jinxed housewife

I begin my glorious day of stay at home nurse, mother, cleaner, washer, helper, entertainer and mostly stroppy person by trying to take my sick daughter to the doctor. We are on day six after all.

Has there been an earthquake? A tsunami? A tragedy beyond the skill of the local medics to overcome? No no no. The medical centre computer system is down. So although I am there, with my sick daughter on a cold wet day and although all the doctors and nurses are there, I cannot even have a nurse's assessment (routine for emergency appointments here) while the computer is down. We eventually leave, unimpressed, with a note for the nurse to ring me when the computer is working.

She never rings. Thank goodness today is Brighid's turnaround day and she is now clearly on the mend. Not sure what will happen to medical care here in Wetville when a big earthquake does happen. I don't expect computer systems to survive a big rumble and surely, neither does any other thoughtful person think that?

Back home, I wonder what else I can do. I work pretty hard to supply good food to my family and complementary therapy to enhance their systems, conventional medicine when necessary, clean clothes, fresh water, enough sleep. The only thing I can think of is to have a cleaner house. So I start cleaning the kitchen, wiping down cupboards and clearing cluttered surfaces. Part way through I remember Hilary Butler (author of exceptionally useful books on vaccination and nutrition and the website 'beyond vaccination') mentioning that so often mothers find themselves back at square one six weeks after using antibiotics on their sick children.

Oh. Not six weeks here but nine weeks. Hmmm. Well hopefully we will get through this one without abs and keep on improving her immune system.

Notwithstanding this revelation, I continue cleaning. A bit more clean, some more deep clean not surface stuff, it must help.

Yeah, this is Sandra. It's ME, cleaning cupboard doors and wiping in difficult corners. I did this in the laundry/toilet last week and now I'm in the kitchen.

I'm CLEANING like a good person.

So what happens?

Not content with cleaning for my beloved family, I attempt to make nutritious and yummy after school food for when Fionn, now a big strapping and not sick boy who can walk home alone, turns up, ravenous for food and love from his newly competent mother.

I put spuds in to bake in preparation for making dinosaur eggs. I don't know that these spuds are not like any other spuds. These are organic red king spuds and they behave a little differently. Part way through, as I waltz past the kitchen carrying loads of washing to fold (this is ordinary, whereas cleaning cupboards most certainly is not), I smell burning.

Burning? Nothing left on inappropriately.


Oh dear. Of the five spuds I put in the oven, three have exploded. All through my oven which was cleaned not that long ago, maybe even only last month.



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