More knees

So, the strapping worked really well. Loved it. But physio lady wanted to give ultra-sound a shot. Stressed that it would have been better when the knee was first injured but thought it was worth a go.

Wheeeeeee! My knee is fantastic! Now, it could all be a coincidence, with the exercises, strapping and not running for a week all combining for a great result. But, honestly? I think it was the ultra-sound machine. It felt great from that day on. Three more sessions and it still feels great. Test will be Friday when I go for a run. I've been doing plenty of walking, gym and karate, but Friday morning I'll go for a run and then see the physio in the afternoon. I so hope that it stays good.

I'm going around without thinking, 'knee hurts, knee hurts, knee hurts' at every step. And that is a miracle after 5 weeks of 'ouch' every step!

Ouch!

I have been having physio on a dicky knee for the last few weeks, and last week she decided to try strapping it. I had no idea what this meant but it sounded like fun so I said sure. Ten minutes later I left the building with a few bits of tape around my knee and thinking that this was quite pathetic and no way would this help my knee.

Two days later I was very reluctant to take it off (she said to remove it after 48 hours) because it was like a miracle! I had no pain in my knee for two days and I could run, do karate and climb stairs with no discomfort at all! I couldn’t believe that such a simple thing could have such a big effect.

Anyway 10 minutes later in the shower I was really reluctant to remove the strapping because it HURT! I have never bothered shaving my legs above the knee. There doesn't seem to be much hair there and I rarely wear skirts that short. But, wow, oh yes indeed, there is hair there and it was determined to hang on to both the tape and my leg and I was in agony. Much worse than waxing because I couldn't get a good pull on the tape it was so wound in on itself. I could only tug half an inch at a time. Agony!

I was down there on Monday again and explained how brilliant the strapping had performed and how my knee was unstable and sore again after only a day out of the strapping. So, after the exercises and so on she said, ‘I might strap that up again.’ I said 'Sure!'

This morning in the shower, again agony, wince, wince! But I am prepared for the next visit; I have shaved up a little higher than usual :-)

One fish

Went out fishing with my Ex again this morning. I was already to take Jack down to the Farmer’s market for a bacon buttie for breakfast when he called. Apparently the sea was flat, the weather was warm, and he really, really, needed a boat driver.

My two older sons were unavailable and Zoë was going to have her first snorkeling attempt out in the deep. How could I refuse? Well, I did hesitate for a bit. I had promised Jack that bacon buttie and my husband isn’t very keen on me going on expeditions with the ex-husband. But, what the hey? He is away in Auckland at a conference and then a tiki tour of Pahia in the Bay of Islands, and so I went.

It was a flat sea and lovely warm weather and I’m getting better with the boat handling – even managing to drive it up onto the trailer when coming home. But flat as it was I ended up with a queasy stomach – probably from a guilty conscience.
Zoë wasn’t allowed a go with the spear gun, but she had a bit of a splash with Ben’s super long flippers and saw a few fish big enough to eat. Stephen only got one fish, enough to feed the family though. This is Zoë measuring the paua.They have to be 125mm long. Last weekend they got hauled up by a fisheries officer and had their catch painstakingly measured. Unfortunately Ben had made the measure a couple of mm short and 11 of their 40 Paua were judged undersize. They got off with a warning but it was scary Zoë said, as the officers have the power to take your boat, car and gear if you break limits on size and quantity.

Back in town by 2pm and Jack got a chocolate croissant for lunch instead of a bacon buttie for breakfast. Happy all around?

Breasts are go!

Today I bought a chest guard; complete with a nifty wee crop top so it doesn’t lose it’s position, and a pair of kickers! Guys wear groin guards and the ladies protect their breasts :-)

I now have all the gear for sparring (mouth guard, gloves, etc) which is good, as the adult yellow belts have been invited to join Thursday night sparring class!

It is so much fun! I’m allowed to kick, punch and generally whack other people as hard as I like and because I’m a yellow belt they are not meant to hit me too hard. Sounds like a fine idea.

