Emotionally pooped

Warning: overshare ahead.

I always find that being emotionally exhausted is more stressful than being physically worn out. How about you?

This weekend was one of those where all the issues get brought out from under the rug and poked a bit. Flip, I feel like my issues were tied to the stake and set on fire this weekend.

What is she on about? That is probably the question that people wonder about most but vocalise least when it comes to me ;-)

This weekend started with a heated debate concerning my MIL and ended with a heated debate concerning my MIL. See, my in-laws and I... (how to put this diplomatically?)... have some difficulty getting along.

With my SIL getting married in December, and most of TSC and my conversations over the past week revolving around December holiday plans and his family, things were getting a bit tense. Nevermind the fact that MIL asked me (on my birthday) about when on earth I plan on having babies. Again. After TSC has specifically asked her not to go there.

So, on Friday eve, he had a long, long, long discussion with her on the phone about many, many issues, which ended up with both of them in tears. Maybe this is good for the two of them, maybe not. Who knows.

But it had been a really rough week for me and I had been fragile and needy all day (PMS really sucks). I had just told TSC that I needed some TLC before he went off to make this "quick" phone call. So I was waiting on the veranda with supper, wine, loads of candles and plans for a romatic evening in, while he was having this epic and unheard of discussion inside (his family never ever does deep, confrontational conversations).

Needless to say, the food got cold, the candles spilled wax everywhere, the mosquitoes decided the wine glass was a good place to take a dive and eventually I gave up.

And then he came out and started telling me about all the things MIL had said and that just sent me off the deep end. I am not going to go into details here, but we fought long and hard and only made up late that night, with some issues not really being dealt with properly.

And so, despite having a great time at the Getaway Show on Sat (picked up a great pair of hiking boots for cheap, cheap, plus a load of info about the different places we want to visit), and enjoying the fundraising event we went to (a 70s show called Nite Fever at the Broadacres Barnyard Theatre) with my folks and some friends on Sat eve, there was still some distance between us.

And I hate that. I can handle anything with TSC at my side, but I fall apart when things are crap between us.

We went to The Meat Co. at Montecasino (food was so-so) for a belated birthday lunch for him with my folks and my brother yesterday, and then my mom and dad came to watch the Italian Grand Prix at our house. Then it was church and back home, but I still felt far away from TSC.

Eventually, when we got ready for bed (why is it always when you want to sleep that it all comes to a head?), the unresolved issues reared their ugly heads again and the fight pretty much resumed where it had left off on Friday night.

Thankfully we seemed to work things out a lot better this time. I think he understands my position for the first time (I know it's incredibly hard on him that I don't see eye to eye with his family, but he also needs to realise that it takes two to tango). Although things will still be difficult with them, the fact that he gets where I'm coming from will make a huge difference.

We got to bed well after midnight, so we're both physically exhaused today, but I just feel emotionally drained. Thank goodness we don't have this type of discussion very often - I think I would collapse of emotion-overload.

Here's to a more peaceful, productive week!

Bring back Saturday!

I think that it's only once you're back at work after a holiday that you realise how truly short weekends are. *sigh* And this rainy weather is not conducive to office productivity. We're all dreaming of being home in bed with a good book and a mug of Milo.

The weekend was a good one. We spent Friday evening chilling at home watching How I Met Your Mother upstairs while Isak watched some big soccer match in the living room. We could hear him cheering once in awhile, so it must have been good.

On Saturday morning, I hit the gym for an aqua class, which left me feeling alive and refreshed - a good way to start the weekend. When TSC arrived back from his golf lesson with a mate of ours (late, of course), I made us all a big breakfast of poached eggs, toast and bacon.

Then Isak finished up the last window, TSC and I did a few chores and we all headed to Pretoria. We dropped him off at the station to go home, sending some Christmas presents, veggies from my garden and a load of clothes with him, along with his pay. I think he was hoping we'd give him the R1 000 he needs to cover the monthly installments he's skipped on his furniture repayments, but we just don't have that money to give him.

