Long time, no blog. Life has been hectic.

Not so many weeks ago (yet it feel like forever), our little household decided to uproot ourselves from this West Auckland shoebox, and haul ourselves 800km down the North Island to a lil’ town called Marton.  We’re still here in our AK shoebox, but the wheels at least are turning. (Even if it is just to fall off the wagon and roll down the hill.)

In late June I drove J down to Marton for a job interview and we returned home to find my mother (who was house/pet/daughter-sitting) couldn’t walk.  She’d been that way since the previous day, but hadn’t wanted to alarm us by letting us know.  She insisted this had happened before and that she’d always come right after a few days, but I took her to the A&E where she was prescribed with a “possible stroke” and we were then sent on to North Shore hospital -which was completely overflowing with people on stretchers in the corridors.

Waitakere hosp had closed its emergency department to incoming and diverted everyone to Nth Shore, so it wasn’t the best time for mum to find herself there.  Three days later she was still in a ward waiting for a CT scan, and when she did indeed begin walking again of her own accord, the docs decided she must be fine and sent her home.  We still don’t know whether she’s been having the progressive strokes the doctors suspect have been the case, but perhaps we’ll find out when it happens next time…

Between worrying about mum’s health, working six day weeks, having a compacted wisdom tooth pulled out and my beloved cat Blackie (yeah I know, really original name) nearly put down because of the reoccurrence of a reoccurring condition, I’ve been feeling like life is closing in on me lately.

Since making this decision to move, J’s twice travelled to Palmerston North for interviews. He was offered the first job, but decided he didn’t want it.  The second interview seemed really positive, but yesterday he was told someone else had been chosen for it.  This process of travelling down to Palmerston every few weeks for an interview is getting expensive.  It’s starting to feel as if Fate likes to open doors simply to slam them shut again as we begin to step through.  Whatever. The packing has begun, and hopefully everything else will fall into place.

My 12 week scan on Tuesday revealed that the Little Parasite (whose name we have inexplicably changed to The Wurzel) has the right amount of arms and legs.  That at least, is comforting.