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Ummmmmm,
so, this is very weird. Writing here. I had to think about how
I created new directories for the site. I couldn't remember what
my last entry was about. I pushed this journal away over the past
couple of months — not because I've wanted to, but because
I've had to. Literally every spare moment has been spent working.
Getting to bed at midnight has tended to be an early night. One
night I worked straight through (except for a 1 hour sleep), and
then went to work in the morning. I've just had a tunnel vision
about getting this work done. Not good in lots of ways, but the
only way.
And
I'm nearly there. I'm taking a break tonight. I'm drinking some
red wine. I'll be in bed at a reasonable hour. I can see some
light at the end of the tunnel.
What
have I been doing? One site is http://www.smf.govt.nz That was
the first one. There's another, small, site that's almost ready
to go live. But the real killer has been a big (for me) e-commerce
employment site. It's due to be launched next week, so I'll give
you the address then, but, my god, it's been an exhausting process.
I've worked in partnership with another guy who's done the programming
and backend/database stuff. Actually, I should say we've worked
in partnership. Deb has done at least half of the work. Last weekend,
both days, one of us was working on the site from about 10am till
midnight.
And
of course all this has been on top of a full time job, where,
at times, I've felt like a zombie. My whole life seems to have
revolved around creating websites. Arrrrrrghhhhhhhhhh.
Anyway
… that's not really what I wanted to write about. I just
wanted to kind of explain why I haven't written. I just haven't
had the energy or the time. Not good.
But
I do tonight. I really have missed this journal. Every day I've
checked my stats to see if anyone visits. And yes, I've really
appreciated those four people who've come each day! I've snatched
pieces of other people's journals. I've wanted to write. So many
things. And I don't want this to happen again. This journal is
something. My writing is something. Talking with you is something.
Not to be given up lightly.
So
…
One
of the games we play with Matthew is Mr Passenger and Mr Driver.
You see the couch is a bus/car/occasional aeroplane. Matthew,
of course, is Mr Driver. “Mr Passenger”, he'll say.
“Yes, Mr Driver?”, I'll answer. “Climb on bus!”,
and I'll have to sit up on the couch behind him while he drives
us. To Nana's house, to the zoo, shopping. We'll drive for a bit,
then, “Need five tickets Mr Passenger” he'll say and
get off the bus to walk across the room and collect five tickets.
He'll give them to me and commence the drive again. Over, and
over, and over again!
He's
got a new friend. A Miss Honey. We're not quite sure where she
lives — could be around the corner, could be at the neighbours
house, could be across the road — but she's around. She has
her own car, often seen on the road ahead of our bus. We all talk
with her on the phone of course. She's Matthew's friend. Personally
I'm jealous! My imaginary friends were called Boo-Boo and Ju-aa.
What's with that? I would have killed to have a babe like Miss
Honey as my friend at Matthew's age.
At
his caregiver's there's another toddler called Casey who stays
there. Casey's about the same age as Matthew. They've just recently
realised they're good friends. So many mornings when we drop Matthew
off there, they'll look at each, then open there arms and give
each other a big hug. Sonia (Matthew's caregiver) says that during
the day if Matthew gets scared by anything, he'll look at Casey
and say in a tremulous (ok, ok, tremulous is my word, not hers!)
voice, “Hugs, hugs” and go and get a hug from Casey.
Deb
and I are really good. Well, as good as you can be on a serious
lack of sleep and quality time together. I remember we made love
last weekend, in the afternoon, with the warm sun streaming through
the window as we pulled the futon off the couch and stripped and
lay there touching and laughing and loving. Too rare a moment
lately, too rare a moment.
I
just kissed Deb a toothpaste kiss. It was sweet.
Ah
hell, life is good, and red wine is good and I don't ever want
to stop writing in some form or other, and for all the hard work
involved being in a family is so cool, like tonight we went, me
and Matthew, down to buy pizza and wine, and he held my hand and
called me Daddy and that is just irreplaceable, and, you know,
I actually like what I'm doing as a job and I feel like I'm healed.
The words keep babbling out I know, but it does feel so good to
write in here again, and, while I remember, I just want to say
… ah, I dunno … thank you I guess to people who read
this and who link to my journal. It feels good and it means more
than I usually say.
I'll
be writing again soon …
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