Hieronymous I walk with you/When I'm sleeping
You know your workplace culture is suffering (or that you’ve made a huge mistake) when you can go 90 minutes without anyone commenting on the fact that you’ve had six inches of length removed from your hair. NINETY MINUTES. Maybe they thought that I’d been sacked and another girl with shorter hair and yet the SAME CLOTHES had come to work at my desk.
Facebook is starting to weird me out. There is a woman I went to high school with who has become friends with one of my friends. I’m not sure how they know each other, but worlds are colliding. Facebook also seems to consider my surname some kind of fragment of other people’s surnames, which is disconcerting. Even more disturbing, I had an email on Facebook from a guy who claims I am “famous” (oh Lord, how I’m not). That was somewhat flattering if completely baseless.
There is something about gorgeous year-old boy-children (this one the son of my friends MW and Buddy) reaching out to be held by you when they haven’t seen you in three months and rightly shouldn’t remember you at all that makes one yearn. But I’ve learned not to confuse a vague sense of exhaustion and mild discontent with the desire to be pregnant, and will satisfy myself with the cuddles of my own and our nearest and dearest.
In the words of Juliana Hatfield, I miss my sister (again - no doubt long-time readers will consider this a recurring theme). I know she is having a rough time of it at the moment and wish I could do something to make her feel better.
Grizzlewick had his first ever night terror on Tuesday, and woke up screaming that he wanted to go home. He wouldn’t be convinced that he was already home, and wailed for Mr Fix. When Mr Fix came to comfort him, he wet himself, standing on the bedroom floor. When I stripped him to change his clothes, he tried three times to get into a dry bath, which we eventually ran for him. We were so frightened we called “Nurse on Call” because it seemed to us that he might well be in the throes of some deeper delirium. He told me this morning that he had a dream that he “had some keys and he was at home, but he couldn’t see the car and he didn’t know where you and daddy were”.
Do you ever have those days when it becomes patently clear that the only reason someone doesn’t like an idea is because you thought of it? I have assisted in the design of a functional, inclusive, warms-the-cockles campaign for work recently. One of our usual partners didn’t sign on for it. So now, any opportunity they get, they run it down. That is one thing. But does it explain why, when I emailed them to ask for the details of their campaign (which is not in competition with ours) so that I could PROMOTE it for them, they just….never got back to me. I don’t got girl germs (no returns). WTF is their problem, that’s what I want to know.
I am actually ahead of budget this pay period. I don’t know how that happened, but it did. Were that it was always like this. And now that John Brumby is going to pay me not to move back to Melbourne (or so he claims) I am so totally set.
Grizzlewick presented me with a gift this afternoon, which was weird considering he's been on a present-receiving jag of epic proportions. He had hidden my gift under his bed, and made me play an elaborate game of "hot" and "cold" to find it. When I opened it, it became clear he was supposed to save it until Sunday, but what a bumper collection of kids' craft! I received:
1. A laminated poster of his handprints, along with a picture of me (with short hair! He's a fast learner!)
2. A teapot shaped card with a small pocket inside containing a tea-bag and a message reminding me to "have a break"
3. A red self-stapled envelope with "Mum" written on it in Grizzlewick's own hand which held a mini Crunchie and a mini Picnic
4. A notepad with a photo of Grizzlewick on the front, and more decorations
5. A bookmark with curled ribbon attached and another picture of the young GW's head
Awwwww. Cute.
I see some one has the bright idea that live organ donation is not just a Monty Python sketch. Ha ha ha – anyone who thinks they want my kidneys is welcome to them. Also – dearest reader who came here wondering "what a double-kidney infection means"…if you have to ask, you don’t have a double-kidney infection. Believe me, the incontinence and searing pain abdominal pain are pretty hard to miss.
I might come up with something more coherent than this by the end of the week. Then again, I may not.
Facebook is starting to weird me out. There is a woman I went to high school with who has become friends with one of my friends. I’m not sure how they know each other, but worlds are colliding. Facebook also seems to consider my surname some kind of fragment of other people’s surnames, which is disconcerting. Even more disturbing, I had an email on Facebook from a guy who claims I am “famous” (oh Lord, how I’m not). That was somewhat flattering if completely baseless.
There is something about gorgeous year-old boy-children (this one the son of my friends MW and Buddy) reaching out to be held by you when they haven’t seen you in three months and rightly shouldn’t remember you at all that makes one yearn. But I’ve learned not to confuse a vague sense of exhaustion and mild discontent with the desire to be pregnant, and will satisfy myself with the cuddles of my own and our nearest and dearest.
In the words of Juliana Hatfield, I miss my sister (again - no doubt long-time readers will consider this a recurring theme). I know she is having a rough time of it at the moment and wish I could do something to make her feel better.
