The art of a (young) lady
During the course of my 13 years with Stuart, I have learned (ney, trained him) to obey, without me having to say a word. Cue “Gollum” – this is a facial expression that I have mastered. You basically ensure you have your eyes as wide as possible, drop jaw, tilt head and flutter eyelashes. Works a treat, normally when I want him to do a minor favour – e.g cup of coffee, change Cameron’s nappy, go to shop and buy chocolate.
In more extreme cases, the “Sumo Wrestler” can be used, often reserved for more pressing matters, when you cannot even be arsed arguing. This involves puffing out chest, hands on hips, twitching nose so that the corner of ones mouth is raised, narrow eyes and purse mouth. I normally reserve Sumo wrestler for occasions whereby the Gollum has not worked.
Every woman has her box of tricks, and it always evolves and becomes more efficient. In the not so distant past, I would have employed the use of a mini skirt, lashing of lip gloss and some racy undergarments. Now that everything is heading south (and I am heavily pregnant) I have to resort to more Machiavellian ways of ensuring the outcome I would like.
Imagine my surprise yesterday, when, I did not have to employ any of above “situational management tactics”. We singled out a car at a local garage. All the way there I mentally totting up how many Gollums and Sumo Wrestlers it would take before he cracked. Not only did Stuart like the initial car we singled out, BUT, he actually preferred and fell in love with a model that was way beyond the budget and he was actually thinking of buying it. I was completely lost for words. Dear reader, if there is a parallel universe, then surely I had jumped there!!!!
Thursday, 21 June 2007
I had a 3 D lesson in English Grammer the other day when I visited my consultant. The lesson was the difference between Sympathy and Empathy. The consultant advised that he would do the c- section at 37 weeks. This is Saturday 21 July. Understandibly they cannot schedule it in for that day. They could have therefore scheduled it for Monday 23t. Unfortunately, I was advised, this is impossible, as he does not work that day. Therefore, I have to spend an extra day languishing around in hospital, until the Tuesday.
When I was pregnant with Cameron I spent 8 nights in the hospital prior to having him, which was like pulling teeth, but I got on with it. I am faced with a similar situation. This time, I am in excruciating pain (trust me, I have a high tolerance for pain, but this is ridiculous). I am averageing only a couple of hours uninterrupted sleep a night, I can only sleep in two positions. One means that the baby’s head is against my ribs and I can hardly breathe. The other position means that my arms go dead after an hour and I wake up with severe pins and needles. During the day I am lucky if I can manage 15 minutes sitting down in the same position, plus I have a toddler to run round after! I think the only reason I am managing to sleep is down to sheer physical and mental exhaustion at the end of each day. Believe me, its hard to stay positive when you are this uncomfortable!
Therefore, I want the operation as soon as possible, on Monday 23 July.
The difference between sympathy and empathy? I think empathy is being able to do something about it and actually doing it.
Hence, tomorrow, I am seeing a new consultant, and I will have a chat to her about my feelings. After all, if I was a patient who was suffering from a painful disease and they could give me a cure a day earlier, I assume they would. But because I am “only” pregnant I “can muster an extra day”.
If they wont move the day of the operation, there is nothing I can do but to tough it out. However, I will never believe the NHS woes that it is being run by administrators, not allowing the professionals to get on with their job. Nor will I have any sympathy or understanding when budget cuts are claimed as the reason for lack of resources. Quite clearly the NHS can afford to keep me in a private room for an extra day!! Nor will I be letting any students near me (something I was more that happy to oblige last time) so they can learn from my unusual case. Anyway, enough of the soap box. There are people out there with worse things happening to them.
When I was pregnant with Cameron I spent 8 nights in the hospital prior to having him, which was like pulling teeth, but I got on with it. I am faced with a similar situation. This time, I am in excruciating pain (trust me, I have a high tolerance for pain, but this is ridiculous). I am averageing only a couple of hours uninterrupted sleep a night, I can only sleep in two positions. One means that the baby’s head is against my ribs and I can hardly breathe. The other position means that my arms go dead after an hour and I wake up with severe pins and needles. During the day I am lucky if I can manage 15 minutes sitting down in the same position, plus I have a toddler to run round after! I think the only reason I am managing to sleep is down to sheer physical and mental exhaustion at the end of each day. Believe me, its hard to stay positive when you are this uncomfortable!
