I have spent the past two nights off of the computer and have gotten so much stuff done…

…and, so, I am going to keep it up and stay off of the computer for a little while.  Here are some of the latest pictures to tide you over until I return.

And when were you going to tell me that you had brought cookies to the picnic? Hmm…?

I tried photo-shopping out the glass of bubbly, but you can totally still tell that it’s there, can’t you?

You’re doing great, Dad, but you need to go around five more times. Five.

Picnic in the park.

There was a hole. There was stick. There were two children poking the stick into the hole.

Juuust…about…there.

I see your camera and I raise you a dripping face and a cheeky grin.

 

A post in which I tell you that our architect is submitting the planning amendment within the week.

Our architect is submitting the planning amendment within the week.  Within the week!!  (Yes, two exclamation marks.)

I can’t quite believe that we are that much closer to having a house (and my husband his garage and workshop).  We also have a game plan for the mortgage, which husband has in hand, and which would mean that the build would not have to be delayed while we try to find a self-build mortgage for a self-employed contractor who was out of work for six months just over a year ago.  At least, I think that is what he said.  I often get these things wrong.

Ladies and gentlemen.  Friends and family.  May I introduce to you…our new home!  (Round of applause, Kermit flailing his arms.)

Once permission has been granted — no I do not know what the time line is likely to be for that — we then move on to detailed drawings.  Any hints or tips about where electrical outlets and lighting should be?  Don’t be shy.

 

Have you every had to remain cheerful and reassuring while you were heaving up breakfast and lunch? No, me neither until today.

The girls, it need not be said, followed me into the bathroom and watched with great curiosity while I vomited† into the toilet.   In between heaves, I kept smiling and saying, “Mommy is vomiting,” in a cheerful and reassuring voice.  No tears on their part, so I guess they were not traumatized.

†Not pregnant, just the same bug the girls had twelve hours earlier.

 

Toddler poo? Not a problem! I can’t smell it.

Except that it is a problem, as is evidenced by the large dollop of poo that fell out of Freya’s extremely full, my-god-I-have-no-idea-how-long-she-has-had-a-dirty-diaper, diaper and landed on our (beige) carpet.

I can’t smell poo.  I can’t smell most things.  The lilacs and tea roses that are out just now?  Nothing.  Not unless I stick my nose right in them and sniff really hard and then I only get the faintest of scents.  Lilacs and tea roses, y’all!  Do you have any idea how strong their scent is?  Walk past a bush and get punched, that’s how strong.  Garlic?  I can only smell it when it is freshly crushed.  My fridge has had an open container of (cooked) garlic prawns in it for the past week.  What do I smell when I open the fridge?  Nothing, that’s what I smell.

It is a bit scary and is definitely upsetting, not being able to smell very well, mostly because it means that food no longer has much flavour and I don’t know whether it has gone off.  The doctor didn’t seemed fazed by my lack of smell and offered no follow-up.  He didn’t seem to think that it was a problem.  It is a problem, however, to me.  Back near the beginning of the year, I had a wicked sinus infection that lasted for weeks.  I was told it was most likely viral and nothing could be done — no swabs were taken and no tests run.  So, I went home and rode it out.  The infection did go away, but so did about 60% of my sense of smell.  It didn’t faze me much, because it didn’t seem to affect my sense of taste and I could still smell everything — I had to be six feet from the girls to be able to smell their poo, instead of being able to smell it from across the room.  No big deal.  Then two weeks ago I was in the throws of another sinus infection.  This one lasted only about a week, but for three days of that week I could not smell anything and I could not taste food.   The fresh mint I bought as a treat for myself?  It tasted of grass when chewed and of nothing when made into tea.  Fried eggs?  The taste and texture of plastic.

I felt overwhelmed.

Confounded.

I was stunned.

My sinus infection is now gone.  Some of my sense of smell has returned.  I maybe have 10-20% of what it should be.  Toddler poo?  I can sometimes smell it when the dirty diaper is open and I’m leaning right over it.  Food?  I can taste the mint in my tea, again.  Food that has gone off?  Can’t smell it.  Yay for me!

Except, not yay for me.

 

Milestone at 19 months

Nope.  Not a milestone for the girls: a milestone for me.  Are you ready for it?

Today, for the first time since the girls were born (19 months ago), my shirt was clean at the end of the day and I will be able to wear it again without having first to wash it.

No breast milk.  No snot. No food that has dropped and hit my (much larger, they didn’t go down after I stopped breast-feeding even though it’s been 10 months and I’m a bit pissed about that) shelf.

I know.

 

These pictures have been sitting on my desktop for months. MONTHS, y’all.

Yep. It’s our own little Jesus impersonator.

And this one is holding the collection bucket.

Crazy Daracha-face. We don’t know why she makes it, but we’re glad she does.  Paint her dark brown and call her a Klingon.

And here she is impersonating an imp. I know she’s my own kid which means that I am biased, but how frickin’ whimsical is that expression?

Sleeping feet: oh, how I love them.

Sleeping baby o’ mine.  The eyelashes get me, every time.

 

Awards and such. (I stole this title from the woman who gave me the award.)

The lovely (she must be, she gave me this award) and articulate Carli from Raising Mayhem has kindly given me the Very Inspiring Blogger award.  I don’t mind saying that I’m a wee bit gobsmacked.  First, I didn’t realise she followed my blog. (Sorry, I don’t look at the ‘following’ list very often).  Second…who ever expects to get an award merely for posting pictures of their kids? Certainly not me.

This is all going to my head.

But first things, first:  there are rules to be followed if I want to play along (and I do want to play along).

1. Link back to the blogger who nominated you.  Accomplished in paragraph one.

2. Post the award image to your page.  Done.

3. Share 7 facts about yourself. Hmmm. Here goes…

•  I am desperate to start new craft projects before I have finished the old ones.  This used to be a big problem, but I have learned over the years to first finish the craft I began.  This was not an easy lesson to learn and is a very hard thing to continue to do.
• I used to have an embroidery thread fetish, and then it was tea-towels, and then it was paper, and then it was ribbon, and then it was material.  In fact, it is still material, but something tells me that it is going to be wool next and possibly very soon.
• I no longer loathe pink and even find myself attracted to it (but, strangely, only when wedded with green).  Please don’t tell anyone.
• I don’t iron my husband’s shirts.  In fact, I don’t iron.
• I still re-read the Anne of Green Gables series.  Even though I’m 39, I still find the young Anne’s outlook on life something to strive towards.
• Sometimes I think about how much easier my life would have been if the second round of IVF hadn’t worked.  I picture places I might be living and things I might be doing.  Usually, I’m in a tropical country living next to an azure ocean.  I wear a big sunhat.  I never wear shoes and there are no bugs.   I have yet to work out how this lifestyle is paid for.
• I shave my legs about three times a year.  Maybe four if it’s a warm summer.

4. Nominate 15 other blogs you find inspiring and inform them about it.

Ummm…I’m going to have to get back to you about this one.  Sorry.  It’s not that I don’t find other blogs inspiring, it’s just that it is going to take me a while to decide who, out of the blogs that I do read, might actually want the award.  That, and I have other things to do tonight.  It’s just the way it is.