Posts Tagged ‘life’

Chicken pox is my beer.

May 20, 2013

Yes, you read that right. Chicken pox is my beer. It makes me lose my inhibitions and live an awesome life.

We are naked in the front garden, running around in wild circles, waving at neighbours, making a nest for our Angry Birds. We are dancing unabashedly to the Moto Moto song, singing along that we like them big and chunky.

We are running up to the bath, empty two litre bottles (from my new sparkling water addiction, as I have not had Diet Coke in months now. Sob.) in hand, and that bathroom echoes laughter and science and splashes. Pouring into big bottles, hitting them on the sides to make water erupt upwards, working together to hang out, music pumping in the air.

We are on a pirate ship, Snort’s new-to-him bed, looking at maps and searching for treasure. We are wearing our pajamas to the drive thru, just to get out of the house and get a treat.

It’s silly, really. There is no reason every day cannot be like four days of holiday time. We have no school, no work, and no obligations that can’t be skipped. But for me, I think the chicken pox gives me a permission slip to just live like we want, with none of my guilt attached. It is a glorious reminder of all that unschooling/autonomous education/life can be, if only I relax and just let go now and then. When we follow the sun, when our days stretch before us with nowhere to go but here, we find new and exhilarating ways to fill the time.

We cut straws and stick the pieces in playdoh to make Angry Birds. We read books and nap in the afternoon to the soundtrack of Phineas and Ferb. We sit in the garden and look at ants, we call people up just to say hello, we trace out the spots on his body¬† like he’s a dalmatian or the night sky, covered in a thousand stars.

This first round of chicken pox brought joy and peace to my life.

You’d never know he was ill. Snort was his normal self, just covered in spots. Two nights were hell on earth, but the rest of the time was a welcome break from what has increasingly become an overflowing schedule. Now we are in limbo, waiting for the second outbreak of The Pox to hit our house. I don’t think it will be as relaxed or illness-free, somehow, mainly because Coconut is a very itchy child in general.

But I will not forget the lessons I’ve relearned from this first bout.

This week will be a reminder that we don’t HAVE to do anything. We CHOOSE to do things.

I’ve felt so overwhelmed by the amount of invitations to various playdates lately that I’ve literally stopped responding to texts and messages. I will get back to them all, but never did I imagine a life where we would have more social commitments than all those ‘socialised’ school children. ūüėČ My friends remind me I am a part of this family, of this journey, and if it is too much for me, then I deserve a say. I am grateful for all the people we know, all the choices of activities we have. I never thought it would happen like this, so quickly, and I am delighted and surprised by it.

But I am also grateful for last week, for that one hiatus where no one expected to see us, where we had nothing but time and everything to do with it.

32 candles… one to grow on.

September 5, 2010

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to meeeeeeeeee, happy birthday to me.       

Today I’m 32, which we only know for sure because a prescription bottle last week said I was 31. Am I really so old I don’t know how old I am?¬†

Birthdays also seem to have much less significance for the adults in the house, now that there are children. I think it is official: we’re growing up.


August 31, 2010

My mom is arriving on Thursday and staying for a bit more than a week, so not sure how much updating there will be. I have a lot I want to write about, but I find the babies are needing/wanting more and more attention, so internet time is limited!

So much is going on. So much needs to be done.

Renewing my Country A passport, figuring out Snort’s many allergies and the return of worsening eczema, getting a Country B driving license (a whole post is needed for this one!), weaning off bottles, trying to not shriek every time I move (SPD bad today…I carried Snort up STAIRS yesterday. Ow.), find time to write, continue weight loss (a whole ‘nother post, with pics), achieve world domination, etc.

Yesterday morning we went to someone’s house, locally, with a bunch of bags and babies. This couple basically entertained our kids while we had the run of literally thousands of books, all for free. We got a nice haul, but WOW was this house fantastic. It was so huge, huge even by Country A standards. We also found out how much it was on the market for, and how much it sold for. In a curiously weird way it gave me hope, because it was not a million. The price was still unreachable and inconceivable for us, but maybe not for always. Just for right now.

It’s hard surviving on one salary. Every time someone gifts us with baby clothing or supplies in any way, it relieves a little of the pressure. Formula and diapers are still the main expenses, and holy jesus are they expensive!!

