Delay, now extra prolonged!
For the past 2 weeks I've been watching my mail box for a pack of prescriptions to arrive from my clinic. Thinking I'd need my meds in about 2 weeks time, I called them this morning to figure out what was going on. The nice lady on the phone was kind enough to figure it out for me. The prescriptions are in the mail, so far the good news. The bad news is that I hadn't been booked in yet by my RE, and the first available slot is in October. The reason is simple, he's on holiday.
I wouldn't have expected him to book me in, only he instructed me to leave a message on his answering machine on CD1, leading me to believe it would be taken care of ... silly me.
I'm not happy with the new delay. Actually, I'm pretty angry with it. It's symptomatic for everything I loathe about IF. The waiting, the dependence on other people, the trouble planning anything, ...
The baby boom all around me isn't helping my peace of mind any.
Really, I'd like to stamp my feet and scream very loudly, like a disgruntled 2yo. Obviously, I should get some perspective. But can it wait until tomorrow?
Linnea, meanwhile, is talking a lot, even making small sentences. Often we still need to guess what she's saying, but when we get it right she laughs excitedly.
She seems to learn new skills overnight. One day she was just puzzled by her shape sorter, the next she was shoving in the shapes like it was routine. The same for jig-saws.
Reading books is still a favorite activity, though only if she gets to do the reading. I've tried reading her a short, short story just before bed, but she's not interested (which is natural at her age).
Linnea isn't overly cautious. She loves to climb on stuff, without any regard for how hard the underground beneath is. I frequently hold my breath while I watch her climb the sofa, her chair, our bed, the stairs ...
And why stick to the baby slide, if you can wizz down the big exciting tube slide?
I want so badly to keep her safe from harm, I have to fight the urge to be absurdly overprotective. Her being our only child, makes that urge all the harder to fight.
I suppose if I'd have two, I'd feel the same way twice. But for now, all my eggs are in one basket.