Halloween

I can't believe it's been a year since the last pumpkin I carved. I did two. One for each of the boys.

A red battery operated light sat inside the larger one. I have to say, it looked good. Just the right amount of creepy. The pumpkin duo sat on TLG's desk for the longest time. M finally tossed them when one shriveled up and the other collapsed on itself. They looked dreadful but still, I felt sad seeing them go... I don't feel like carving a pumpkin this year. There's so much going on. I feel like I've lost my equilibrium. I need to get it back. Or at least, find someone who can help me get there.

Maybe I should carve a pumpkin. Maybe I need something routine and expected.

I just need to know that everything will be ok.

Neither Here. Nor There.

That's exactly how I feel. Stuck somewhere in the middle. I've never been in this picture:

When circumstances have it, that one partner is left in place and the other may possibly

move on. There aren't time lines or margins. Maybe a year. Maybe two. I'll be here. I'll be

there. Leaving in a week. Maybe two. Away for a month. Maybe more. Maybe less. I hate

to rain on your parade. BUT IT'S POURING OVER HERE.

There Go The Pancakes.

I wanted to make a late evening snack for TLG and myself. The plan was whole wheat pancakes with chocolate chips. That is, till I saw the bugs. First the wheat pancake mix. Then two bags of wheat flour. And the oatmeal. The pancakes were scrapped. The flour and pancake mix tossed into the trash bin. TLG is now fast asleep. But the little black mealy bugs that have invaded my kitchen are far from forgotten. I ended up googling "How to get rid of bugs in flour?" and "Is it safe to consume flour with bugs?" I've learned that, next time, I need to store the flour in the fridge. And while nobody could positively say whether it was safe or not to use flour inhabited by bugs, I would really rather not. The thought of bug poop and microscopic eggs is just gross. Blasted bugs. Where the hell do they come from?

That's My Boy.

Walking to Tutor Club:

TLG: "Is Uncle E. 90 years old?"

Me: "Of course not!"

Me: "What about me? How old do I look?"

TLG: "Somewhere in your twenties."

Me: "What about daddy?"

TLG: "Well in his fifties."

*smile*

Oops, He Did It Again.

TLG has broken his arm again. We just had the cast removed last Saturday. He should have been wearing his splint. But he just finished his bath and was running through the flat (as he normally does) when he tripped on Rocco. I didn't see him fall but I heard the loud thud. The silence after was enough to make me run out of the bedroom. Sure enough, there he was, holding his arm and trying to fight back the tears. "It doesn't hurt so much." So here we are again, with the fourth cast and second broken arm in six weeks. I also forgot to mention the black eye. One of the boys threw a paddle at last week's play date. It landed on TLG's face. This clearly has not been TLG's month.

M. has called from Moscow. He's filled with news about schools, sim cards, new phones, and residential areas. Hearing all this information just fills me with anxiety. I want to say, "I am good where I am at. Why can't we just stay still for a moment." I am not interested in any Skype calls this evening. Not tonight.

Finnish School

I was trying to ease TLG into the possibility of attending Finnish school next term

(without going into the issue of language). Apparently, the prospect of fewer students

and a shorter school day wasn't enough.

"My god woman, I'll be the only one who doesn't speak Finnish." was TLG's

exasperated reply.

Beth Ditto and Little Me.

I was chatting with Big B when TLG interrupted: "Mummy, there's a lady on tv with big, scary boobies."

Ditto. Beth Bitto, that is.

Which reminded me of a previous conversation TLG had with ML:

ML: (in the I-Know-What-You-Did tone) "Big B told me you were looking at boobs.

Checking out the girls huh?"

TLG: (seriously flustered) "Uh. No. Um. It wasn't me. Just my mummy's."