I’m really enjoying it. I imagine when I get a decent knock one day I’ll feel a little different. One of the brown belts took a decent elbow strike to the head tonight and was looking a bit woozy and not too happy.

My daughter gave me a fairly hefty kick to my thigh and I thought Hmmm, this could get really painful in a few months. If nothing else it’s a fantastic cardio workout.

Changing roles?

I'm just home from taking my dad home from hospital - one week in a medical ward and then four weeks in a psychiatric ward. Ugh, what an arse that depression runs in families - so much to look forward to.

He seems a little happier. And it will be much nicer to visit him at home rather than the locked down psycho-geriatric ward. Some scary people in there!

It's really difficult trying to decide how much of your father's life you can take over. Is he really past looking after his finances, garden, house, etc? He doesn't know what he wants to do or not do and then he gets miserable about it all. He acts like a child and yet I feel tentative about offering too much advice.

It is going to be a very long year, I feel.

Spare Thyme?

What's a girl to do with an empty vegetable garden?

Weed it? Plant some winter veges?

How about sowing your own name in mustard seeds?

Very handy...

Dad goes to the dentist...

Still visiting my dad in hospital. Today is a field trip to his dentist, first time out the door for weeks! I imagine it will exhaust me...

I will report later.

Phoebe's Baptism

I’m a Godmother!

Phoebe is no longer ‘my first husband’s second wife’s child, or ‘my daughter’s half sister’ (ugh).

She is my Goddaughter! I am delighted that I have an ‘official’ status in this wee girl’s life.

I assiduously looked up Godparent duties when they asked me if I would be one of her Godmothers, (Anglicans are, apparently, allowed two godparents of the same sex and one of the other - Catholics only being allowed one of each) and found that I have little to do unless the parents neglect their duties.

Phoebe’s other Godmother is her Aunt Eileen and her Godfather is Dave, a good friend of Stephen and Jane’s.

She was baptised at home last Thursday. The Christening gown was Stephen’s twin sisters gown.

I am pathetic

I weighed myself this morning, it wasn't down as much as I wanted - for a variety of reasons (one pretty bloody obvious reason actually!). And so I ate chocolate. Like that is really going to help the cause. Duh, dumb, dumb, dumb...DUMB.

It's such an arse that I use food both as a reward for losing weight and as commiseration for not losing weight. Damned if I do damned if I don't.

Truly, I am pathetic.

Hot and Cross

Joy. Oh, Joy! My darling husband, who is a bit of a stickler for Catholic traditions, has always made it pretty clear that hot cross buns were only for Easter week itself. None during Lent as this is a penitential season and one shouldn’t indulge too much.

Hard work for me as I adore Hot Cross buns, the hotter and the crosser the better… dripping with butter and hot from the oven, little tangy bursts of dried fruit and peel, Nummy, nummy!

A few weeks ago I was mentioning how I didn’t like having to wait until Easter for them and I thought it would be a good idea to eat one a day, as they have a cross on them and that would remind you of all that it should. And he said that Lent hadn’t started yet, so why not eat them now? So for a week we ate hot cross buns – even chocolate ones. And then I stopped buying them Ash Wednesday.

A week goes by with me smelling them each time I visit the supermarket and at morning tea time when others bring out their hot cross buns. But, no, I am resigned to waiting – it’s possibly even good for me. And then, a wee miracle! Seán reads in our 2007 Lenten reflection book that (and I quote),

‘Baking hot cross buns on Good Friday is an old custom that has now extended to the whole season of Lent.
Hot cross buns often have raisins or dried fruit to give them some taste, but no sweet filling because Lent is a penitential season.
However, white icing is placed on top and always in the shape of a cross – as a reminder that Easter is coming’

Hurrah! Life as I knew it has changed! Hot cross buns were purchased that day and the next and the next. The kids love them in their school lunches. One amusing wee thing is that I am on a carb-free food thing for a couple of weeks and I am still hot cross bunless for another seven days. Then watch out! But not chocolate ones, I suppose?

