The Elfling and the Monkey have been on holidays this past week. Holidays filled with grandparents, chocolate, and most beautifully of all, each other. While the Elfling can be both bossy and very superior, she absolutely adores her little sister and the feel is mutual. Every day has seen the house full of giggles, laughing and incredible mischief as they make an amazing mess wherever they go on their little adventures. The last week has seen them giggle well after bedtime, and checking on them later reveal two curly heads in one bed, refusing to be separated in sleep.
They have built cubby houses and made fruit salad and have "cleaned" the bathroom by making cubic metres of bubbles in the sink to spread all over the room and had terrific fun while doing so. So much fun, that when Mummy loses her cool over the empty bottle of handwash and the snowed in bathroom that there have been long sideways glances and smothered laughter to let me know that their apologies were only half hearted.
I have calmed down a lot this week. Surprisingly the news about the Possum has made me slow down a lot and to think some more. He is still moving a lot, and I can manipulate him down into my pelvis at the moment, but every time I go to sleep he sneaks back into that sideways position. This is very frustrating because I Do. Not. Want. A. Caesarian. At. All. Ever. I do surgery very badly as a patient, and the helplessness of having 3 children to look after, days after major abdominal surgery without being able to drive is enough to drive me into full on panic mode. So instead I am focused on forcing this stubborn child head down. Even if I have to sleep standing up.
I am supposed to be at work at the moment, halfway through a shift. But I actually took some advice and am at home instead, lying down, having an early night. I have been feeling sick/nauseous again and I really need to rest. I feel guilty about not going to work, however as Bingley pointed out, sick leave is for when you are not well enough to go to work, and tonight, I am not well enough to go to work.
Bingley has been my knight in shining armour the last few weeks. Picking up the slack in the domestic department, calming me in my hysteria and generally, keeping us all together. He also is being mostly very good about my tiredness and reluctance to do any energetic "baby dancing" (my god how I hate that euphemism). Between work, and my mental state, I am really not going there, which is pretty unfair after then 25+ weeks of vomitous "not going there". The mere fact that he is still attracted to me at the moment is pretty impressive considering the tearful, shrieky, narcoleptic harpie that I've become.
I am so much looking forward to finishing work. I feel guilty at how much I have whinged here, to friends, to Bingley, to relatives, to anyone silly enough to sit within a 5 mile radius of me in the last few weeks as I've been completely overwhelmed. I am still doing well at work now, but it is becoming forced, and superficial and I know I need to stop work, so am glad there's only a week (5 shifts) left.