illness but at midnight, when you’ve got no-one to bounce ideas off, to share the fear with, and you’re the only one responsible, it’s scary. I brought him into my bed where he eventually settled and fell asleep, only to wake shortly after with a high fever, more rigoring and vomit spectacularly in my bed.

I hate doing this on my own … not just the gross stuff, like cleaning up vomit … but the emotional stuff, holding a sobbing, frightened baby and soothing him while inside all I want is *my* mummy to come and make it all better (and believe me, when *I* want my mummy, things are pretty grim).

I really resent all the time he is away from us, leaving me to pick up the pieces and carry on, envying him his full night vomit free sleep, his Tuesday night dinners with his colleagues, being able to pee and shower without an audience. Meanwhile I am here coping (or not) with one child who won’t eat and one who won’t stop eating, juggling bedtimes and trying to give them each some special one-on-one time without neglecting the other, trying to think of fun things we can do and usually failing.

I absolutely don’t know how single parents do this day in and day out without a break in sight.

I know he’s doing this because he’s paid to, and his high paying job means I can stay at home with the children but tonight it’s just not worth it It’s not good for our family and it’s not good for our marriage.

Scandinavia. Which means either Copenhagen or Stockholm. It’s good to finally know.

Preschool started today. He was soooo happy to go, it was all he could do to kiss me goodbye.

With all my ‘free time’ (I love how there is an assumption I have so much free time while he is at preschool) I decided to go to the supermarket and have a look at Target and KMart … we’re having a family “Christmas in July” on the weekend and I need to get some small gifts for the Kris Kringle.

So I unwittingly wandered into Target and it was like I’d accidently fallen into another universe, filled with wild-eyed women with heaving bosoms, grabbing at everything they could lay their hands on, staring maniacally into one another’s trolleys in case *SHOCK HORROR* someone got something they wanted! Jostling for position in the laybye queue, blocking aisles with their multiple trolley loads. It was really intimidating.

I’ve spent enough time lurking on parenting forums to know these sales always bring out the worst in people, but I’ve never actually experienced the insanity first hand until this morning. Target has had toy sale bunting up for so long now, I just assumed the sales had been and gone. And the loads people had … I think my children are spoilt with toys, but even I was shocked at the amount people were buying, I’m telling myself they have lots of children or were buying for others.

I can’t help but wonder if the dollar value of the savings is worth the stress of it though.

*November 29th is International Buy Nothing Day.