Someone suggested to me recently that I keep the blog going even when I’m at home. “Why on Earth would I do that???” I asked sceptically “My life is bat-shit boring.”
I’ve now been home from America for 4 days and I was about to do one of my super long FB-status updates which are really just blog posts masquerading as a status update (oblivious to the customary word count restrictions on ‘updates’).
Since I’ve been home I’ve spent 24 hours STRAIGHT sleeping, napping, slept a bit more and stared at all the washing/unpacking/cleaning/organising I have to do.
As is usual, whenever I am faced with a task that I don’t want to do, I distract myself by creating an even bigger task so that the unappealing task gets shuffled down the line of priorities.
Mount Washmore is larger than she has ever been before and the house looks like a bomb has exploded in it. There are suitcases everywhere and piles of stuff Ben ever so thoughtfully placed around the house for me to sort through when he was ‘tidying up’. It’s so bad that I can’t even get a cleaner in. I need that Japanese minimalist lady on netflix that makes you say goodbye to all your stuff and then toss it out.
Any who. As dealing with the fallout caused by our return from USA is unappealing, I wisely decided that instead I should focus my energy on something else. Cooking. 30 meals to be exact. Ben is always delighted when I commit to cooking and freezing meals (he loves it because it saves money and food wastage – two of his pet hates) and will happily clean up my mess after I have destroyed the kitchen using every pot and pan that we own. So when I haven’t been napping I’ve been cooking. I’m up to about meal 17 and would have finished tonight had it not been for one little incident, which was supposed to be the primary focus of my super long FB post.
Rohan, for his birthday, got money off various people and it has been burning a hole in his pocket ever since. He has gone from wanting a hover board to an electric scooter, a brownish red silkie chicken, a go pro and basically anything else he can think of. He wants to spend his birthday money yesterday and is miffed that he still has money from his bottle collecting and phone case sales, that Ben has quarantined until he thinks of something sensible to use it on (or more likely – save it for his future).
As soon as Ben went to work today Rohan started pestering me about going shopping with his money and all the things he might ‘look’ at. He had no real plan, he just wanted it spent. Can’t say I blame him. I feel exactly the same way every time I come in to money.
In order to distract him, I said that if he could save his money for 3 weeks, then I would match his savings and perhaps he could buy a drum kit. I thought this might appeal to the heavy metal loving part of him and give me 3 weeks of respite from shopping requests.
This idea was met with SO much enthusiasm that he began to research Drums and drum lessons almost immediately and before I had even finished my suggestion, we had booked to go talk to a bloke about lessons.
We spoke to the bloke, Rohan bashed the Hell out of his drums and he is now signed up for two lessons a week. It may well have been cheaper to take him shopping.
After his first drum lesson I took him to footy. Footy finished and as Rohan hopped in the car he said to me, “I think I hurt my pinkie finger. Feels worse than a bruise.” In Rohan speak, that means serious injury. His pain threshold is high, very high. The only time he lost his shit after being injured was when he thought brains were coming out of his head.
So off we went to the hospital. The Dr immediately suspected I was one of ‘those’ over reactive mums as Rohan was as calm as a cucumber and happily bent his finger this way and that way as requested replying that it ‘just hurts a bit’. Doctor said he thinks it’s fine but since I had dragged him to hospital and we live in a country where these things are free, we might as well have an X-ray.
After the x-ray the astonished Doctor came to see me. “He’s broken it.” He said incredulously. “Right near his growth plate. No more footy till you get the green light from the fracture clinic.”
I was not surprised at all but a bit disappointed that Rohan wouldn’t be able to play footy for a few weeks. How will he get rid of the abundance of energy he wakes with every morning.
Also, just like that Rohan had broken a 46 year drought of Ben, myself and our offspring NEVER having a broken bone. I was beginning to think that we were superhuman – especially with the mischief Rohan gets up to!
Thankfully the drum teacher said he can still drum using just 3 fingers on his left hand. The doctor had said no to drumming but I’m overlooking this and going with the opinion of the drum teacher. If he has noting to focus on I may have be forced to abandon ship till he can expunge his energy again via physical and musical pursuits.
So today wasn’t totally bat-shit boring. Poor Rohan. To his credit he kept training and never said a word or shed a tear. Tough as nails that kid. Absolute total opposite of me.
Thanks for reading!!