Our Little Boy

Our little bean was 26 weeks yesterday - due on 21st July. Here he is in his scan today!

April 09

 

 

 

So we've been left (sic/northern term?) a month and I still feel saddish.

I'll write more as soon as we're sorted but here are some pics of Bella enjoying England for now.

You learn a new thing everyday

Actually I learn more than one new thing every day.

Yesterday it was 2:

1. I realised (similar to 'learnt'...) just what a tremendously huge responsibility being a mother is. For 21 months it's been sugar and spice. It's still sugar and spice, just with a large filling of 'This baby's emotional, social, moral, educational and financial future (and probably lots more) is in MY hands'. Mine I tell you.

2 (Unrelated to number 1.). I learnt how to silent scream. It's almost as much of a release as a non-silent one. Almost.

Oh Fucking Yawn

So, not only have R's company decided that they've changed their minds about investing in China, leaving us high and dry after only a year of the predicted 4 years, when they could have, in a very un-Chilean fashion admittedly, made their minds up a year prior to moving us all to the other side of the world when Rodrigo had a stable job with which to pay the bills (even if I did loathe Chile and am glad we came here even if it was only for a year, it's the principle, know what I mean?).

Yes, well, not only did they fuck around with someone's career and family life at their idiotic whim, but they have now decided to fuck around with his pay-off, offering him half the money they legally have to.

So off to the tribunal he's going.

As if uprooting our whole life once again wasn't enough, we've now got a court battle on our hands that R will fight even if he gives all his winnings to the lawyers at the end of the day. His words, not mine be warned.

I am, I have to say, exceedingly proud of my husband, whose last day at work it is today, over how he's handled this whole situation. For the last 3 weeks there hasn't been one day where he's lay in bed mulling this shit over or in a state of inertia over how he's going to feed his family. He has been looking for jobs and opportunities ceaselessly from the moment they told him that they were done with him.

And now, in another very un-Chilean-like fashion, he is going to fight a big international Chilean company (hence making their meanness even meaner)for his rights.

Maybe only those who know Chile and the Chileans pretty well will understand how amazing this is - the Europeans and especially for the Americans reading this will be like 'er derrrr, of course you fight employers for your legal rights'. But the Chileans are generally paralysed by such fear over their jobs and over life itself, that taking the bosses on really is a pretty big thing. Chile is a non-litigious, employee-as-rightless-slave and company-as-god society. Nobody questions anything or anybody above them. They keep their heads down and work until 8 at night every night for a pittance so as to keep their jobs, whilst their bosses hold the figurative axe over their bent-doubled necks, safe in the knowledge that without this pitifully-paid job this pitiful employee has nothing. No benefits, no health insurance, no rent money, no food, no nothing. It is truly awful.

But my poor Chilean has a wife from a country of litigious angry fighters who will not let them fuck us even more than we're already fucked (although I now honestly feel totally convinced that this is the opportunity we've needed to do what we want with our lives, rather than feeling fucked. Again I'm talking about principles).

And I'm so proud of the way he's totally taken up his arms and will not be walked over like the piece of shit they all take their employees for in that country.

Hooray for my husband.

Trot On

If you go to a restaurant here and ask for the loo, it's inevitably upstairs and you'll inevitably be taken there personally and the waiter/ess will inevitably trot upstairs leaving you having to trot after them or, in my case, lumber after them, arriving at said loo inevitably out of breath and needing to sit on the seat, which, as my Mother always told me, you can never do.

Deliverance

If Bella sees Rodrigo speaking on the landline she says 'pizza coming'.

If I tell her the man's bringing Mummy's food she says 'salad coming'.

Exactly my darling, I tell her, shoving chocolate wrappers deeper into my pockets.


Talking of food delivery, Rodrigo, err-hum, we, ordered a pizza last night (after Boo was asleep so as to not ruin her dream of having a pure raw-food eating mother) and the pizza guy came, bringing us our pizza in one hand and an envelope addressed to me that my Mum had posted to me ages ago. Obviously not having the language skills to ask where the hell he found my package, R didn't ask. So we'll never know. Maybe they have been using Boo's star chart in their pizza kitchen....?

Confusedus

Confuscious may, in some people's eyes, have been a wise old bird, however there is one vital proverb that he negated to note down whilst toiling away at his lecturn.

"The journey not the arrival matters".

These six little words would, if put into practice here in Shanghai, undoubtedly save many accidents, many high-blood pressure treatments, a lot of uncivilised pushing and shoving and therefore, most importantly for the Chinese, a lot of face.

(Mind you, to give C his dues, it would be well over a thousand years later before that other, some might say, wise old bird T.S. Elliot came up with this droplet of wisdom that could well do with being implemented as of right bloody now in this country).