Grizzlewick had his first ever night terror on Tuesday, and woke up screaming that he wanted to go home. He wouldn’t be convinced that he was already home, and wailed for Mr Fix. When Mr Fix came to comfort him, he wet himself, standing on the bedroom floor. When I stripped him to change his clothes, he tried three times to get into a dry bath, which we eventually ran for him. We were so frightened we called “Nurse on Call” because it seemed to us that he might well be in the throes of some deeper delirium. He told me this morning that he had a dream that he “had some keys and he was at home, but he couldn’t see the car and he didn’t know where you and daddy were”.
Do you ever have those days when it becomes patently clear that the only reason someone doesn’t like an idea is because you thought of it? I have assisted in the design of a functional, inclusive, warms-the-cockles campaign for work recently. One of our usual partners didn’t sign on for it. So now, any opportunity they get, they run it down. That is one thing. But does it explain why, when I emailed them to ask for the details of their campaign (which is not in competition with ours) so that I could PROMOTE it for them, they just….never got back to me. I don’t got girl germs (no returns). WTF is their problem, that’s what I want to know.
I am actually ahead of budget this pay period. I don’t know how that happened, but it did. Were that it was always like this. And now that John Brumby is going to pay me not to move back to Melbourne (or so he claims) I am so totally set.
Grizzlewick presented me with a gift this afternoon, which was weird considering he's been on a present-receiving jag of epic proportions. He had hidden my gift under his bed, and made me play an elaborate game of "hot" and "cold" to find it. When I opened it, it became clear he was supposed to save it until Sunday, but what a bumper collection of kids' craft! I received:
1. A laminated poster of his handprints, along with a picture of me (with short hair! He's a fast learner!)
2. A teapot shaped card with a small pocket inside containing a tea-bag and a message reminding me to "have a break"
3. A red self-stapled envelope with "Mum" written on it in Grizzlewick's own hand which held a mini Crunchie and a mini Picnic
4. A notepad with a photo of Grizzlewick on the front, and more decorations
5. A bookmark with curled ribbon attached and another picture of the young GW's head
Awwwww. Cute.
I see some one has the bright idea that live organ donation is not just a Monty Python sketch. Ha ha ha – anyone who thinks they want my kidneys is welcome to them. Also – dearest reader who came here wondering "what a double-kidney infection means"…if you have to ask, you don’t have a double-kidney infection. Believe me, the incontinence and searing pain abdominal pain are pretty hard to miss.
I might come up with something more coherent than this by the end of the week. Then again, I may not.
posted by gigglewick at
10:53 pm
10 Comments:
i really like the sound of all this craft!
if only it didnt have to come with night terrors and bed wetting etc etc. sounds like they must be truly terrifying for all parties.
That sounds like suspiciously good craftiness. I'm super-jealous. But it also sounds like you needed an early MD prez, even if it is only a Hallmark Holiday.
And they didn't notice your hair? FOR REALS???
This has made be realise just how soon I need to get the boys to work on craft projects. Deadlines are looming.
Sorry to hear about teh night terrors. Bundle started waking up screaming that the room was full of elephants about a year ago but he seems to have moved past it for now.
Grizzlewick continues to rock.
Mex,
Re craft - it's all highly amusing. I'm doing my best not to be patronising, but it is VERY CUTE.
Re night terrors: Yeah. I could do without it.
AB,
For reals. Then when I saw a woman who works in another office this morning she almost burst into tears that I had cut my hair off.
INCraig,
I hope you're keeping them up until they've built some elaborate candy bird cage filled with real live turtle doves and gilt flowers.
Or somesuch.
As previously acknowledged, night terrors are the pits.
The inbreeding throughout Facebook is starting to creep me out, too.
It's not me is it Rosanna - I'm pretty sure you're young enough that mostly I can't be interferin' in your networks.... :)
Oh, cutting off hair is a wonderful thing. Other women just get freaked out because they're too scared to do it themselves! (I knew someone once who kept her hair really long because it made her feel safe, the idea alone of cutting it off freaked her out. She's a hairdresser.)
And those gifts sound awesome! Reminds me of stuff I used to give my mum.
I used to get her hair fairly accurate too - one mothers day drawing of her (with circles for knees - not so accurate) that I did in grade one included real hair glued on. I had cut it from my own head. (Boy. Did I know how to impress!)
Well, I know for a fact (because I saw them carrying them out of school and home on the bus all the while pretending I couldn't see them, then heard them talking about whether or not I would notice if they just gave me the box without its contents, general consensus = no) that my children have already eaten the Mother's Day 'present' they made me at school.
Which makes me a touch pissed off that I got out of bed to nurse the youngest one through those night terrors.
Ahem. Anyway, looking to the future...
This comment has been removed by the author.
I too have had 6 inches sliced off my hair last week and no-one, anywhere even noticed. It got to the point that I asked Thing 1 and Thing 2 if they noticed anything different about me and after much thought they decided my voice was deeper! I'd find you on fb if I knew where to look.
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