We then went to spend the rest of the afternoon with my folks. It was good to see them again and we enjoyed a family supper along with my brother and a friend at the new Simply Asia near their house. My dad's latest is to wag his finger at me and say, "Don't put this on your blog!" if he thinks he's said something I could tease him about ;-)

On Sunday morning TSC and I went for brunch with them at the Primi Piatti in Irene Village Mall. The food was great, but it took forever to arrive even though we were the only people in the restaurant. We finished quite late and had to rush back to Joburg in time to make a friend's birthday braai before church. We didn't take meat with us, having just eaten, but TSC (of course) ended up cooking everyone else's food because he's brilliant behind a braai.

This is his last week of holiday before he starts varsity again. On the one hand, I'd like him to finish the projects he was meant to do this holiday (installing shelves in the study, fixing the leaking toilet etc), but on the other hand I think he should enjoy a last week of rest before the craziness begins. Third year is sure to be tough and I'm not looking forward to the stress on him and on us. That said, I'm sure he'll enjoy the new challenge and the fact that he doesn't have to do statistics as a subject this year!

I'll have to plan something nice for this weekend to end off his holiday on a high note. I would ask for ideas, but seeing he's now reading my blog, if you do have any brain waves please email me at doodlesofajourno at gmail dot com. Ta.

Have a fab week.

Quick update

• Blogger has been giving me the finger yesterday and today, so let's hope this goes up.
• TSC, yes, my darling TSC, has surprised me by starting his own blog. Never in a million years would I have thought this could happen. Yay!
• I cannot find the flipping camera cable, so photos will have to wait until I've sorted out the study (am reorganising, so there are boxes and paper everywhere). I tried to load a few pics last night from the home PC, but the formatting in Blogger was out of whack, so you'll have to wait.
• I'm going now.
• Bye.

The keys to keeping us frustration-free

So the garage saga is sorted out. We have new locks on both doors and spare sets of keys for each. It has been an expensive little exercise.

The thing is, I really should have gone and had the keys cut myself instead of nagging TSC to do it. Brilliant as he is at DIY, keeping me warm and taking out the garbage (among other things), he is USELESS with keys.

The other day at varsity, he spent ages stressing out because he thought he'd lost his car keys. He unpacked his bag three or four times, checked his pockets over and over and retraced his path a few times.

Then he found them in his lunch bag with the remnants of his sandwich.

Another day, he borrowed the keys for the squash courts to have a game with a friend. At UJ, if you get the keys, you have to hand your student card in to the keeper in exchange. So when he wanted to get his student card back, he started hunting for the keys. He hunted. And hunted. And stressed. And unpacked the bag, checked the car etc, etc. Do you know where he eventually found them?

On his head.

No lies. He had put them in his cap so as not to lose them, and when he stuck it back on his head, the keys were still inside. I dunno how he walked around all day without feeling them there.

Funny man. He once also left our car keys on the backseat of my parents' car after we'd been out with them. They left for a holiday the next day with our keys still in their car. We had to borrow their other car for the week.

In short, I think I should be the keeper of the keys. I tend to lose tickets and jewellery, not keys. So TSC should keep those (Well, not so much the jewellery. Most of my earrings suit me better) ;-)

So my dears, that I have decided is one of the keys to keeping us argument-free. Har har har... yuk, yuk, yuk.

Have a good one!

Happy bday to my hubby

TSC turns 25 today, and even though he never reads this blog, I am going to use the chance to gush about him while I have a good reason to be soppy.

Feel free to gag.