I just want to lie down

The food thing is going OK, a few illicit mouthfuls yesterday, but generally good-oh. I think, sometimes, it’s luck of the draw as to whether your brain is in the right mode to watch your food intake. I’m trying not to notice it too much, not to think about it, just letting it happen.

I have (pretty much for the first time) asked for my husband’s help (including weighing me once a week – eek!). I usually avoid this as when the inevitable happens and you blow it, someone else is watching and judging (as if you aren’t hard enough on yourself!)

So it is a relaxed MFP (modified food plan, none of this diet nonsense - thank you). I’m eating a lot of the foods I chose to and gently ignoring the others as best as possible.

I have been feeling absolutely shattered, tired, worn out for the last few weeks/months. No idea why (although visiting Dad would have to be one of the most mind and body wearying experiences ever; finding the time, the park, the actual visit, the get-away, and then knowing you have to do it all over again.

I’m fit and healthy and I get enough sleep. But lots of other little things are creeping up on me. My back has been playing up, my right knee is twinging, my left Achilles is tender, and my shoulder is still weak from months ago. Is this old age or am I just falling apart? Whenever I am asked how I am, the answer is always, ‘tired’.

Anyway, I’ve decided to tackle a few more issues while the food thing is happening, so a new book from the library and I am doing back exercises with a vengeance for two weeks to see what will happen. I’m heading down town shortly to buy a new pair of running shoes and see if that helps the knee and Achilles.

The weariness - I’ve bought some multi-vitamins and I’m hoping that cutting out a lot of sugar may help. If not, in a week, or so, I’ll ask for some blood tests. I’ve been on thyroid pills for 10 years or so and maybe the dosage needs to be adjusted again.

I should be bouncing of the walls! I want to be bouncing of the wall.

Lunch @ 3

A healthy lunch or a quick blog?

Hey, I can do both.

Begin again

Well it’s twelve weeks all over again! The original intent of this blog was to give me somewhere to blather on about weight and fitness stuff in an effort to tone up for a beach holiday in lovely Noumea, New Caledonia. It worked a treat and I wore a bikini for the first time ever.

Since then I have been keeping fighting fit; running, walking, karate, back at the gym and so on…But my food habits have deteriorated: little treats have become regular fixtures, impulse thoughts have been realised all to quickly. Too much rubbish going in leaving little room or inclination to eat healthy food.

My weight is relatively stable, up and down a few kg now and then. But I really can’t help thinking that with all the exercise I do it should show up a little ‘less’ on the scales. I know I have muscles to die for, I know I have stamina aplenty; I’m even relatively toned (except for that damn baby producing stomach bit!).

And so, for the next few weeks (Lent seems a particularly good time to be mindful) I shall be mindful of my food. I’ll stop buying and eating crap and I will eat well. I’d rather tell you my age (44) than my weight (?) and so it will remain a mystery and I’ll let you know if it decreases.

Me and mine

This is me, my three siblings, my four children, four nephews and one niece. Very male. Visiting baby brother and child free dude is on the very right in the brown t-shirt.

Baby brothers

My brother is home for couple of weeks. He lives in Australia and I haven’t seen him for three years, when he came over for my wedding. We’ve just returned from a BBQ out at my sisters house this evening; a typical Dunedin BBQ, we started off outside on the deck and then retreated inside as the rain began.

My three siblings were there and for a change all nine of our children were there as well as our spouses/partners. So, we took the opportunity to take a few photos, as you never know when someone will die :-)

Nigel is my youngest brother (41) and he lives a happy-go-lucky life in Australia with his partner Janine. He intends to never have children, and it seems to work for him. His two nieces and five nephews think he is wonderful (so young looking and so many ‘toys’!) and my two older boys want to emulate his life ‘when they grow up’. They obviously are looking hard at my life and thinking that they would rather not duplicate it.

