Today we borrowed a car again - we are having a really bad run with public transport and we had a few appointments to make all in one go. Part of me is really looking forward to eventually owning a car again. Emotionally, I hate cars. I hate travelling in cars. I can't get over being totally freaked out by attempting to learn to drive cars. I don't WANT a car. But I'm very very sick of arguing with bus drivers and waiting in the cold for an hour for a bus that doesn't come and trying to make Morgan stay on a seat with no seatbelt. Etc.
Anyhow, off topic rant there! (Now you KNOW I'm really back...)
First we had to drop the cat at the vets. She wasn't impressed. She's even less impressed now that she's back with stitches and a silly lampshade thingy. (By the way, she didn't have an accident or anything, we've just prevented the kitten question coming into play since we dare not yet leave her to the mercy of the neighbourhood Toms.)
Then off to the hospital to see the diabetic nurse. No, I have not managed to go through a glucose tollerance test. We didn't even try this time. This time I have to take some readings myself over the next couple of weeks before and after eating. I'm willing to submit to this on the basis that blood tests don't stress me out, aren't doing the baby any harm, and keep the midwives off my back about my Dad being insulin dependant. ;)
My first reading (before eating junk food for lunch) was 4.1 - my second, two hours afterwards, was 5.3. For those who like the geektrivia about such things. Apparently it's OK if it goes up to 8 after having eating (8!) but nope, my body deals with matters much faster than that. I don't think they're going to get any wierd readings out of me after two sets of the most normal readings known to mankind in spite of having broken ALL the dietry rules.
We came home via Ikea. I say via, it's actually a bit out of the way, but we really really needed to buy some dinner plates and the word Sale loomed large. We got the plates. And also a gorgeous wooden easel for the children. :)
As we pulled up at home Jenna asked if she could open her "weasel". We said yes, but after a short giggle, pointed out that it's actually an easel, and a weasel is something different. Visibly disappointed, Jenna said, "Oh. Oh well. Can I still draw on it if it's not a weasel?"
This makes me smile so much I just know that it has undergone an automatic name change. The children are currently having another happy drawing session before bed, occasionally inspecting each others' work on the other side of the weasel.