More Diary than Blog - Meandering Thoughts

Its strange what hits you emotionally sometimes. Tonight I realised that I had 6 white Christmas’ and that I wish I had treasured them more. I thought I was going to have the rest of my lifetime of white Christmas’, but I only had 6 and that realisation has reduced me to tears. I so desperately miss my life in Canada. Who would have thought that possible?

I got the official offer (and congratulations) letter from the university today – finally. The sad part is that I don't feel like opening the bottle of champagne to celebrate. I just want to curl up and cry a bit more. I'm exhausted just thinking about what subject(s) I am going to study the next semester. The subjects of offer are a wee bit (read extremely) boring but I have to get this fourth year out of the way. Ugh. I wish I hadn’t accepted that teaching job straight out of third year and opted instead to complete the forth year way back when dinosaurs walked the earth and I was in university for the first time.

I've been baking like a mad woman lately. All kinds of slices and biscuits to be exact, although I did make a flourless chocolate cake for one of mum’s friends who is allergic to wheat. I have discovered the most Devine chocy fudge biscuit that had over 500g (almost two pounds) of three different types of chocolate in it. Calorific or what? But totally worth it. I should take a photo of the biscuits they are that damn good. They have Cherry Ripes in them and I am thinking that Peppermint Crisp would work just as well. *drool*

Spoke to Game Boy for around 43 seconds last Sunday night. He said he was off to church, but it was 8am his time. I'm not sure that most churches are even open at that time let alone have a service then…. I think he was trying to blow me off. I have repeatedly asked him to get Sweetpea’s health records out to me because the Aussie doctors wont give her any immunisations without knowing what she had in Canada and she is now a year behind. He kept saying “Find somewhere for me to fax them to you” and I kept telling him it isn’t a option, snail mail them to me. I swear he repeated the fax issue three times in 28 seconds (in a 43 second conversation). I want to scream at him, “This is your daughters health you are wasting arguments on”, but what would it achieve? Nothing. All I can hope is that he gets the records to me. And yes, I have rung the health clinic personally, but it still didn’t come through. I think they are now demanding payment and Kathy (the receptionist for my doctor there) didn’t know it and the paediatrician is being stubborn. Either way, my daughter’s health is being compromised and when I go to enrol her at school I will be up poop creek because children here have to be immunised or go through a million hoops to prove why they aren’t. I still really like the idea of home schooling but I fear the government will stop my single parent pension and demand I go out and work to support my daughter and myself. Being a single, stay at home parent isn’t an option with this government, which puts an end to the home schooling option. That option is only for the super rich or the child lucky enough to have two parents.

Mum keeps telling me to cut Sweetpea's hair because its getting in her eyes. I have told her in no uncertain terms that I am NOT giving me child a mullet hair cut to get the hair out of her eyes. I suffered years with short (boy length) hair and I will not make my daughter suffer likewise. Mum swears it was to thicken my hair. Bullocks. You have as many hair follicles as you will ever have and you cant change anything but keeping the hair super short for years. It was only when people kept calling me a boy in front of her in shopping centres that she finally relented and allowed me to grow my hair long. I am simply wanting Sweetpea's hair to grow from the crown of her head to near the nape of her neck so that I can have to cut into a bob of sorts when she finally has enough hair for a first hair cut! Mums constant nagging has meant that now every morning I have to beg Sweetpea to let me put her hair up in a piggy tail to keep her face hair free, which, I have to tell you, she does not appreciate at all. We have fights (lord, she is only two!) of me saying “Pleeeeeeeeease Sweetpea?” and her saying “No!” repeatedly. All I can hope is that her hair grows quickly. When I look back on Good Friday photos her hair wasn’t as thick as it is now, so there is hope! I want to get my hair cut.

I watched the movie “The Family Stone” tonight. In words of a great Scottish lass I know around this OD joint, it sucked big hairy donkey balls. Boring doesn’t come close to describing it. Equally disappointing was the movie “Little Miss Sunshine”, which is really frustrating because I spent $16 on the damn thing. Barrrrrr-humbug. Which makes me miss the pawn shop that was a 15 minute walk from my home in Ottawa, which had DVD’s for $5. I miss my life in Ottawa.

My sister has officially popped at 15 weeks. It isn’t easy to always be happy for her. Its my own issue of overwhelming jealousy. I had to tell Mum that she was ripping my heart out every time to started to talk about how she hoped it was a girl and that I should be handing over all my stuff to Laywer Girl. I told her that if she knew my prayers were to have another child somehow, why would she ask me to give my stuff away. That you only give baby stuff away when you have finished having babies. I hope that she shuts up about it, because I am not ready to hand over any of my things (my memories and hopes) to Laywer Girl and BIL. I want to hang on to them for now.

Its become a routine that when I go into the shower and have my hair wet and plastered to my back Sweetpea opens the door and puckers up for a kiss. I think its really because she likes the fiant feeling of water showering over her, but it could also be because she wants to kiss me. I’ll take the second option.