It was a funny get-together; my father wasn’t there, as he is still in hospital. We had a short discussion as to how to handle this stage of our dad’s life – with a few differences of opinion. Shortly afterwards my sister Deborah’s father-in-law left for home. He’s older than my dad, but more sprightly – I hope we didn’t scare him off with all the talk of rest homes, hospital, and the general degeneration of dad’s affairs.

Pix later, as I left the camera at work.

Chinny chin chin

That's four moany posts in a row, and so, I'll lift my chin a litttle higher and think of other things to talk about.

No time to breathe

I like a 'sit down' every now and then, and if I don't get one, each day, I get grumpy.

I need a lot of alone time.

I should have plenty of time alone as I don't work Tuesdays or Wednesdays. The house should be mine and mine alone.

But since Christmas it has been pretty full, day in and day out, with various varieties of children.

Time away at the bus conference was good, but I was sharing a room with my boss, so the only alone time was when I was swimming, running, or at the gym...no 'sit down'.

My dad is in hospital at the moment, as well, and so, guilt ridden as I am about most things, I feel that I have to visit every day - sometimes twice a day - and do stupid little chores like; checking his phone, mail, buying the odd piece of fruit, etc.

I have a stack of books beside my bed and I seem to have no time to read them.

I have no time to do this stupid blog.

I feel like I have no time to breathe.

I want a 'sit down' and yet I know if I get the time I won't use it wisely.

(So (S) please don't offer me one, because it's not yours to offer!)

Get over it

There is nothing in the rule book that says you have to be a miserable old sod when you are ill, is there?

I'm sure that ill people are allowed to be cheerful - pain relief allowing it even?

No one is going to kick you out of hospital because you crack a smile are they?

And I am really, really, really, really, bloody sick of hearing about my father bowels and whether or not his 'visit' to the toilet was successful.

DOES HE THINK I"M A NURSE?

DOES HE THINK I GIVE A SHIT? - Which, apparently, he doesn't-just in case you wondered.

Split shifts suck

I work a pitiful amount of hours a week. But, no matter how little I do, I detest Friday because it just goes on, and on, and on, forever. Oddly enough, Friday mornings are the best bit of my working week. But it goes shitey after that because I finish at 1pm and then I have to start again at 5.30pm.

So, I get home in time to grab some lunch, go pick up the school kids, chat a little, Blog a little, and then it’s time to go back to work. It’s the same number of hours as a ‘real’ day and yet I’m at the library or on the bus from 8.30am - 8.15 pm. What a drag.

Pix is from a previous night stop I used to do, not the one I do tonight, but you get the idea. It’s night, there’s a bus, some people, and lots of books…it’s got to be good, huh?

Hospital visits are so dull

My dad is in hospital. Pancreatitus and gall stones. He's been miserable for months (not with this, just general oldness and misery) and it's actually a bit of a relief to have him somewhere where people are paid to fuss, feed, and tend to him and I can just visit.

He had an 'assisted shower' yesterday, probably the most fun he has had for years :-)
"Oh, yes, just a little lower, Oh yessss!" Ugh.

Yesterday I:
Visited dad (1am)
Visited dad (7am)
Worked
Morning coffee with sister
Worked
Lunched with sister and niece
Visited dad (2pm)
More coffee
Picked up daughter from dentist
Picked up son from school
Blogged :-)
Went to dad's house to cancel cleaner, gardener, meals on wheels, craft group, newspaper, etc...
Rang relatives to update them
Dropped daughter at her dad's- to play with Phoebe :-)
Karate
Picked up daughter from her dad's- I played with Phoebe
Shower
Chat, chat, chat
Bed.

I forgot about tea somehow and figured dad in hospital cost me about $30 bucks today in coffees, lunches and parking fees that I wouldn't normally have had. Am I a scrooge to think such thoughts? I imagine my pitiful work day didn't even cover it.

Dad a couple of months ago and slightly more cheerful.