TSC and I met six years ago and couldn't stand the sight of each other. Since then, we have both changed a lot and I have come to appreciate the good bits about him. And there are a lot. Here are 25 of my favourite things about my husband on his 25th birthday:

1. He stuck with me through some of the darkest times in my life, even when I was horrible to be with and totally ungrateful for his support.
2. When he holds me, I feel totally safe and at peace.
3. Because I am a social being, he has learnt to be one too. Despite not being big on groups, he has moved from sitting in the corner sulking (he did this at the first bday party of mine he attended) to being a fantastic host and someone who's easy to chat to.
4. He has the sexiest backside in the world, IMO.
5. He gets on with my parents and tolerates my brother.
6. He takes care of me when I'm sick / stressed / upset. If he knows I'm unhappy for any reason, he'll run me a hot bubblebath and pour me a glass of wine. Who wouldn't love someone like that?
7. Although his family has never been big on birthdays / Christmas / present-giving in general, he knows that mine has and makes a concerted effort to be good at a) giving me bday presents I will treasure, b) getting excited about presents I give him.
8. Over the years, he has learnt to say 'sorry' after a fight, sometimes even if it wasn't his fault.
9. He's ready to fight for me if necessary.
10. After a long day of dealing with difficult clients, I need to vent and he lets me. He even tries (although not very successfully, I have to admit) to remember which client is which and get upset about repeat offences with me.
11. He thinks I'm gorgeous. And even when I feel hideous, he tells me that.
12. He smells good, even when he's not wearing his aftershave.
13. He makes me laugh.
14. We can have fun doing anything together, from painting the spare bedroom to reading the paper on our veranda like old folks, chatting as we drive, watching DVDs on our couch, grocery shopping or even working out a budget on the back of a serviette.
15. He has learnt to have an argument with me, rather than bottling things up and never sorting them out.
16. I think his family still blames me for the fact that he lives far away (even though as far as I'm concerned, that was his own choice in the beginning). While in the past he has not stood up to them for me, he has now made it clear that although he will always be their child, he has a family of his own now.
17. He feels the same way I do about having kids - not ready to think about it yet.
18. He hates gardening, but because he knows I love my garden, he diligently mows and waters the lawn for me.
19. He can cook. And when I can't make supper (like last week, when I was working on that insane deadline), he steps in and cooks for us.
20. He has the cutest laugh.
21. He's ticklish, which (seeing he's double my size) gives me an effective weapon against him when he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder ;-)
22. He never knows the lyrics to songs, so he makes up his own.
23. We generally agree on movies - what's good and what's not - with a few exceptions. On the other hand, we DO NOT have the same taste in music. At all. But he'll usually agree not to play music that he knows I hate if I'm in the car with him.
24. He does a lot of the icky chores in the house - taking out the dustbin and sorting out the catbox, for instance.
25. He's so different to me. We complement each other and balance each other out.

OK, gagfest done.

Dr Moron

On Monday I took TSC to his follow-up appointment with the eye specialist. I don't like this man. Firstly, he always keeps us waiting. And I'm not talking about 15 minutes either. When TSC went in for the op, he waited for four and a half hours. Secondly, the doctor has this patronising way of speaking to people, like he's the only one over the age of five in the room. That is one of my pet peeves in life (probably because I'm small and tend to get it a lot as people think I'm younger than I am).

Also (and this is the biggie), the twit didn't explain properly to TSC how to use the meds he gave him at the last appointment. Instead of the little eye-drop bottles with stick-on labels that contain dosage details and instructions like you'd get at the pharmacy, TSC was given bottles with handwritten orange stickers that just had the name of the drops, not how often / how long to use them for.

I was at the last appointment, and I made notes on how often TSC needed to use the drops (the clear one needs to be kept in the fridge and should be used morning and night; the one in the white and green bottle should also be used twice daily but doesn't need to be refrigerated; the tear gel should be used at least four times a day...etc).

After a week of TSC using all these lovely, expensive meds, I asked how long he had to use them for. He didn't know - neither the nurse he saw after the op who dished them out, nor the moronic doctor had mentioned it. "Well call them!" I said.

But the doctor was on holiday. He was still on holiday when TSC got the paint in his eye. I couldn't believe he hadn't left someone responsible for his patients. TSC explained he had - his associate, who would happily see TSC. And charge him his exorbitant new-patient consultation fee.

