There’s nothing greater, nor more beautiful than the love for your children.
They may drive you round the bend, up the wall, and halfway to China, but you’d give them your last pennies, the clothes of your back and even sacrifice your last flippin Rolo, if the need arose. Oh children, wonderful, amazing children. Gotta love them.
Currently 3/4 Wilsons are asleep. The living room is dark, infact all lights are out dans la maison. A cuppa and kanelbullar have been consumed, and I am ever increasingly convinced that the dishes will be left til the morrow. Could really do without them tomorrow though. Perhaps I can convince myself to do them. Or maybe not.
Tomorrow, even though its Friday, and therefore almost obligatory chill out day, we have an early start and all the bountiful stress that follows,with an appointment for Lily at BVC for 8month check up (eeek gone so fast!!). I may have two little ladies who dont sleep much past 5am, but the prospect of being out of the house and at said appointment for 8.15am feels a little optimistic.
After, we head onwards to town and I shall be hanging on the doors ready for Försäkringskassan to open to give them ten rounds of hell for being so disgustingly incompetent that I am pretty sure 1 deaf blind person could do the jobs of however many fools are emploed by them. Really. And here was me thinking I had moved to a civilized country. Ba ha, ha ha.
My one saving grace amongst all these frantic, panicked thoughts this eve, is that after the appointment and admin bashing, we are taking ourselves off to Linda’s to play and drink tea, alternatively copious amounts of coffee. Yum.
In other news, I have started the process of changing my UK drivers licence to a Swedish one. Thankyouplease £60 admin fee just to APPLY to change it, thieving gits. Where is Robin Hood when you need him!?
Ah well, another week gone and not alot of time for the blog. The phrase ” <something> becomes you” has seen me turned into a knotted, wrangly ball of stress and nervous energy and if I am not high-fivin a potty using Maia, or soothing a seperation anxious Lily, I am quietly weeping for the fact that Bernard’s Watch is not real, and I shall never ever get my hands on it, however blessedly it may be needed.