Exam day

from here

After a week or so of studying in most available moments, my brain was to my notes what one magnet is to another magnet of the same polarity. I therefore decided last night to prioritise sleep over cramming, and jumped into bed at 10pm. Approximately 2.5 minutes later, Moses (who had taken forE.V.E.R to drift off earlier) started whimpering, so I asked him what was up and he said he needed water; I got him some water, told him to go back to sleep, and jumped back into bed. Not long after that he started whimpering again, and I informed him sternly that if he couldn’t sleep he had to lie there quietly while he tried, because everyone else needed sleep and we didn’t want to be disturbed (he sleeps in our room). He responded by throwing up.

This is the third time Mo’s vomited in his life so far, and the first time it’s continued for a bit rather than just being a one-off type thing. Anyway, I won’t bang on about it except to say that as it turns out, I do not cope well with vomit or vomiting people, even if it’s my own child (I’d been hoping that if I ever found myself in a position of having to care for a repeatedly-spewing child that some maternal thing would kick in and override my gag reflex, but no. Let the record show that that did not happen). Fortunately it turns out that Alan’s really good with vomiting people! So hurrah for Team Morrow. Next time I’ll know my job is to run around grabbing towels and remaking the bed and gagging and wringing my hands and feeling useless, because Alan has the soothing and bucket-emptying and cuddling and sheet-washing covered. This is good to know.

Hazel vomited this morning, only once. I had a feeling she might, because Alan had dressed her in a light woollen jumper that had finally made it back into her wardrobe after around 4 months of waiting to be washed (I’ll aim to have it clean and dry again by next winter). Alan thinks Hazel’s brief spew is unrelated to Mo’s and completely coincidental. I think not, even though I’ve no idea what the actual cause was. We’ve agreed to disagree.

///

My exam is done! The last time I did an exam was at the end of 2012 (one day before finding out I was pregnant with Hazel, in fact). After that one, I lay down my pen when time was up and thought to myself, “I TOTALLY SMASHED THAT EXAM.” This morning when time was up I lay down my pen and thought to myself, “I think I’ve passed?”

For the rest of the day post-exam I celebrated by having lunch and a cinnamon scroll at the park with Alan, Mo and Hazel, going to the library and then playing soccer at another park with Mo, then heading to the post office to wait around at the post box for the guy to come and empty it because I wasn’t sure if I’d sealed the envelope shut before dropping my exam into it earlier (you may be thinking, how much of what she studied could she have possibly remembered if she couldn’t even say, 3 minutes after putting her exam papers into an envelope and posting it, whether or not she’d sealed that envelope? and I’d reply to you, THAT IS A VERY GOOD QUESTION)(It turns out I had sealed the envelope, if that makes you feel better). We finished off the day by doing blind honey tests, in which we each tasted the two different honeys in our pantry to see if there really was a difference between the cheap one and the expensive one (Alan: There’s no difference except for the price. Me: There IS a difference, and I will prove it to you). I won. (Mo thinks both are yummy.)

And now I’m blogging! Weeeee! And I realise that I was doing that even before my exam, but now I’m blogging sans guilt, and it feels WONDERFUL! I’m off to watch some guilt-free TV and go to bed guilt-free late! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Songs I've been listening to obsessively

 In roughly the order of how obsessed I am, from EXTREMELY to rather.

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainwright. (This song describes my exact experience. For me, the "unmentionables" = Berocca.)

Jericho by Rufus Wainwright

 Plastic Loveless Letter by Magic Dirt

Into the Wild by LP

Throw Your Arms Around Me by Paul McDermott and Friends. (I LOVE the beat in this version. Listening to this song makes me want to a) join a choir and b) marry Paul McDermott's voice.)

Making the Nouveau Riche by Blueline Medic

Bring it Home to Me by Sam Cooke

Runaway by Kanye West (I tried so hard not to love this song, but it didn't work)

Word Crimes by 'Weird Al' Yankovic. (I love that this version lets me enjoy the music but with lyrics I can cope with.)

My exam's tomorrow.

Teeth

Going to the dentist makes my day!

Some people like to spend thousands of dollars on a holiday, or a new car. Some like to splurge on spa treatments or entertainment. Not me! I like going to the dentist and spending all of my money there! Who needs holidays when one can instead recline on a plastic chair in the clinical comfort of a dentist’s office, enjoying the gaggy sensation of having one’s mouth occupied for hours by the fingers of two separate people, a mirror, a whiny drill, a sucker, and a plastic prop designed to keep one’s jaw stretched open wide? Who?! And who would go see a band or a play or ballet when one could instead watch David Attenborough’s Kingdom of Plants 3D (no sound) while mists of spittle spray from one’s mouth and settle prettily over one’s face? There really is no better way to spend one’s dosh than at the dentist, that’s what I say! That’s where you’ll find me most weekends for the rest of the year, being pampered! (Well, probed and prodded, which is the same thing, kind of!) Hurrah!

///

I have terrible teeth, which may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I had my mouth checked by a dentist only two times in my first 26 years of life. Since then I’ve spent thousands – THOUSANDS, people – of dollars having holes filled and roots canalled and crowns added in the hope that at least some of my own actual teeth will stick around to celebrate my 60th birthday with me (I’ve promised pavlova – my teeth love pavlova [which also may or may not have something to do with the fact that I have terrible teeth]).

Photo by Diane Sylvester. Additions to the photo by me.

