hissychick » my charming husband

And so that was Christmas but we’ve only just begun..

hissychick — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 02:46:08 +0000

Those of you that endure my status updates on Farcebook will already know that Christmas 2009 chez hissychick was not quite the festive and relaxed affair that I had hoped for.

Instead, the husband decided to get out of Christmas lunch with the inlaws and opening/assembling any further craptastic plastic toys by developing pancreatitis and, rather scarily, drivibg himself to the hospital at 7am. Leaving a certain heavily pregnant wife to deal with Santa present opening, car packing, getting the troops ready and doing the hour long drive to my parents’ place solo. No mean feat.

I do not apologise for the fact that my children had chocolate and lollies for breakfast, nor for the fact that getting out of the house necessitated a lot of screaming and some tears on my part.

Anyway.

Long story short, mr hissychick’s gallbladder was found to be the cause of the pancreatitis (much, much less scary than the other possible causes), the kids survived and enjoyed Christmas Day blah blah blah fishpaste.

The husband was discharged yesterday morning after a three night stay….and his gallbladder removal surgery scheduled for next Tuesday. The day before my due date.

Fast forward to today. I woke at 5:50 am this morning after another totally relaxing late pregnancy night’s sleep (think waking three times between 10 pm and 12 am to go to the toilet, 1 am with night sweats, and everytime I needed to pee or roll over thereafter) and I felt….like I had dropped my bundle.

After a shower and managiing to nick my pink bits when I stupidly decided to give the ladygarden a tidy up sight unseen I sat on the edge of my bed and cried with exhaustion and frustration. Perhaps it’s was the last of the adrenaline of the last few days leaving my body…but I don’t think it’s that.

Yes people, I’ve reached that point where abject fear of childbirth is outweighed by the desire to feel semi human again.

And it seems Bertramina is sympathetic to my cause. OB checkup this morning revealed she is well engaged and good to go, with the lovely and calm Dr J reassuring me all was well and that he would be seeing me before the husband’s little surgical jaunt.

My feeling is soon, very soon.

So on that note I am off to eat fresh pineapple and watch as many episodes of Mad Men as I can.

Until next time….smooches. Scared smooches.

And you wonder why I spend so much of my non existent me time in the foetal position.

hissychick — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 09:37:50 +0000

So the girls found one of the husband’s band’s CDs from about 15 years ago. E’s reaction to the picture of her Dad on the back cover, resplendent in leather jacket, long hair tied back and shot glass in front of him? “I want that …Daddy not mines!“. A’s reaction to the music? “I like the naughty words music. That man said suck my…thumb didn’t he Mummy? Rock and roll!“.

Hold me for I am afraid.

Crotch vomit

hissychick — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 05:03:00 +0000

Mr hissychick has a new and charming nickname for me, and it is the title of this post. Add this new moniker to the facial hair that he is sporting in support of Movember and he has just guaranteed that he will not get any action for quite some time yet.

I’ve worn several episodes of regurgitated stomach contents in my nether regions (as well as in my hair, on my back, and as have the walls and carpet) since Saturday, when miss E suddenly succumbed to a nasty spew and rash virus that saw us spend several hours in hospital yesterday under observation.

And to think I’ve always pooh poohed old superstitions like bad luck happening in threes.