Therefore, I want the operation as soon as possible, on Monday 23 July.
The difference between sympathy and empathy? I think empathy is being able to do something about it and actually doing it.
Hence, tomorrow, I am seeing a new consultant, and I will have a chat to her about my feelings. After all, if I was a patient who was suffering from a painful disease and they could give me a cure a day earlier, I assume they would. But because I am “only” pregnant I “can muster an extra day”.
If they wont move the day of the operation, there is nothing I can do but to tough it out. However, I will never believe the NHS woes that it is being run by administrators, not allowing the professionals to get on with their job. Nor will I have any sympathy or understanding when budget cuts are claimed as the reason for lack of resources. Quite clearly the NHS can afford to keep me in a private room for an extra day!! Nor will I be letting any students near me (something I was more that happy to oblige last time) so they can learn from my unusual case. Anyway, enough of the soap box. There are people out there with worse things happening to them.
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
Juneilicious
Sometimes I feel like I am detached from reality. This is no bad thing given the events of the last 3 days. Dear reader, if my blog was ever to amble down the road of becoming a self pityfest, then herein starts the slide…
Friday, Cameron woke up screaming and covered in vomit. Did the best I could to clean him up and console him. Whole of the downstairs reeked of vomit. Nice. The boy then proceeded to projectile vomit all his milk up. The carpet smelt worse that a wet dead dog (trust me, I have been there and it’s not pleasant). We repeated this pattern for the next 10 hours. I then went and met Beata and Erika for my surprise birthday event, we went to the Dome to see Alan Toullon and the New Orleans Restoration Jazz band. Both were excellent and I had a brilliant time. Dropped Erika back home and had a bit of a gossip in the car afterwards.
Saturday was supposed to be Amy and Marks stag / hen do fest, unfortunately no tickets available. We went car hunting instead. Could not go for long as boy still a one man vomit fest machine. No joy in bagging a car, have hopefully settled on the idea of a sedate estate!
Sunday was my birthday, had about 3 hours sleep, unfortunately not due to clubbing or calls to the big white elephant, unfortunately due to expanding baby, raging hormones, severe back ache. Got up with Cameron, his opening birthday present was the intriguing challenge of trying to clean up 3D sick from the inside of a wicker basket. In case you are ever faced with such a situation, I recommend my approach: try mopping up the “gloop” in between the wicker first. Then, gently remove part digested milk and brioche pieces with your favourite MAC tweasers. Curse life. Get tweasers caught in wicker basket. Retrieve tweasers whilst cursing loudly in two languages. Throw wicker basket out into the garden. Pray tweasers don’t rust. Regain composure. Check watch and debate whether 8am is too early for a glass of Rioja.
We had planned to go to East Sussex National Golf course and have lunch with Stu having a round of golf. Me and Cam were supposed to be in the spa. Due to illness this was cancelled.
As I had eagerly anticipated eating out, we had no food in the house. Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out, who says Quorn meatballs, rice and asparagus isn’t a gourmet treat? (Well, the carpet actually, when Cameron threw it all up!) I even found an out of date packet of meatball sauce from Ikea. It was only 6 months out of date. I figured Cam was already sick so, had no qualms serving it up. Stuart tried scrubbing the carpets, some of the stench went, unfortunately as he scrubbed it with a blue cloth, we now have an area of the carpet that is blue.
Got some lovely presents, this is going to sound like the generation game: laptop bag, 3 DVD’s, watch, spa vouchers, art (of sorts!) (that’s a different story!), clothes vouchers. Call from LM and Myson to catch up on all the gossip. They had hangovers as they played pictionary the night before. Lucky things.
Stuart agreed to indulge my request to visit the new interior designer shop in town. Looked round grieving for all the shiny, clean, unbaby friendly items I would now never own. We picked up a brochure on Italian designer garden lights. There is a little masochistic streak in me that wants to buy designer lighting and see the worst that the English weather can throw at it.
