Weekend mornings

On the weekends I let Alex sleep late, and by late we are talking gone 7am. I know, right! I’m a giver.

To do this amazing feat I have to shepherd the girls out to the bathroom to pee then on to my study which is the furtherest room from our bedroom. It also has fairy lights which in the dark of 5:30am or 6am is a welcome twinkle.

We had tried some tv in the early morning but it sets the kids off on the wrong foot, and dealing with the post-TV effects pre-breakfast suck. They get plenty of TV sloth time in the afternoon when they really need to be at one with the sofa and rest.

So we just hang out and play on the weekend mornings which is just peachy. Really it is. Especially now we hang in my room. They raid my draws for good art supplies, drag their train tracks through to fill the floor of my tiny room and sit on my knee squirming as I try to work my way through a Duolingo French unit or one on Hadrian.

We watch dawn’s rosy fingers come through the window and decide on breakfast. It’s all good.





Muffin love

I should have taken a video of Nomi eating her morning snack, as she declared them the best muffins ever (marzipan-chocolate chip) and sang their praises as she ate them.



Zoey also got into the act with muffin love but not quite as thick as Nomi. Glad my cooking is appreciate.

Meanwhile back at the ranch

We were all tired today. The Pingus had stayed up late* last night waiting for us to get home. Despite two hours less sleep they got it into their heads that what they needed to do this morning was hopscotch outside. They got dressed by themselves, and there was no stopping them.


We played hopscotch and they drew on the drive. Zoey tried to climb trees without branches. My mum and I raked the leaf dregs.

The rest of the day was inside. Lots of playing with trains and dinosaurs. We watched The Bishop’s Wife. When Dudley dressed the tree with one swipe of his hands the girls tried that on our tree and wanted to know why it hadn’t worked. They went to bed nice and early, hopefully rested enough for a bike ride tomorrow.


“Don’t worry”, she says

I was completely emotionally wiped out yesterday, which is crazy considering I don’t have anything to worry about but I think going through a mammogram (or mammo to use the parlance of the street) is going to squeeze you dry, and I was asleep before 9pm.

At my annual check-up in early December my GYN felt a cyst in my left boob. She told me not to worry as it felt like cyst but she was sending me for a mammo and a sonogram just to be sure. Fine. No problem. Whilst I didn’t worry per se, I’ve carried some tension around, and as a self-cured, pre-Internet hypochondriac I don’t use Doctor Google. So I’ve not escalated things in my MIND.

Yesterday I had a solo trip into NYC for my mammo. I’m grateful to be able to keep my NYC doctor network because it makes things like this easier. I technically passed my mammo. Nothing suspicious in my boobs and no cyst just a dense area but nothing suspicious. Dense tissue became fibrous tissue when talking to my GYN, and whilst there is nothing suspicious she felt I should be referred to a boob specialist to review findings because whilst there is nothing to worry about we should be thorough.

I really wanted to draw a line under this, and move on but I appreciate her being a vocal advocate for my health. So I’m off to see a boob doctor in the New Year. I feel like the tension has lifted but I will be glad to put this to bed.

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