Tuesday, June 19, 2007

a morning at the mall. I hate malls, but it had to be done. first, to pick up my new fake breast for swimming - the old one had got a bit lumpy and worn-out. the shop assistant couldn't find my order. so she asked what brand it was. I didn't know. I managed to find the words "swim form" - I mean, what do you call these things in public? she finally twigged, and brought it back to the counter, in full view of several other customers, in a clear plastic bag. great.

that embarrassing experience over with, I took A to the very unsatisfactory Myer toy department (this is at Northland, for Melbourne types). it's basically arranged by gender and cartoon character. for girls, Bratz dolls with "shimmer powder for YOU" (ie makeup for three year olds), and for boys, things with guns. but A, bless him, after inspecting all the action, fighting, motorbike riding Spiderman merchandise, chose the soft cuddly Spidey that says things like "you're my favourite pal" and "sweet dreams, buddy." He's not actually getting to take the toy out of the box until the weekend, when we enter dummy (binky for the Yanks) cold turkey hell. it has to happen sometime. his teeth are being visibly diverted by the dummy, and soon his second teeth will start to form. but it won't be pretty. hence the bribe (also some chocolate frogs - don't tell the dentist!)

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Jeanne the Assertive Cancer Patient has proposed a health and happiness simultaneous post.

without reading the other post(s), a couple of thoughts: that while you can have each without the other, an awareness of having health, even provisionally, can certainly contribute to happiness. I recently finished a short story about a woman who'd been trapped in a mineshaft for several days with the line "I am alive", and I know that that line came directly from my own experience. I whinge a lot on this blog, but to me that's about the search for a perfect life - I guess I'm a glass-half-full kind of person - and it in no way reduces the soaring feeling I have, on the rare occasions I let myself believe I've got away with it, that I am unbelievably blessed.

I suppose it's like the cliche of having an attitude of gratitute. and reading that Jeanne is awaiting an MRI result reminded me of that.

health can mean vigor and fitness, or it can mean simply surviving. for a while there I simply survived, with the ongoing surgical reconstruction aftermath. now, in contrast, I am regaining vigor - and that, certainly, makes me happy.

and for my little boy, I'll trade off all the wealth in the world against his health and happiness.


tres exciteeen (say it aloud; it's supposed to sound French) - I have finally noticed the image upload facility. how long has that been there?

enough cancer posts. this is about my baby.

yesterday, he did his first figurative drawing. sure, the monster in question had sixteen eyes and eighteen (dix-huit, he made me count them in French, it's our new thing) legs. and very strange hair.

but the legs were under the mouth, the eyes stuck out to the side and the eyes were on top. I was absurdly proud of him. I will keep that drawing forever (annotated so I can understand what it is).

and then today when I dropped him off at kindy, there was an invitation to a "pirate" party in his information pocket, from a kid I've never heard of. in other words, he is making independent friends, ones who particularly want him to come to their pirate party. I called the mum, who confessed she hadn't heard of my kid either, so we're going to a Sunday morning party (this is not the place to carp about kids' activities getting in the way of adults' and besides we had nothing on that day and I can do my bike ride on the Saturday).

now let's hope he can keep making nice friends for the rest of his life. last night I had a dinner out with two mothers' group friends and one old friend. after a taxi nightmare (when the SECOND one we'd called turned up, 50 minutes after we'd called the first one, and said it was his second day on the job and no, he didn't know where South Melbourne was, I actually started to see the funny side and gently, if sarcastically, navigated the way to the restaurant), anyway, after all that it was brilliant tempura with nice champagne in a sushi-bar style setting, good chat, a little drunkenness, jokes; I want him to have friends like that.

ps: the pirate outfit? will I hand-stitch a wooden leg and parrot for him? I will not. he will wear his Captain Feathersword pyjamas. and maybe a feather duster for a sword.

Friday, June 08, 2007

quick post (kid at knee). victorian lrc surrogacy report finally tabled. after how many years? media focus of course on gay IVF. surrogacy recommendations (I haven't had time to read it yet) are allow it: BUT the surrogate has automatic right to keep the child. wtf? even if it's not her biological kid? and what about the (biological) father.

all this - and I don't have the headspace to analyse it - in some patriarchal way puts too much weight on the role of the female body as a producer of babies. some sort of special pleading. also known as bullshit.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

shout-out to the assertive patient for even mentioning post-mastectomy sex.

yes, it's driving me crazy. dh is still utterly clueless. frankly, I don't need him to see and adore my scar. I am happy to keep having sex wearing singlet tops and slips. no problem. but there is an underlying level of unsexiness in my body image that means I need some serious reassurance - and I used to be so confident, so un-neurotic about my body, so sure I was a sexy creature - and he ain't providing it. just isn't.


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