Agreed to rip up the carpet in preparation for the sanding. Took all the pics off the walls downstairs and lugged it all upstairs. Rip up the carpet to inspect the floorboards. They looked in brilliant condition, you can even see the grain in the wood. Was a bit puffed out from all the effort, so sat down. As soon as I had placed my ample prosterior on the seat, doubt crept in. I could not face the idea of having the house in turmoil again. Made Stuart put the pics back and promise to order carpet.
Watched “Welcome to Collinwood” one of my top 5 movies, whist trying to ignore the pong of the carpet, the mild state of sea sickness induced by the pictures hanging wonkily on the wall and the sugar intoxication that only a giant bar of chocolate brings.
Okay, enough self pity. Normal service resumes tomorrow.
Sometimes I feel like I am detached from reality. This is no bad thing given the events of the last 3 days. Dear reader, if my blog was ever to amble down the road of becoming a self pityfest, then herein starts the slide…
Friday, Cameron woke up screaming and covered in vomit. Did the best I could to clean him up and console him. Whole of the downstairs reeked of vomit. Nice. The boy then proceeded to projectile vomit all his milk up. The carpet smelt worse that a wet dead dog (trust me, I have been there and it’s not pleasant). We repeated this pattern for the next 10 hours. I then went and met Beata and Erika for my surprise birthday event, we went to the Dome to see Alan Toullon and the New Orleans Restoration Jazz band. Both were excellent and I had a brilliant time. Dropped Erika back home and had a bit of a gossip in the car afterwards.
Saturday was supposed to be Amy and Marks stag / hen do fest, unfortunately no tickets available. We went car hunting instead. Could not go for long as boy still a one man vomit fest machine. No joy in bagging a car, have hopefully settled on the idea of a sedate estate!
Sunday was my birthday, had about 3 hours sleep, unfortunately not due to clubbing or calls to the big white elephant, unfortunately due to expanding baby, raging hormones, severe back ache. Got up with Cameron, his opening birthday present was the intriguing challenge of trying to clean up 3D sick from the inside of a wicker basket. In case you are ever faced with such a situation, I recommend my approach: try mopping up the “gloop” in between the wicker first. Then, gently remove part digested milk and brioche pieces with your favourite MAC tweasers. Curse life. Get tweasers caught in wicker basket. Retrieve tweasers whilst cursing loudly in two languages. Throw wicker basket out into the garden. Pray tweasers don’t rust. Regain composure. Check watch and debate whether 8am is too early for a glass of Rioja.
We had planned to go to East Sussex National Golf course and have lunch with Stu having a round of golf. Me and Cam were supposed to be in the spa. Due to illness this was cancelled.
As I had eagerly anticipated eating out, we had no food in the house. Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out, who says Quorn meatballs, rice and asparagus isn’t a gourmet treat? (Well, the carpet actually, when Cameron threw it all up!) I even found an out of date packet of meatball sauce from Ikea. It was only 6 months out of date. I figured Cam was already sick so, had no qualms serving it up. Stuart tried scrubbing the carpets, some of the stench went, unfortunately as he scrubbed it with a blue cloth, we now have an area of the carpet that is blue.
Got some lovely presents, this is going to sound like the generation game: laptop bag, 3 DVD’s, watch, spa vouchers, art (of sorts!) (that’s a different story!), clothes vouchers. Call from LM and Myson to catch up on all the gossip. They had hangovers as they played pictionary the night before. Lucky things.
Stuart agreed to indulge my request to visit the new interior designer shop in town. Looked round grieving for all the shiny, clean, unbaby friendly items I would now never own. We picked up a brochure on Italian designer garden lights. There is a little masochistic streak in me that wants to buy designer lighting and see the worst that the English weather can throw at it.
Agreed to rip up the carpet in preparation for the sanding. Took all the pics off the walls downstairs and lugged it all upstairs. Rip up the carpet to inspect the floorboards. They looked in brilliant condition, you can even see the grain in the wood. Was a bit puffed out from all the effort, so sat down. As soon as I had placed my ample prosterior on the seat, doubt crept in. I could not face the idea of having the house in turmoil again. Made Stuart put the pics back and promise to order carpet.