We’re doing okay, though, and even though we are poor by the standards of both our families (though of course how lucky we are to have a mortgage and a lovely flat, food to eat, heating to put on) this is what we choose. Snort and Coconut grow more every day, but they are still too little to even think about shipping off to daycare (for us, I judge other families not!). This is it, again for now: they will always be looked after in their own home by their own parents.

I do need to drive, though, so that we can take field trips and do stuff. And so that I can take them to their various appointments and TMD doesn’t have to keep juggling this with work – because from April? She may not have a job. I choose to stick my head in the sand about that, because we want to be able to continue to have one of us home with the babies – and she earns much more than I ever did.

Still, though. On this sunny morning it all seems okay.

Ten ‘technological’ facts.

July 28, 2010

10. I had a pager in the early 1990s. It was teal and AWESOME. My babies get their gangsta from me.

9. I only wear Baby G watches – preferably with plastic straps. TMD buys me one like every six years and I wear it until it is a faded brown poop colour, no matter what colour it started out as. (I need a new one, incidentally.)

8. Right now my first ever mobile phone contract is so overdue for renewal and I am panic attacking over which free phone to get. I don’t want any of them because they are crap.

7. I love reading reviews of technological things (or anything, I suppose). But it is a thankless job when every review of every phone I am eligible for says that phone is crap.

6. My sister is getting an iPhone 4 ’cause she is more gangsta than me, and mailing me her 3GS ’cause I am more poor than her. *DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS, SISTER.* Once I have this new-to-me awesome phone, I give TMD the new piece of crap I am entitled to….’cause we are poor, remember? Don’t feel too sorry for TMD (unless you want to donate us a phone!) because even a new piece of crap is lightyears ahead of our old pieces of crap. It’s all relative.

5. I married someone who is somewhat of a technophobe, and possibly wouldn’t use the internet for anything other than her email if Farmville did not exist. I’m only slightly exaggerating.

4. My uncle worked for a certain top brand of PC for years and years and we had a computer when I was in third grade. That is long before computers were in the home, dawg. PC Junior in the hizzouse! Bouncing Babies! King’s Quest! (I used old school reams of computer-paper-with-feeder-holes-on-the-side to create mastercharts of where the wolves, witches house, and tree stumps were.)

3. We did not get cable till I was in fourth grade, which was long after everyone else had it.

2. I never listened to the radio till I was in sixth grade (possibly explaining at least part of the reason I had few friends?). I also never had a Whopper till I was in tenth grade. No, we weren’t Amish.

1. Me and my sista were ACE at blowing on old Nintendo games to make them work. Quick blow left, quick blow right, three fast puffs in the middle!! (Best game ever that also makes no sense? Mysterious Mansion! Though I also holla for Bubble Bobble!)

WTF is wrong with me? Seriously. No, really.

July 12, 2010

Oh, thank you all so much for the excellent suggestions and support regarding my little sleeping problem. I’m going to tell you about last night in the hopes that I get some support today, because honestly? Not sure how I will get through the day.

So you know Saturday we went into town. I walked farther than I have since I was, oh, probably about 18 weeks pregnant. I walked and walked. We were super tired when we got in, I admit to going to bed early, and then woke up at 1:30 Sunday morning and never got back to sleep.

Then last night happened. Again, we went for a walk (through Toys R Us, but a walk is a walk , damnit!) that was much longer than I am used to. We got home and I was happy – physical exercise, I stayed up till much later, etc.

I stopped being happy around 1:30 am, when I stumbled into the lounge to cry to TMD about the fact that I had not yet been asleep. Yes, 24 hours of Awake! had happened.

An hour later I was whisper-yelling at her, lying in the doorway of our room on the floor, trying desperately to get some of the breeze from the fan. I also tried in front of the patio door, sitting up face against our wardrobe, etc etc. I was a fucking maniac. I don’t know how many of you know, but I did have a problem with self-harming for a short while when I was much younger – and I tell you, I was thinking about it last night.

I was SO BEYOND TIRED that I could not think straight. I had periods of rage, of sobbing hopelessly, of just lying there.

We finally put me back in our room, door shut, windows wide open.

I figure I got about, oh, an hour of sleep – if that – before the babies both woke up. I selfishly (?) stayed in bed, and possibly got another half hour or hour of sleep after that.

TMD is working late tonight.

