The Gnome at the Bottom of the Garden

Some people will go to any lengths to get out of going to work. I went to work Friday night, still valiantly trying to cough up that lung that is giving me so much bother. Came home Saturday morning, and the husband has decided to take the kids out for the day to give me a chance to sleep. Good plan, except that I couldn’t sleep. As the day progressed, it was even getting hard to cough and by late afternoon, I’d had enough. So, I trotted up to the hospital to see if I could maybe get to suck on some Ventolin for a while.  They got all excited and started shoving monitors and things on me and three people listening to my chest all at once. Then the doctor turns up and starts talking to nurses in a hushed voice. And then they wouldn’t let me go home.

Then a nurse turns up with my new best friend. Prednisolone. Lots of Prendnisolone. The doctor comes in and goes on about lungs that have closed up, and needing to be monitored, and there will be definitely no going to work tonight. So I get shifted to the room closest to the nurses station and get plugged into the oxygen and the monitors and lie there trying to not act like a patient, because dammit, I AM NOT SICK. It’s just a bit of a cough. Then the Prednisolone started to kick in. I could breathe (sort of) and then I realised just how hard I had been working just to provide my body with oxygen. I suddenly felt very tired.

Then I remembered that my family is probably home by now and have no idea where I am. So I make some phone calls. Pajamas were brought in and kids (still stinky form a day of hiking through scrub) gave me worried looks.

Next morning, I felt the best I had done in over a week. Doctor still wasn’t impressed and wanted me to stay for the rest of the day. More Prednisolone was brought in and I was allowed out of bed encouraged to walk around. So I spent the day watching crap tv and playing Sudoku on my phone. Finally, they let me go home just in time to cook tea.

So even though I was at my workplace, not a lot of work was done (by me at least). So, how was your weekend?

Life was a bit hard this morning. I have been up most of the night trying to cough up a lung without success, so I wasn’t functioning all that well. C6 was also pretty distracted this morning and seemed to think that “Hurry up and eat your breakfast” sounded a lot like “Go and play with your Batman toy” and that “Go and get dressed” sounded a lot like “Time to play with your racing cars”. I tried to help by packing his bag, and then we had this conversation:

Me: C6, where is your water bottle?
C6: What water bottle?
Me: The water bottle you take to school.
C6: Dunno.
Me: Did you leave it at school?
C6: Leave what at school?
Me: YOUR WATER BOTTLE!
C6: I told you, I don’t know where my water bottle is!
(I just happen to look down)
Me: What’s that by your feet?
C6: What feet?
Me: YOUR FEET!! THE ONES AT THE END OF YOUR LEGS!!!
C6: I don’t see anything
(Grabs childs head and points it in the direction of waterbottle)
C6: Hey! It’s my water bottle! Did you put that there?
Me: JUST GET DRESSED, OKAY!!!

No wonder so many mothers have nervous breakdowns. Pass the valium, would you. I’m going to have a good lie down.

For lunch tomorrow they are getting one of my favourite dishes, Mustard Chilli Chicken. I’ve banned myself from eating it for a while because it’s deliciously naughty seriously full of calories. The shearers, on the other hand, will burn this off pretty quickly.

 There isn’t a recipe as such -  just a set of instructions. I precook 1 chicken breast per person, then let then cool. Into a frypan, put a blob of Thai Sweet Chilli Sauce, a blob of Wholegrain Mustard and enough cream to make it into a sauce. Rip the cooked chicken breasts into bite sized bits and cook them into the sauce until everything is hot. Serve with a green salad using the sauce as a dressing.

Ahhh, Minicolts. The best entertainment of the day. At halftime in the A Grade game, the Under 10’s take to the field. Whoever turns up gets divvied into 2 equal teams - one Blue (Eagles - our old club colours) and the other Black (Tigers - our new club colours). For the little kids (5 & 6 year olds), about the only way for them to get a kick is to be given a free kick by the umpire - otherwise the 9 and 10 year olds just dominate the ball.  

C6 got a freekick in his last game. And in the spirit of recording everything, I took this photo.

It wasn’t until I was editing the photo that I discovered this:

So now, recorded for all prosterity, is the secret to a good kick. You have to hold your tongue just right…..