Watched “Welcome to Collinwood” one of my top 5 movies, whist trying to ignore the pong of the carpet, the mild state of sea sickness induced by the pictures hanging wonkily on the wall and the sugar intoxication that only a giant bar of chocolate brings.
Okay, enough self pity. Normal service resumes tomorrow.
Monday, 11 June 2007
Weekend 10 June
Summary of the last few days where I have not written. Thursday – Brad Pitt and Ed Norton came to do some surgeoning on our trees. They were the most gorgeous specimens of the male species I had seen in a long time. Imagine toned, tanned and tasteful tattooed. I think I must have blushed each time I handed them their refreshments. Egged Stuart on to take lots of photos “for our garden album” (ofcourse!!!). They really were lush, in actual fact I did look around for a can of diet coke.
Decided that sharing this information was the next best thing, so phoned up Beata and tried to ascertain whether she needed any hedges trimmed in the new garden. Alas, no, so, I am destined only to see them again when we buy our next property. Mental note, buy a jungle!!!! I was so besotted with the boys that when I should have been telling them off for dropping a branch onto our neighbours roof and denting it, all I could do was offer them more tea and biscuits.
PN has been moaning about the fact that they have had to clear off ash from their kids slide, as Stuart has been burning bonfires for the last two evenings. She does not in the least bit seem grateful that thanks to Ed and Brad she has half her garden back.
Book club was good giggle on Thursday, good company and great food.
Friday was mainly spent in the garden. Cameron in foul mood so dragged him shopping. Everything for girls in Hennes is pink, dunno what I am going to do. Arrgh!
Saturday – went to Sussex Pad for lunch, really nice food and interesting menu, but we were the youngest in there, bringing the average age down to below 60! They were all glam pensioners though, would have to be as its not your average pub prices.
Had to cancel from going to Ardingly with Beata, as we had to go car hunting. Stuart looked whilst I chased Cameron around dodging in between cars. At one stage we had to shut him in a people carrier just so we could look around. Several show rooms later we quite fell in love with a 7 seater (don’t ask me the name, it’s the size of a small island and will need its own petrol station). On the plus side it has a dvd player with wireless speakers. Now need to figure out why we need a 7 seater!
Stuart has become a piromanic since having the task of burning the tree trimmings. Has taken two evenings of burning from 7pm – 11pm in order to get rid of most of it. I think we are having a last bonfire this evening to get rid of his confidential rubbish and some small leaves. Very thereputic sitting round a toasty fire just chatting, star gazing and enjoying a drink. Even feeling grossely uncomfortable from the bump, I struggle to think of a happier evening in recent times.
Now have to face upto the reality that its my last week at work. Incredibly daunting as, in precisely 7 weeks I will be a parent to two.
Have some nice evenings and days planned, am seeing Erika, Eva and we also have Amy and Marks joint hen and stag. Daniel, Kathryn, Sue and Dion may also be popping down.
Not much else going on, saw two hedgehogs whilst during our camp fire thing last night.
Summary of the last few days where I have not written. Thursday – Brad Pitt and Ed Norton came to do some surgeoning on our trees. They were the most gorgeous specimens of the male species I had seen in a long time. Imagine toned, tanned and tasteful tattooed. I think I must have blushed each time I handed them their refreshments. Egged Stuart on to take lots of photos “for our garden album” (ofcourse!!!). They really were lush, in actual fact I did look around for a can of diet coke.
Decided that sharing this information was the next best thing, so phoned up Beata and tried to ascertain whether she needed any hedges trimmed in the new garden. Alas, no, so, I am destined only to see them again when we buy our next property. Mental note, buy a jungle!!!! I was so besotted with the boys that when I should have been telling them off for dropping a branch onto our neighbours roof and denting it, all I could do was offer them more tea and biscuits.
PN has been moaning about the fact that they have had to clear off ash from their kids slide, as Stuart has been burning bonfires for the last two evenings. She does not in the least bit seem grateful that thanks to Ed and Brad she has half her garden back.
Book club was good giggle on Thursday, good company and great food.