So let’s recap: I’ve had 1.5 hours of sleep in like 36 hours. I don’t know how I can cope on that. It’s not like when they were newborns. We get to no sleep back then, but somehow as soon as it was daytime my body and brain kicked me into gear. I seem to have outgrown that coping mechanism of new mothers, because honey, Mama tired.

I’ve just erected the HUGE pop up tent in our lounge and thrown a bunch of toys in it. I think this may be my playpen for feral children. When it stops working, I will take the tent down and put up the pop up tunnel. I hope and pray I don’t fall asleep today, because Snort keeps trying to pull plugs out of the wall (the reason the tent is up, to distract him from the plugs as I’m so sore from the weekend of walking and no sleep that I am moving all stiffly like a robot and it’s hard to pull him out from under the table where the best plugs are*) and I’m worried I could fall asleep so deeply that they could get hurt.

Then again, y’know, why am I worried? I apparently don’t sleep anymore. Good thing the sky is overcast, because I clearly belong to the legion of the undead. If it were sunny, I would risk outing myself by my shining diamond skin or my skin bursting into flames, depending on which vampire ‘lore’ camp you fall into.

*I’m so tired run on sentences are my friend. **

**And apparently I put footnotes  the body of the entry, rather than at the end of it. I am a grammar nazi, so this indicates some level of my level of tired.

So. Perversely, tips on staying awake? I’d like to end this entry with a laugh, but I don’t think I can.

My babies sleep fine, I’m the one with the problem!

July 11, 2010

Out of fairness to my children, the sleeping problems in the house are all mine. Both kids wake up once in the night for a feed. For the past week, this has been a tandem feed around 1 am. Tandem feeds require both moms, because the aim is to keep them as quiet and calm as possible and that can be hard with two babies sometimes.

But they generally eat and then go back to sleep straightaway – this week has been a bit of a bitch, but I don’t know how coloured that is by my little issue. Namely, I cannot fall back asleep once I have woken up.

Last night for example – a textbook, lovely night. Both woke up to eat around 1:30 am. I fed Coconut – total time for waking up, making bottle, eating, and falling back asleep was probably less than 15 minutes. I put her down in her cot, left Snort with TMD, and headed (fearfully? reluctantly?) to the bedroom.

My ass didn’t sleep until I heard birds outside and the sky was lightening. I figure I got about 30-40 minutes of sleep, and that’s probably being generous. So while the babies are the reason I did get up in the first place, they certainly aren’t the reason I stayed up. This has happened every single night this week, this bizarre baby-induced insomnia.

It turns into a vicious cycle because I then am literally falling asleep at 7:30 pm for the evening (once at 4:00 pm this week!) because I cannot keep my eyes open. So I guess by the time I wake up around 1ish, I’ve had a good deal of sleep – at least for a twin mama.

Two nights ago I used burning amounts of Tiger Balm (good shit, good shit, good shit) on my forehead – the burning sensation totally made me focus on that (slightly worried I was burning my skin off and would be left looking like a smiling and unsleeping skull) rather than my headache. This everlasting gobstopper of a headache probably is related to the fact that I am starting my days at like 1:15 every morning. Who wouldn’t be tired and headachey by the next afternoon?

So, what do I do? My usual trick of having Friends on quietly in the background while I fall asleep isn’t working – I find myself lying awake and listening to every episode on a disc (all 6 of them, on repeat) all night long. Reading doesn’t help; my thrilling cave woman books don’t make me sleepy, but nor do they particularly rouse me to new heights of wakefulness. The Tiger Balm has scented our whole bedroom till it smells like we are on an authentic filmset for an exotic smell-o-vision movie of the far east.

How do I get back to sleep? My plan for today is to treat this shit as jetlag – force myself to stay awake today, force myself to do more than just lay or sit in a stupor today, and then maybe I’ll be tired when I get to sleep. Tired enough to go back to sleep after the middle of the night feed. Of course, if I still don’t sleep, I will curse myself all the hours I missed out by pretending this was jetlag rather than…than…lifelag.

Any suggestions? TMD said I shouldn’t stay in bed, but I’m at a loss of what else I can do. She is now sleeping on the couch (in an effort to let me sleep unmolested by babies and things), so the only rooms in the house with no babies are my bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Though the kitchen is tiny and connected to the lounge where TMD is sleeping.