We reasoned that if nobody had said anything, the meds were probably meant to be taken until the follow-up consultation.

So, on Monday, we get there and the doctor asks TSC how his eye is doing. TSC says it's still sore, scratchy, light-sensitive and blurry and that the meds aren't helping - they actually seem to make it worse. At which point the doctor says that they probably are making it worse, seeing they are only meant to be used for a week post-op. He also manages to make it sound like we are silly children who didn't listen properly and that this is all our fault. I interject that we weren't told how long they were to be used. "Oh. Sorry," he says nonchalantly, before going on to tell TSC that by using the drops, he's probably made the eye far worse than it could be and that he'll need another prescription of new expensive meds to correct the damage.

He removes the last stitch from TSC's eye (shudder!) and shooes us out of his office. Without the promised prescription. TSC will now need to call and go through to pick it up. What a waste of time!

Not happy with this doctor dude - supposedly one of the top specialists in his field in the province. I have a fantasy of breaking into his house while he's sleeping and sticking an earbud (Q-tip) into his eye and yelling, "How do you like that, hey? Hey?!"

Grrrr.

A real eyesore

Poor TSC! Although it is his own fault, silly man.

We are repainting the upstairs rooms in our house at the moment (adding a bit of colour to two feature walls and giving a fresh lick of paint to the walls that have marks from the paintings the previous owners had hung). TSC is very handy in this regard as he spent three years at a painting and waterproofing company. But with his eye op, one would think he'd be careful while scraping old paint off the ceilings. Because he wasn't wearing safety goggles, yesterday he managed to get a fleck of paint in the tender eye that was operated on two weeks ago. It scratched the inside of his eyelid and seemed to get stuck there.

He tried washing it out with water, then with tear gel, but nothing worked. I suggested that maybe it would come out during the night, but this morning his eye was even more swollen and red and he said it felt like the paint was still there. So he made me get a torch and try to get the paint fleck out with an earbud (Q-tip). I worried that this would cause more irritation, which it did, but he was insistent.

He was in such pain that I suggested he move his doctor's appointment forward. No can do - the doc is on a two-week holiday. His associate can only see TSC tomorrow and wants to charge him a ridiculous amount.

I spoke to my mom (who is a GP) and she reckons he should go to a hospital with an opthalmology unit and see a doctor in casualty. I phoned him to tell him this and he said it's feeling a bit better, so he'll wait and see if it's ok by this afteroon. Typical! I hate seeing him in pain, but he won't let me or anyone else try to help him. Grrr... Love him so much but wish I could just throw him over my shoulder and take him to the doctor right now!

At present, he looks something like this:

The actual hitting of me (teen love story, part two)

In yesterday's post, I started telling you the long and probably boring story of Coach - the first guy I fell head-over-heels for. I'm writing this becuase I've been thinking over my realisation for awhile and I need to have it written down. So, whether you are interested or not, here's the rest of the story:

When I was in grade 11, I remember telling Coach about the guy I was planning to invite to my grade 11 dance (a fellow redhead who didn't last long as a boyfriend because people kept thinking we were brother and sister - eww!).

As a ballroom and Latin champ, Coach got invited to a lot of dances. He was heading off to a Matric dance (the South African version of a prom) at a rival school to mine that week. He said that particular school held the best dances. I asked if he'd ever been to one of the dances at my school and he said no. I told him that OUR dances were INFINITELY better and informed him that he would be coming to my Matric dance the following year. He didn't have a choice.

One year later, I hadn't forgotten about my promise. But... despite my unwavering dedication to Coach, I was getting a bit frustrated with the fact that even though everyone agreed that he had feelings for me too, he hadn't done anything about it (he has always been rubbish with girls). I had started to attend a small group from my church and there was a guy in the group who had piqued my interest. Let's call him Brian (because that was his middle name).

