T-shirts, Strangers and Dancing

When I was a kid, a friend of my parents gave me a green t-shirt, with white writing on it. It read: "I never get lost because everybody always tells me where to go."

It was pretty cruel. I didn't know what it meant at the time ... but I liked wearing it, because it always made people laugh. Someone asked me once ... "What do you think that shirt means?"

Blushing bright red, I said that I thought it meant that I could ask for directions. Cue fits of laughter from all of the adults in the room.

Years later, I suddenly remembered that shirt and realised what it meant. I was furious.

Now, my lovely little seven-week old Monkey has been quite unsettled for a while now, his long jags of crying have led mummy to have several mini-meltdowns.

Perhaps it was a bit mean of me to dress him in this shirt?



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It reads "Sookie Sookie La La." *********** EDITED TO ADD .... In Australia, 'sook' means to be a crybaby. To my credit, I didn't take a photo of him actually crying in it. Actually, he has hardly cried much at all lately. Poor little guyo - first mummies boobs stopped working, then he gets a formula so rich he couldn't poo. Now, with a soy formula, it's all happy days. Thank the LORD IN HEAVEN ABOVE.


Ahem.


He still has SUCH a hard suck. I found this bib ...



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He gulps so much air when he's downing his bot-bot (in 2 seconds flat ... that's my boy!) that when I lift him up to burp him, I have started getting a little scared. He burps like Barney from the Simpsons - so loud, and strong. The room gets filled with formula fumes. It's freaking hilarious.



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In other news .... Mr TCs third bout of chemo is tomorrow. Tee is here and will take him. Mr TC and I have been incredibly strained with each other lately. It's awful. We are like strangers. I can't even look at him much. There's so many unsaid things there, he hurt me a lot when he lashed out last week. I'm still angry .... and I MUCH prefer to feel anger than pain. The pain of watching him go through this is relentless - I can't imagine what it's like for him. He won't tell me - won't tell anyone. I don't think we've ever been this distant before. My bald husband is having chemotherapy and what do I want to do? Go dancing. I've organised with a friend to go out on Saturday night. I never, EVER go out. I just need to be a bit free, let loose, shake all the cobwebs out. And then I will resume my regular caretaking.