So it’s like – sit on the toilet and read? Set up a tent in the backyard and hope the physical exertion and challenge of tent erecting in the dark tire me out? Or….stay in my room and read cave people books, pretending that the Tiger Balm is some sort of rendered mammoth fat I have invented in my role as Head Magical Cave Woman?

Help, please. Anyone else get this happening to them?

Musical beds.

July 5, 2010

So. Let’s take it back to that evening of The Fever Of No Known Origin. Snort was incredibly listless and dopey. Coconut was pretty much normal, aside from some fierce sneezes.

We’ve been wrestling with him all day and evening to take medicine. And as far as fluids go? A nurse suggested giving him ice lollies as a ‘great’ way to get fluids in. Coconut and Snort have never had anything resembling sweets before, but we gamely bought some. As they were hanging out in our paddling pool (Snort shivering in a scary sort of way), we offered the ice lollies. No go. These kids would prefer asparagus to ice cream.

So by the time we want to go to bed? We are hot, tired, and worried. The trip to the doctor’s yielded no answers, but we know we’re on high alert for any further rises in his temp.

TMD decides to play nurse for the evening – meaning she’s on ‘Snort duty’ to offer water, milk, cuddles, temperature checks, medicine, etc. I say she and Snort can have the bed, Coconut will sleep in her own bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.

Phase one: complete. One happy baby girl cuddling her blankets (she has a thang for knitted goods), sleeping soundly in her crib. I’m out here shutting down the computer, when TMD (already looking like a zombie) brings Snort out and asks if they can just be out in the lounge tonight as ‘she knows the territory better.’

Phase two: Somehow I am not taking care of any babies and I have the whole bed to myself. The house is quiet. This lasts until 5 minutes to midnight.

Phase three: I hear a squeak from Coco. I peek in at her, she’s fine. I peek in at TMD and Snort, they are fine.

Phrase four, about 5 minutes after phase three: Snort begins to scream. All out scream. Unconsolably scream. Now, let me get it out there and say neither baby has ever been a screamer. All they need if they are upset is to be picked up and given a ten second cuddle and they are happy and laughing again. They also have no problems with sleep – probably as we never try to put a very awake baby to sleep, but this is the subject for another post.

So this unearthly screaming from Snort is…uh, unearthly. It’s not a pain scream, like we will get sometimes from teething. It is all out screaming, lose-your-voice screaming, apocolypse screaming. I’ve never heard anything like it; it actually hurts my heart. I get out of bed to go see him and TMD, and then Coco wakes up.

Phase five: I’m feeding Coco in my bed. No point in taking her closer to the screaming (despite my desperate need to go see what the fuck is going on and give him a hug) and getting her riled up. She downs a bottle, leans in to me, and is asleep. I decide to put her back in her bed so I can go out into the lounge, but when I walk into her dark room I trip over something, swear, and semi-wake her up. I put her down. Her eyes open wide and look at me. I pick her back up (the ‘oh, fuck it!’ implied) and take her into bed with me.

Snort is still screaming, screaming like the world as we know it is being eaten, bite by painful bite, by mean looking aliens.

Phrase rest-of-the-night: Snort’s screaming continues for at least an hour. I hear TMD singing him his new favourite song (go to youtube and look up ‘feist 1234 sesame street’,yo, it’s gooooooooooood) and apparently dancing around the lounge with him. When she tries to sit down he cries.

Meanwhile, I’m in bed with Coconut. She starts somewhere in the middle of the bed, and I’m very near her. The second I put her down she grabs for her blanket and falls asleep. And then she presses against me. Full body pressing. It’s¬† not that she is lying next to me and our skin is touching. No. It’s like even while she is asleep, every cell in her body yearns to fuse with mine. Sort of like trying to stand upright in the middle of a river with a fast current.

If I move away – a milimetre, a centimetre, an inch – she immediately follows. It is never relenting. Perhaps she is trying to seek comfort from the screaming one room away that is now so epically loud I fully expect Social Services to ring the doorbell any second, perhaps I am emitting some sort of baby attracting pheromone, I don’t know. This delicate dance continues until I am balancing on the edge of the bed, hanging onto the sheets on the other side of her to try to gain some purchase and not fall (all the while trying not to crush her with my arm).

Sidenote: We love cosleeping. Our bed is quite small, and it’s next to impossible to cosleep with two adults and two babies in said bed. These days, both babies are hoggy sleepers and it is hard to fit more than one adult in with either baby.