Brian was the polar opposite of Coach... Shy, artistic and in no way a sportsman. We had friends in common and we saw each other regularly. He had a quirky sense of humour and was so gentle with me (unlike Coach, who would just pick me up and throw me over his shoulder if he felt like it). I decided I really, really liked Brian. And when he invited me to his Matric dance, it confirmed that the feeling was mutual. In our oh-so-high-school-way, we tentatively started to date.

But I had already invited Coach to my Matric dance, and I explained this to Brian. He seemed to be ok with it - he was really laid back. I called Coach to remind him of the fact that he was my dance partner and then gushed about Brian for ages. Coach was less chatty than usual. Eventually he managed to gruffly interrupt me and say, "By the way, I hope you know that you're MY Matric dance partner too?"

I hadn't known, actually. He'd never mentioned it before.

As it was, it turned out that his dance was the night after mine. I was thrilled to be invited (because the more dances you went to, the more your pathetic high-school status improved) and set about organising dress number three. Then Tim (his real name), a very odd friend of mine, invited me to his college dance and I was over the moon. Four dances - I was no longer just a teenage dirtbag. Of course, it turned out that Tim's dance was the night after Brian's dance, just to make life that much more complicated.

All the dances were great fun, although I discovered that Brian didn't dance. He also sulked about the fact that I was going to dances with other guys. I had an absolute blast at my dance and Coach's, despite comments from all our teachers about the fact that we'd picked the most unsuitable partner possible in terms of height.

After the spate of dances, Brian and I continued to date and I honestly thought I was over Coach, although we were still great friends. We talked each other through our final exams and then parted ways after high school - me to do a gap year in Pretoria with a church and him to study sports management (what else!).

Brian and I dated long distance for a year before I realised that he wasn't right for me. By that time I'd met TSC and we'd been through the I hate you / you're not so bad / let's be friends cycle and were best buddies. Coach and I had kept in touch but weren't close anymore.

TSC and I eventually started dating (long-distance) when I headed to Cape Town to study. Coach and I were at a stage where we only talked once every few months. Then TSC moved down to Cape Town and things got serious between us.

I had always stuck to my routine of going on camp for the holidays, although by this stage was a leader. Coach hadn't come on camp for awhile, but we'd always said we'd do one last one together.

And we did. And I discovered that even though I was madly in love with TSC, I still found my heart speeding up when Coach was near. I still got that tingly feeling when he touched my arm or spoke my name (he had nickname for me that only he could get away with). Our friendship returned to the way it had always been. He was actually dating his first girlfriend by this time, but we spent more time together that camp than they did, laughing and arguing for hours again.

I saw him a few times after that and decided that I would need to accept that I would never really be able to totally get over him.

The last time I spoke to him, it was to invite him to my wedding. He didn't come. I was a bit hurt, but secretly quite relieved.

TSC and I were incredibly happy together (still are). Coach called me to say he was off to spend a year overseas. I wished him well. I had no way of contacting him (I'm not on FaceBook) and I wasn't that interested, to be honest.

After about a year, I remembering wondering if he was back yet. And then forgetting about it.

Until he called me last week. And then it hit me like a car door in the soft part of a shin...
There were no butterflies...
There was no giddy headrush...
There was no tingly feeling at the sound of his voice...

Just happiness to talk to an old friend.

We chatted for over an hour, catching up on what he was up to and how our lives had changed. I jabbered about TSC and our cats and our house, and he chattered away about his overseas trip and his new job. We shared a few laughs and memories and it was great. And then we hung up.

And this overwhelming peace settled over me that I married the best person I possibly could whom I love with every cell in my body (go ahead and gag - it's true) and that Coach and I were never meant for each other.

We've both grown up. We've both changed. And while I look forward to enjoying my great friendship with him, I know that we'll never be as close as we were and that there is no romantic "what if" floating between us.

Things are as they were meant to be. For each of us. And it's awesome to know that.

