Tumbleweed

I have been sorely neglecting this blog lately. Not intentionally and not through malice. Mostly it's been through tiredness, boredom, and a sense that I don't really have anything worth sharing with the world.

The highlights of my LittleBear's splendidness seem a bit nauseating to write about - I'm the first to grumble about the ubiquity of Facebragging about one's progeny, so I'm reluctant to dedicate an entire blogpost to my LittleBear's parents' evening, or his starring role in a school dance show, or his fascination with maths, or his dedication to his swimming lessons, or his general adorableness and loving behaviour. See? You're sick of it already.

Meanwhile, there haven't been many moments of delightful whimsy to write about, nor any periods of foolishness on my part which I can harness in self-deprecating fashion. There have been moments of Serious Parenting Failure, such as the point when at 3am I threatened LittleBear that if he didn't go back to sleep he wouldn't be taken to the zoo, which (unsurprisingly) then resulted in a sobbing small boy and a guilty-feeling mother at 3:02am. We cuddled, it was fine, we went to the zoo.

Nor has there been any progress on the building site, though we do now have rumours of a date for the windows to arrive, but I'm pretending to myself it isn't real, to avoid being disappointed when something else bizarre and unpredictable occurs to prevent the windows from arriving.

Work has been so deeply tedious, it's not even worth ranting about.

After a cardboard box was inadvertently left blocking the cat flap, IdiotCat obligingly relieved himself in the building site, and not in the living room. Which is probably good, but still involved having to clear up cat poo. Again.

I've become ensnared in attempting to help run LittleBear's football team, and am now in possession of the glorified title of "Assistant Coach", though in truth it's more "General Dogsbody Who Promises to Attend Every Training Session For Safeguarding Purposes." The downside of this position is that I'm now perceived to Know Stuff, which is sadly untrue, though I'm doing my best.

Much of my time over the past couple of weeks has been pre-occupied with fret-inducing health concerns, the details of which are mostly irrelevant. The short version is that my left eye has suffered a Posterior Vitreous Detachment*, and I have a blurry blob of dense vitreous lurking and obscuring my vision a lot of the time. My choices appear to be "live with it" or "have serious and risky surgery". I think we all can all guess which choice I'll go with. And apparently my brain should adapt and ignore the blurry blob over time. I'm still waiting for an appointment with the consultant ophthalmologist though, and can probably look forward to the same thing happening in the other eye. Though the other eye is exhibiting what may be an early sign of glaucoma - the neuroretinal rim is thinning. I'm caught between feeling, "meh, GrannyBear has glaucoma and it's perfectly manageable, plus my retina is fine, so I've got away with the PVD" and thinking, "Aaggghhhh, I'm going to go blind, this is terrifying." Mostly, the second one only happens in the middle of the night. Because, basically the first one's completely true.

So that's me.

Maybe something entertaining will happen soon, and I'll write about it.


* For those who haven't spent a lot of time reading about PVD, this is where the vitreous in the eye (the gloopy gel your eye is made of) detaches from the retina. It can lead to retinal damage, though hasn't done in my eye at the moment.