Everything falls quiet. Everyone falls asleep.

About two hours later the screaming starts up again. All in all, from what my sleep deprived brain can recall, Snort had three horrible periods of being awake for long stretches of time, each screamier than the last. He was so hot to the touch it was terrifying.

The next morning, Coconut and I played in bed for awhile. We then came into the lounge. TMD and Snort were passed out on the couch (yes, blah blah, sleeping on the couch with a baby is bad, blah blah, I know!). Coconut and I looked at each other and played some more on the floor. Eventually the other two woke up, and his fever had broke.

It’s now the following day. Fever is still gone, but he’s got a rattling chest, snotty nose, and coughs. Coconut still seems okay aside from the odd sneeze. Neither baby has The Fever (thankyouthankyouthankyou).

I wonder how long it will take for some semblance of routine and rhythm to return to the house. My original guess was Tuesday, but that was before Snort didn’t go sleep properly till like 1 am last night. Awww yeeeeeaaaah.

Today’s gonna be awesome.

That being said, it’s also some good awesome mixed in with the hopeless awesome. The second I finished typing this (having no clue when the morning nap would happen as everyone slept late after Snort’s semi-sick debacles last night), Snort crawled over, pulled up on my knee, and looked at his bouncy chair.

Did I mention he naps there? Yes, my ten month old was effectively saying, ‘ Yo, Mom, I’m tired.’ I looked at Coconut who had Bunny in one hand and her blankie in the other, sucking her thumb. She was all ready to sleep, too.


Egg donation: my eggs become someone else’s child.

July 2, 2010

I wrote a post last week that briefly mentioned that the woman I donated eggs to would be keen to expand her family using more of my eggs. The comments on that entry (go read ’em!) made me think that this was worth writing more about.

The question that just popped into my mind was, ‘When do they go from being my eggs to her children?’ For me, that happened pretty much instantly.

The first comment was asking me if I ever felt odd about this. She said she wouldn’t want to donate her eggs, as it would be the same as carrying a baby to term and giving it up for adoption. And you know? Of course I sometimes feel odd about it. I started feeling odd right about the time that my children were born, and I suddenly wondered about that third baby out there (in the city just south of me).

Did it look like Snort and/or Coconut? Did it look like me? Would it like writing? Scary movies?

So, yes, I feel that way sometimes. On one occasion I did say to TMD I felt like I’d given a child up for adoption. I have all those feelings, and in a way would love to meet the family I helped to create. I think it would make it easier.

But you know what? Every time I talked to my clinic about this lady, I just felt good. Like a deep, bubbling joy.

I knew I would donate eggs when we went to a presentation at our clinic. I looked at the statistics for conception of babies done by IUI versus IVF and was terrified. I wanted a baby so much it was like my heart was big and fragile and wounded and longing. It was all I could think about, talk about. Having a child has been my deepest longing for years.

And I thought about how badly I wanted one, and then about the women who would need egg donation. If they were straight, they probably tried ‘the natural way’ for a goodish amount of time. Probably had IUI. Probably had IVF multiple times.¬† Waited possible years for a donor egg. Month after month of disappointment, of bleeding, of their dreams becoming more wanted – and more unlikely. Those women are fucking heroes in my book.

So I gave half my eggs to a stranger. In return, my IVF treatment was paid for (egg sharing means I give half my eggs, and recipient couples pay for their IVF and a donor’s IVF).

I got Snort and Coconut, these exact perfect wonders, because I shared my eggs with someone who wanted a baby. My children would not be here at this second if that other baby had not had a chance of existing, if that other family was longing for a baby and remained without one. I had my eggs collected one sunny, if chilly, morning – and from those couple of uncomfortable hours came three shining souls into the world.

I say¬† it’s worth it.

I will probably continue having mixed feelings, but perhaps my truest feelings happen when I hear from that other woman. She sent us a simple card, a card of deep and powerful gratitude (anonymously, it’s all anonymous to protect everyone). She sent messages through the clinic to me. And when my eggs were harvested and in great condition? When the nurse called to congratulate me and say how happy the other woman was, too? My eyes filled with tears for both of us.

