Butterflies dropping down out of the sky, an incredulous expression on their hard-to-read faces.


You may remember that when I was pregnant, I developed a little code phrase to talk about the possibility of the cessation of my puke river. Yes, ‘playing the game’ or ‘quiz show.’ One day of not puking was a win, any subsequent days were playing as a defending champion.

We’ve had the situation this week – except no puking. Perhaps we call it, oh, I don’t know – butterfly spotting?

I woke up Monday morning and that was my first day of butterfly spotting. IE, a day with minimal pain, perhaps the sort of pain a creaky person might get on a bad day, but nothing soul destroying. This spurt of butterfly goodness continued on Tuesday and Wednesday. By this time, I thought it had perhaps genuinely lessened (as it is wont to do, with no rhyme or reason) and this was not dependent on the medicine. However, I religiously took the medication because who wants to be the asshole who jinxes it all and calls the pain fire down from the sky?

So yesterday was pretty good as well.I actually woke up and DID NOT THINK ABOUT OR NOTICE PAIN for at least ten minutes after waking up. This is fucking miraculous.

TMD got home and took Coco for a little walk in the sling while Snort was passed out in a bouncy chair. In heaven, I put my feet up on the couch and leaned back against the pile of pillows on the end, with my knees bent. Out of nowhere, pain exploded back in my pal, the back joint. And this morning it persists, and my friend Crotchie is involved, too. The medication isn’t doing anything, so perhaps I was right all along.

I am going going going to stay hopeful, but it is hard after a few days of such minimal pain and almost normal life (within our lounge, at least!) to have all the pain come crashing back in. I have been getting cramps as well, so think this is the pain revving up for Periodville. What a fucking joke that it only gave me three days of good feelings between periods this time, hey?

We had plans to go shopping for big ass plastic dropcloths tomorrow….hoping that can still happen. If I use crutches and and she pushes them in our new (to us) pushchair?? (LET US PAUSE AND GIVE A SHOUT OUT TO THE NIPPER 360 DOUBLE!!!)

And in other news, today is my grandfather’s funeral. There has been some weirdo subtext of my father going on – as usual – but feel too bored about it to fill you in. Sorry. It all stems from my sister’s pathological urge for us to all get along and be best friends. Bless her, she’s trying to get him to Do The Right Thing, but it’s not going to happen. I wish he would stop pretending he’s going to make an effort.

Anyway, him and the rest of that side of the family will be getting together for the first time in years today. Should be interesting. I don’t know my dad’s side of the family, really. Except his brother married my mom’s sister (I KNOW), so I am quite close to that aunt and uncle. They both think my dad’s fucking crazy, too.

Ah, family.

Anyway. I don’t think I’ll be doing any butterfly spotting this morning, but perhaps this afternoon? Or tomorrow morning?

Aussie should be coming over today. I hope she is suitably impressed by Snort’s version of crawling (!!!!! grown up boy !!!!) and Coconut’s manic waving.

What else should I tell you about? I keep having outdoor smells remind me of camp, so perhaps some non-depressing stories about that soon.


My friend OGS has written 2 three part stories about our life together in university. He has let me put it on my old blog, so perhaps he’ll let me zoom it up here? Is that entertaining?

Also. Shout outs to my bedresty preggers pal PottyMouthMommy. And to my invisible friend Boo, who does not blog and yet I feel a connection because we were pregnant at the same time and our kids are roughly the same age. You two should TOTALLY become my facebook friends.

I can’t.



Bye now.


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One Response to “Butterflies dropping down out of the sky, an incredulous expression on their hard-to-read faces.”

  1. boo Says:

    would love to find you on fb! i feel invisible friend pretty much sums it up at the mo – living with chronic pain does make you feel invisible because all any one else sees is the stick, or the crutches, or the horribly swollen red ankles. sigh.
    still, like the SPD, its gotta get better, right? because for both of us, motherhood (whilst lovely, full of life affirming joy and all the rest) has not been the happy camper poster moment that we were promised. all i can say is thank god for codeine, chocolate and being able to sleep. it’s a simple wish list but a potent one.
    so i hope that the bastard pain clears up soon, or just lets up enough so that you can enjoy the summer a bit more. would cross my fingers but the tendons in my hand are giving up now too. there’s got to be a joke in there somewhere. xxx

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