I was a bit of a softcock, and didn't actually tell mum I didn't want her here after Monkey is born. (Monkey is born?? WTF!!) .... she was too busy crying after I told her how much her recent comments (re. getting my sister Tee to 'help' wash baby clothes, get room ready, etc.) affected me. I told her ... really nicely, that I felt upset that she would get Tee involved, it severely triggered my core issues around being useless and 'stupid'. Mum called me stupid most days when I was growing up - last night on the phone she told me that was my 'perception' of how things were. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So that's it - I give up. I'm not even cranky. But things with her are going to go back to being as distant and vague as I can. I will email her in a few weeks to say I don't want her here for a while. I don't really care that much - whatever. I'm actually not surprised.
So. Today I met with the doctor who's doing the c-section. In 35 sleeps!! I hereby officially rename him, from Dr Eyelashes to Dr STINKY. I had the appointment at the hospital, had Tiger with me. We walked in to his office, sat down, he shuts the door .... oh the stench!! The room was full of a thousand bad breaths. Swear to God, he put the Hal in Halitosis. Fuck it was disgusting. All I could think was, I'm breathing in the atoms of the rotting food wedged between this pricks molars.
He asked questions:
How was I feeling? Great. Get me out of here.
Anything of interest to tell him? Nope. Get me out of here.
Did I have any questions? Nope. Get me out of here.
Suddenly, I realise poor Tiger is sitting, smooshed up against the wall, his hands covering his nose and mouth. His eyes pleading with me - Get me out of here!
I started laughing, and Tiger started laughing. He then starts making "Poo, stinky" signals wih his hands. When the doctor was looking down, writing notes in my file, I would pull my own "something stinks" face. I scrunch my lips as close to my nose as I possibly can. (I discovered I could block out smells this way when I was in a phone box with Mr TC and he lays the most putrid fart.)
Tiger knows exactly what this face means, and starts cracking up even more. Below is a pic of my nephew Tomcat ... Tees son, demonstrating my "something stinks" face ....
Finally, Dr Stinky opens his office door and we were free, free I tell you. Walking down the corridor, a very relieved Tiger turns to me and says "You SERIOUSLY need to get a new doctor."
On c-section day, I'm considering sending Mr TC into the operating theatre with a pack of chewing gum in his pocket, to thoughtfully share around.