Friday was relatively peaceful. I left my client at about 12h45, went to my offices, downloaded my emails and then had a farewell lunch for one of my colleagues, with the rest of my colleagues. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t spend the whole afternoon with them; I left at about 3pm to fetch Damien in order to get him back home in time for his first solo appointment with the psych. I left him there (his appointment is an hour) to keep my appointment with the dietician. Yay- I have lost 2.1kg since my last appointment (two weeks ago). She said it is indeed the appetite suppressant that makes my mouth so dry, and suggested I take one every two days if it becomes unbearable (it’s dreadful- I’ve had two litres of water by 11am and my mouth still feels like sandpaper). She is pleased with my progress, and since Virgin has FINALLY activated and approved my membership after having my doctor’s letter for more than a week, I should start losing a little faster now. After fetching Damien from the psych, we went into the nearby mall to look for his girlfriend’s birthday pressie, find a 30th birthday gift for my cousin’s wife, bought gift bags and boxes, bumped into my folks, and then tootled off home. Damien played PS2 and I fell asleep in front of the TV while I was supposed to be watching “Crossing Jordan”. Saturday morning I originally wanted to be up early to get to the bank, but when Damien woke me at 6h30 I just couldn’t get up. I went back to sleep and got up at 8am. Then we went to the mall again, I tried the chemist to fill my prescription but it was just too long a queue. We went looking for the shoes I promised my nephew- couldn’t find his size so put money in his birthday card instead. Then we went to the costume shop to find something for me to wear to my cousin’s wife’s “P party” that night. On Saturday afternoon we were all at sister B to celebrate nephew M’s 13th birthday. Again, my mom and I bought the same birthday card! We did it for nephew D in January as well! Nephew N was happy- he made himself a small fortune. After leaving there I went home to get ready for the “P party”, I decided to be a pirate and so rented a white shirt & waistcoat, two long swords, a musket and a plumed pirate hat. I bought an eye patch I could see through and a hook (which I forgot to wear)! The rest of my outfit came out of my own closet- bandanna under the hat, black pants, black boots and coin bedecked scarf around my waist. I looked fabulous daaahling! My brother and his wife were a punk and pupil (primary school) respectively, the birthday girl was a princess, and her husband was the phantom of the opera. We had a couple of prostitutes, a pizza guy, a priest, one other pirate and a PA (amongst others). The party was held at a pub which has a karaoke setup on a Saturday night, I have known the couple who run the karaoke forever (friends of my folks) and the host kept calling me to ask when I was going to sing- like I’m real good at it or something! In the end I chose My Baby from Nina Simone and ended up standing alone on stage for the whole middle section where there’s no singing, and just proved again that my brother is the singer in the family! I fetched Damien from my folks at about 00h40. Sunday morning we were up in time for church, and I picked up my granny as usual. The service was the usual length, Anglican is usually about 90 minutes to two hours, but what drove me insane and caused me to leave in a bad mood, were all the babies in the congregation, and we have a lot of babies. Maybe I should say it was the fault of all the selfish and inconsiderate parents in the congregation. No-one can expect a baby to keep quiet for that length of time, and I don’t expect the parents to try- but this is the reason we have a cry room. It is extremely distracting when someone’s two year old is running around in the church while mommy sits quietly and enjoys the service. And distracting is not the word when both mommy and daddy are stepping outside every five minutes with baby because he or she is getting restless. Then you have the toddler in the aisle unpacking her baby bag, the toddler just behind us who has learnt to scream at the top of his lungs- and is naturally proud of his achievement! Am I being unreasonable to expect these parents to sit in the cry room? And then of course there’s the other side of the problem- mommy gets big sister to baby-sit in the cry room; and then not a word of the service can be heard over the teens yacking about their weekends & social lives! Catch 22 or what!?! The rest of Sunday was spent doing housework and washing and then watching Alexander on DVD.
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.