Feeling a bit shit today.  Ooops, bad mum.  Your dad keeps harping on at me about how I’m not going to be able to swear with a baby / child.  I guess I should make an effort.  Anyway.  I feel a bit crappy today.  The whole, “I sprained my ankle” thing has turned into “I may need surgery on my ankle to be able to use it properly again” after a visit to the physio.  Damn damn damn. And I am annoyed that the first physio I went to the other day immediately after straining the ankle was so crap.   She had no idea, and just taped it up.   I knew she was crap, that’s why I booked back in for my normal physio on Saturday.  I figured at the time that really too much treatment close to a sprain is not really helpful anyway, so I’d just rest and then get better treatment on Saturday.  But unfortunately yesterday he basically said there wasn’t much he could do and I need to go and see an orthopaedic surgeon for an opinion.  And no walking, cycling, yoga, swimming blah blah blah in the meantime.  Yeah, I know I should keep positive until I get that opinion.  Which is what I did yesterday.  I just can’t do it today.

Coupled with the fact that all the pairs of shorts I tried on this morning didn’t fit, and it wasn’t so much the belly only being the problem as the ass and legs as well, I got a bit, “I’m going to turn into a big fat pregnant blimp and I can’t even go for a walk!  I feel horrible!”.  Kinda whiney.  It didn’t help that I spent the whole morning lying down re-reading a book (a good one – The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri): reading for too long puts me in a bit of a funk too.  And then when I’m done reading not being able to really walk around all that much to enjoy the gorgeous day just pees me off even more.  I’m putting it down to you as well.  Have been feeling really good but I guess with exaggerated highs come exaggerated lows.  And for the first time I’ve let worry really panic me a bit.  I haven’t felt you moving for a day or two and I’m worried about you.  Its silly, because no matter what there is nothing that can be done, but it would be nice if you could just give me a few good strong kicks.  Try the kidneys.  Yes, slightly masochistic too.   Today is a bit low.

So again, it is with food that I console myself or attempt to focus on positives and fun things.  A friend was asking me the other day if I have been craving anything, or if I have really noticed wanting milk ’cause apparently babies growing in bellies need a lot of calcium.  Apparently, you will suck it out of my bones if you don’t get enough in my diet (You really are a fully-blown parasite, huh?   Trying to kill me with osteoporosis before you’re even born).   Funnily, I didn’t think I had been craving dairy – I do eat yoghurt for breakfast with fruit most days, and lotsa cheese.  But then when talking to her I realised that I have been having a few hot chocolates at work throughout the week, and have even had a few milkshakes too, just ’cause I felt like it.  I usually really don’t like milk.   Once a year I might get a craving for a milkshake.  Usually strawberry.  Your dad groans and tells me that I don’t need one.  I insist for the next hour.  He gives in.   We sit down and I get through about half.   Then I give it to your dad to finish as I feel so full I couldn’t possibly drink another sip, even though it tastes good and refreshing.   Then I start to feel ill.   I keep the ill feeling to myself for about half-an-hour until it gets kinda bad, then I usually let out a big, “I feel sick, I need to lie down” groan.  Your dad says, “I told you so, you shouldn’t have had that milkshake”.  I think, “But I enjoyed drinking it”, but keep that to myself to elicit maximum sympathy.  There is none forthcoming from your dad.  He’s not good on sympathy when you’ve ignored his advice (heed the warning).

Anyway, I have noticed dairy related desires.  I won’t put them down as cravings, more as desires.  So yesterday for some reason I really felt like eating that greek-style rice custard that you can buy at the markets in West End and a few other random places.   So after dragging myself around the house feeling sorry for myself, I’ve managed to cheer myself a little but cooking it.  Pretty good first effort too (if I do say so myself).  I’d tweak it next time to make it milkier and less rich, but it tastes good.  Ryzogalo is apparently the name.  Have eaten a large bowlful and now feeling slightly less morose.

ryzogalo - yum.

your dad eating ryzogalo

Hope you’re well.  Kick me would you. please.

mum

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