Friday was mainly spent in the garden. Cameron in foul mood so dragged him shopping. Everything for girls in Hennes is pink, dunno what I am going to do. Arrgh!
Saturday – went to Sussex Pad for lunch, really nice food and interesting menu, but we were the youngest in there, bringing the average age down to below 60! They were all glam pensioners though, would have to be as its not your average pub prices.
Had to cancel from going to Ardingly with Beata, as we had to go car hunting. Stuart looked whilst I chased Cameron around dodging in between cars. At one stage we had to shut him in a people carrier just so we could look around. Several show rooms later we quite fell in love with a 7 seater (don’t ask me the name, it’s the size of a small island and will need its own petrol station). On the plus side it has a dvd player with wireless speakers. Now need to figure out why we need a 7 seater!
Stuart has become a piromanic since having the task of burning the tree trimmings. Has taken two evenings of burning from 7pm – 11pm in order to get rid of most of it. I think we are having a last bonfire this evening to get rid of his confidential rubbish and some small leaves. Very thereputic sitting round a toasty fire just chatting, star gazing and enjoying a drink. Even feeling grossely uncomfortable from the bump, I struggle to think of a happier evening in recent times.
Now have to face upto the reality that its my last week at work. Incredibly daunting as, in precisely 7 weeks I will be a parent to two.
Have some nice evenings and days planned, am seeing Erika, Eva and we also have Amy and Marks joint hen and stag. Daniel, Kathryn, Sue and Dion may also be popping down.
Not much else going on, saw two hedgehogs whilst during our camp fire thing last night.
Monday, 4 June 2007
Monday June 4th
Client meeting in London today, went really well, even got a hug from the client.
Really got a buzz from organising the rest of the project. Got back to Brighton, went for a Curry with Allen and Stuart. Came back, Allen fixed PC (two weeks ago it would not even turn on, Allen got it working in 5 mins!).
Chocolate cravings hit so we decided to go to the Cash and Carry. Spent a small fortune on Chocolate, Crisps and Sweets. Am now confident that there are enough calories in the house to see me through until Jnr is here, either that or ensure type 2 diabeties!
PN had a bit of a go today, have decided that she is definitely off the Crimbo card list and am now not really going to be spending any time listening to any of her moaning.
Have started storing books and mags for my impending hospital confinement (3rd week in July). Have to ensure that I get a copy of the new Harry Potter book to take in with me. Doubtless it will be a few months before I can finish it!
Client meeting in London today, went really well, even got a hug from the client.
Really got a buzz from organising the rest of the project. Got back to Brighton, went for a Curry with Allen and Stuart. Came back, Allen fixed PC (two weeks ago it would not even turn on, Allen got it working in 5 mins!).
Chocolate cravings hit so we decided to go to the Cash and Carry. Spent a small fortune on Chocolate, Crisps and Sweets. Am now confident that there are enough calories in the house to see me through until Jnr is here, either that or ensure type 2 diabeties!
PN had a bit of a go today, have decided that she is definitely off the Crimbo card list and am now not really going to be spending any time listening to any of her moaning.
Have started storing books and mags for my impending hospital confinement (3rd week in July). Have to ensure that I get a copy of the new Harry Potter book to take in with me. Doubtless it will be a few months before I can finish it!
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Hmmm, I think the pregnancy hormones have ramped up a bit. I can no longer remember the simplest thing. For instance, in the 2 seconds that it took me to reach the tissues, I forgot the purpose of the journey (wipe Cameron’s nose!). I feel like the only child in the class who does not know the answer to the question and is desperately looking round for support or at least the mere hint at the answer.
My feet look like something out of an alien horror movie, ankles swollen to the size of a small principality. Do you remember Tom’s owner from Tom and Jerry cartoons? All you ever saw of her were her “sturdy” ankles and slippers. Add a waddle, and that’s me. Big Momma!
Have found it extremely hard to keep mobile this weekend, despite this managed a two mile walk in Stanmer park. We had a picnic there on Saturday and in an apparent post ice-cream brain freeze, I agreed to do our usual walk. At one point it was sorely tempting to swap places with Cameron in the pram. Unfortunately, I would not have fitted, as, my arse has reached epic proportions!