Moses has good teeth. In fact, Mo thought his teeth were so great, he grew an extra one, which is why he needs to see an orthodontist later this month. One (small) positive thing about Mo’s “supernumerary” tooth is that it’s made me okay with his finger-sucking over the years; when people have told me I should try to stop the finger-sucking in order to ward off future orthodontic issues, I’ve been able to explain that it seemed to me that his extra tooth would come in higher on the list of Things To Worry About, Orthodontically Speaking, so I was okay with letting the finger-sucking continue for a bit longer. One (giant) negative thing about his extra tooth is that it’s pushing all of his regular, supposed-to-be-there teeth out of the way and freaking out dentists and parents alike about what will happen when the next batch of teeth want to grow through but can’t find room. There has been covert talk of extraction. I am very nervous about the appointment.

Studying [TV, movies and books] Very Hard

My exam has been booked in on the 11th of November, and now that it’s attached to an actual date rather than being a vague “at some point during the next month” thing, I’ve started freaking out, knuckling down, and properly procrastinating. It is for this reason that I have no idea what the point or definition of a sacrament is, but I’m completely up-to-date with the latest episodes of John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme and am two-thirds of the way through The Wife Drought by Annabel Crabb (this season isn’t the funniest of the Souvenir Programme, but it’s still an enjoyable way of passing the time; The Wife Drought is gold in a hilarious but also infuriating way - I’ll be bombarding you with quotes soon). Please allow me to now tell you about more fascinating non-study things I’ve been spending my time on (the clever thing about blogging as procrastination is that I’m sitting at my computer and I look like I’m working!!!!!!):

I’ve just finished watching the first season of Girls, which I kind of expected to hate but didn’t. It’s funny. I love that the characters are messy and ordinary, and that they’re more interested in figuring out who to be and what to do with their lives than shopping for shoes or finding Mr Right; I keep thinking, “I’ve never seen anything so normal on TV before,” and I LOVE that. I love that I can see a younger me in their self-centredness and angst and also in their friendships and fun; there was a scene in which Hannah and Marnie crazy dance in their apartment, and the refreshing relatability of it made me teary. I hope season two’s just as good.

As for movies I’ve seen lately, the film August: Osage County was brilliant, but a couple of the characters are just a leeeettle too close to the crazy person trapped inside me I’m absolutely terrified will one day claw her way out, so I think perhaps I got too emotionally involved and ended up feeling battered and nervous when it was over. I really liked it, though. In a painful, scared way. 

The film About Time was not what I’d expected; I’d assumed, seeing the movie poster when it was out, that the title referred to a long-awaited marriage proposal, which seemed a bit dull and overdone, but it turns out I’d made an ass of u and me because it’s not about that at all. I liked it, and though it was cheesy and I felt as though I was being emotionally manipulated throughout the entire film, it was quite touching in parts (even with me rebelling and trying very hard not to be moved) and overall pretty good. The soundtrack was made up of songs I have in a single playlist, so I kinda felt like it should have been my movie match, but there was a lot that I found unrealistic about it (besides the main premise, which was expectedly unrealistic), although maybe some wives are always cheery, gorgeous, quick to forgive, and fun to be around, like Rachel McAdams’ character, and it’s just that I’m not her and therefore find it hard to believe. Poor Alan. Also I get rather cranky when very skinny actors who have supposedly just had their second child put on a dress and say, “But this makes me look lumpy!” You want to see lumps, McAdams?! I screech at the television. I’LL SHOW YOU LUMPS! It made me pine for season two of Girls.

And Hope Springs was okay, but I didn’t understand Tommy Lee Jones’ character at all, so I just spent the whole movie wanting to yell at him and give Meryl Streep hugs. And towards the end I thought maybe I’d worked him out but he then did things that didn’t make sense with who he’d been before that, so I just gave up. I did like Steve Carell as the marriage counsellor, but then I’d like Steve Carell as anything, so that wasn’t particularly surprising. Are you still with me? I’m running out of things to review.

Oooh, books! I’ve been reading a bit, too. Having now ploughed my way through three of her novels, I can tell you that I have a bit of a crush on Liane Moriarty (I even sent her a fan letter, so… it’s pretty serious). My favourite was The Last Anniversary. Her writing always makes me laugh, and her characters (most of them, at least) are very likeable, and the stories have just enough intrigue to keep you wanting to stand around and read instead of, say, making your child the toast he’s been politely, and then less politely, asking you for over the last hour or so little while. I enjoyed The Husband’s Secret slightly less than What Alice Forgot and The Last Anniversary, but I still liked it, and I will continue to borrow and devour whatever writing of hers I can get my addicted hands onto. (When I raved to a friend about The Last Anniversary she looked at the cover of the book and said, “Annelise, this looks like chicklit.” I have no idea what chicklit is, but if it’s embarrassing then please just imagine this last paragraph was whispered, and we’ll never speak of it again.)

I also read Can’t We Talk About Something More PLEASANT? by Roz Chast, which I borrowed from the library without really knowing what it was (I’d skim-read a review and reserved it more because I trust the reviewer than because I’d paid any attention to what she’d said about it); I loved this one, too. It’s a memoir in words and drawings about Chast’s elderly parents’ last few years of life, and it’s quite funny and quite sad and incredibly honest, which I always appreciate. Athough it will be many years until my parents are in their 90s (my grandparents still aren’t in their 90s), it answered some questions I didn’t know I had (yes, it may be the case that not everything will feel like it’s been resolved when your parents die; yes, you may therefore still have angry dreams about them after they’re gone, etc.) and brought up questions I guess I’ll have to wait to find out the answer to (Roz is an only child, so it therefore fell to her to make the decisions about her parents’ care; what do you do when you’re one of 9 [on my mum’s side] or one of 4 [on my dad’s]? Do step-children get a say too [that would bump the numbers up to 11 and 8, respectively]? Are there rules about things like this? Do we need to have an idea early, or do we just wait and see who’s still around and what we’re all up to?). Here’s a small sample from the book:

from here

So, yeah. You should read it. Op, Hazel’s awake! Better go get her up. Such a pity – I was just about to start studying.