The next interview instalment

Last week I started answering the questions that Shania sent me, and here is the next one, which takes up a whole post on its own:

3. In this post you mention that "it took a slap" for you and your husband to start getting along. Care to offer details?

Ok... TSC and I met during a gap year programme we did at a church in Pretoria. We all (80-something of us) lived in student houses (where I shared a room and a cupboard with five other girls). There were three of these houses: two that were co-ed and one that was all girls. I was in one of the co-ed ones and he was in the other. I can distinctly remember the first time I met him...

The house I was in was the only one with a swimming pool, so we invited the others over for a braai (BBQ) and to cool off in the pool. Of course, a game of water polo / piggy in the middle / stingers started up. We were all playing, and I noticed a gorgeous guy from the other house who was in the thick of things. Just then, someone knocked the ball out of the pool near where I was, so I hopped out to get it. As I came back to the pool, someone grabbed my ankle and tried to pull me back into the water to grab the ball from my clutches.

It was that gorgeous guy, now known as TSC, and he ended up pulling me off balance so I fell into the water, painfully scraping my entire leg against the sharp brick edge in the process. I had a massive scrape on my inside thigh that started bleeding. And he just grabbed the ball and off he went - no apology or anything. "What an arrogant pig!" I remember thinking, not knowing at the time that he could barely speak a word of English and was so embarrassed that he'd hurt me that he'd run away at full speed.

You can imagine my joy (not) when the outreach teams were announced and I discovered I'd be spending hours with this awful person. In fact, I didn't like anyone on my team. Funnily enough, five years down the line, one of them is my husband, another is one of my best friends and another was the best man at our wedding. Shows you that first impressions aren't always that accurate ;-)

TSC and I butted heads frequently during our outreach training. We both have strong personalities and can be EXTREMELY stubborn, and we couldn't bear each other. Eventually, sitting in a cramped minibus for six hours on the way to a town in the middle of nowhere for a one-week outreach, we got to talking. During that week, we chatted a bit more, and I decided that he wasn't so bad. I could just about bear him. Although I still found him chauvinistic and a bit abrasive.

But TSC is the world's worst passenger - if he's not driving a car, you don't want to be in it with him. He fidgets and gets irritable and just can't keep still. On our way back from the town in the middle of nowhere, TSC and I were sitting next to each other and he was quickly driving me insane. He had decided that it would alleviate his boredom if he annoyed me as much as possible, so he kept doing childish things like sticking his finger in my ear or trying to poke me in my neck (I hate, HATE, HATE people touching my neck). Eventually, he picked something up and was dangling it in front of my face, trying to bump me in the forehead and I was fending him off with both hands, when one of them decided to slap him hard across the face.

I maintain that I had no intention of slapping him at all - it just happened. My hand had obviously had enough and decided to let him know. And I felt TERRIBLE about it! I kept trying to apologise to him, but he just turned his back on me and wouldn't talk to me at all.

Three hours in total silence in a cramped minivan is not comfortable, let me tell you. Eventually, when we stopped for a pee break, I got his cell phone number from one of the people on the team. When we were on the road again (I was still sitting next to him), I sent him a text message apologising for the slap. For some reason it worked. And he seemed to respect me a little bit more. As though he'd figured out (took him long enough) that women aren't all docile and simpering.

See... all some men need is a good smack ;-) KIDDING!

Anyway, we became friends after that and often joked about the slap. At the end of the year, I realised that I needed to break up with my boyfriend of the time, although it had nothing to do with TSC who had gone back to Upington. I didn't think I'd see him again and I was really sad at losing someone who had become such a close friend.

But when he rang me up to tell me he was coming back to Pretoria, my heart leapt a mile high and I realised that I felt a lot more than friendship for him.

When he arrived, we discussed the fact that I was fresh out of a relationship and that I was leaving for Cape Town to study for three years and that it didn't make sense for us to start a relationship.

But we got together anyway. He moved down to Cape Town six months later. And just under three years after we started dating, I married the man I had once detested.