Today we have been busy in the garden, Stuart chopping our hedges back and mowing the lawn, Cameron doing kamakazee runs down the garden.
Am now half way through my book “Interpretation of Murder” but have forgotten the who the characters actually are. Have to remedy it by writing all the characters names on a post it note together with a brief synopsys… sounds a bit like homework.
I have made a list of the projects we have to organise / finalise before Jnr makes an appearance:
Start garden project 28 June
Change double glazing throughout house
Get floors polished (will involve 2 days of misery).
Get pram
Clear out eaves and attic
Clear out garage
Not a lot really…..in only 6 weeks.
Finish work next week, going to be a huge shock to my system.
Am up in London tomorrow handing a client over, client not too far from the Tate Modern….may have to take a peek.
Am desperately craving a martini and lemonade, problem is that we have neither in the house. Stuart has eaten the last of the chocolate and ice-cream and Sainsbury is now shut. Am strategising what I will need to do to get him to go to the local garage and buy a healthy buffer of chocolate and the largest pack of marshmallows known to man. I am hoping batting my eyelashes will be enough without having to play the pregnant woman card. I would even consider cooking chocolate if we had any at home! This tells me two things…one, I could never be on Big Brother as I would walk out after the first pangs of chocolate craving, secondly, I have no willpower and don’t ever stand a chance of gaining any.
Have just heard a news item about a Polish man who has awoken from a 19 year coma. When he had an accident and succumbed to the coma, hardline communism was in existence, people could not get passports to travel. Now it’s a different world out there and they are drip feeding him information.
I wonder if they could do a mini coma for pregnancy, e.g. the last 3 months are spent in suspended animation, and you wake up just as you go into labour or once the baby is out. That would be most civilised!
My feet look like something out of an alien horror movie, ankles swollen to the size of a small principality. Do you remember Tom’s owner from Tom and Jerry cartoons? All you ever saw of her were her “sturdy” ankles and slippers. Add a waddle, and that’s me. Big Momma!
Have found it extremely hard to keep mobile this weekend, despite this managed a two mile walk in Stanmer park. We had a picnic there on Saturday and in an apparent post ice-cream brain freeze, I agreed to do our usual walk. At one point it was sorely tempting to swap places with Cameron in the pram. Unfortunately, I would not have fitted, as, my arse has reached epic proportions!
Today we have been busy in the garden, Stuart chopping our hedges back and mowing the lawn, Cameron doing kamakazee runs down the garden.
Am now half way through my book “Interpretation of Murder” but have forgotten the who the characters actually are. Have to remedy it by writing all the characters names on a post it note together with a brief synopsys… sounds a bit like homework.
I have made a list of the projects we have to organise / finalise before Jnr makes an appearance:
Start garden project 28 June
Change double glazing throughout house
Get floors polished (will involve 2 days of misery).
Get pram
Clear out eaves and attic
Clear out garage
Not a lot really…..in only 6 weeks.
Finish work next week, going to be a huge shock to my system.
Am up in London tomorrow handing a client over, client not too far from the Tate Modern….may have to take a peek.
Am desperately craving a martini and lemonade, problem is that we have neither in the house. Stuart has eaten the last of the chocolate and ice-cream and Sainsbury is now shut. Am strategising what I will need to do to get him to go to the local garage and buy a healthy buffer of chocolate and the largest pack of marshmallows known to man. I am hoping batting my eyelashes will be enough without having to play the pregnant woman card. I would even consider cooking chocolate if we had any at home! This tells me two things…one, I could never be on Big Brother as I would walk out after the first pangs of chocolate craving, secondly, I have no willpower and don’t ever stand a chance of gaining any.
Have just heard a news item about a Polish man who has awoken from a 19 year coma. When he had an accident and succumbed to the coma, hardline communism was in existence, people could not get passports to travel. Now it’s a different world out there and they are drip feeding him information.
I wonder if they could do a mini coma for pregnancy, e.g. the last 3 months are spent in suspended animation, and you wake up just as you go into labour or once the baby is out. That would be most civilised!
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