I don’t know who she is. I don’t know if she is single or married, gay or straight, young or old. But whoever she is, she went through a lot to get her child. I hope she is parenting that child well, but I choose to believe she is because of the tremendous effort and commitment it takes to have a baby when you are infertile. I would like to meet her and her child when that baby turns 18; I sincerely hope it happens.

On the flip side, we also used donor sperm to conceive Snort and Coconut. Using someone else’s genetic materials makes those children no less fiercely mine. I am grateful to the man who shared his sperm with us. I don’t know who he is, either, but without him, again, our children would not be here.

It all feels quite karma-ish, you know. I give eggs away, and I get two children. I give eggs away because I needed to accept sperm from someone else. I give eggs away because we needed the money for our IVF treatment.

I would consider donating eggs straight out to this family if we chose to not have IVF again for us. This is a surprise to me, because I do still have all the pain and confusion and wondering and hoping for that other child. That child that feels a little bit like he or she is a piece of me, but when I look at our own children I see Рwhen that baby comes into your life  (by embryo, sperm, or egg donation, by adoption, however) that baby belongs to itself. And to your family.

I am happy I do not have several little embryos on ice somewhere, because that would also make me feel nervous and a bit guilty. Instead of being forever frozen and possibly nothing more than potential, should we choose not to have a third or fourth child – those eggs went to someone who wanted a baby and had one.

It makes me feel good. Plain, old fashioned, ordinary good.

Having children has changed my life forever. That my body nurtured two little beings to a full term pregnancy and real kids resulted? Amazing. That somewhere not too far away another woman’s belly was swelling at the same time as mine and I had helped her? Humbling.

I would do it again.

I would not change one thing we did as we tried for a baby, because everything led these two loving, funny, mischievous miracles to our family. I am grateful for that.

Things people do.

June 22, 2010

The scene: a pavement running alongside a beach. The players notice a concrete steep ramp leading down to the beach area.

The players: Leads are a beautiful goddess in a wheelchair and the babies’ grandpa, who is pushing the wheelchair.

The thought in the goddess’ head: Ooh, wouldn’t it be funny if the wheelchair ejected me from it at the bottom? Oh well, let me just throw my hands up over my head, squeal, and pretend I’m on a rollercoaster.

The action: The wheelchair picks up speed as the male lead half runs down the ramp. The female lead’s hands are in the air. The front wheels hit sand and stop spinning, and the goddess flies through the air and lands in a broken heap on the beach.

Shout outs to my homies.

October 23, 2009

Yesterday I made a stroppy remark on Twitter about how nobody paid attention to me. (I know, I know. Boo fuckin’ hoo, right??)

Look what I got!!!!


This is Tatiana and her gorgeous, cheeky girl Maia.

A few minutes later, Jinxy sent myself AND Tatiana this:


Yes, it’s her and her luscious Lily. And a skillfully drawn Montana moose.

Can I just say, I wish these people lived very nearby? I also wish that about Becky. It’s funny. Jinxy always feels sort of close because, well, I waste a LOT of time on Facebook. I’ve discovered some dull ass games that, when played one after the other, actually make for a pretty entertaining time. And I don’t think Jinxy will mind me saying that she plays the same games. Yes, we are soul sisters in a terrain of shit graphics and unchallenging ways to pass the time.

And Tatiana? Well. I have felt like we haven’t talked much lately, and was actually wondering if she still liked me (THIS IS SO HIGH SCHOOL and I cannot believe I am admitting it.), so this picture was nice on many, many fronts.

It’s funny.

I am finding ways to connect with friends via this handy little netbook, keeping me in some sort of contact with the outside world. (I feel grateful for these two women and their stories, their friendships, their selves.) On top of that, Coconut and Snort are becoming more and more fun to be with. This morning we all hung out. Coconut is quite gifted in moving herself around on the floor, and Snort is still trying to roll over. I don’t know. They were smiling and smiling, and I was laughing, and it all felt really nice.

My world inside these four walls is expanding.

Next step is still to take more steps, with my babies. It’s so gorgeous out. I want to be able to go to twins club, and to the first time mums club I’ve been invited to. I want to take myself out for hot chocolate and writing, with these guys along for the ride.

I want to just be able to walk around and let them see the leaves changing colour.

I do think my SPD is improving. Slow and steady wins the race. Fuck those rabbits (yes, I’m jealous of them), I am a turtle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to draw shit on pieces of paper and take pictures of it. See you on the flip side.