Well, it took us 1.5 hours to leave the house today, just for a quick soiree into town. By the time one was dressed the other needed feeding, then changing, then one started to fall asleep, cue 3 adults running round like headless chickens trying to get dressed / showered / washed in the meantime. I can only imagine that it looked like fast forward on a video. Once we got into town I needed to feed Charlotte, no mean feat in itself, as one of my ni****s is half hanging off. It means that every feed feels like I am putting my breast into the jaws of a great white, only to have it chewed off for 40 mins. This in itself is just about manageable, as I go to my happy place. Unfortunately, after the debacle of this am, I could not find my happy place. So I sat in a restaurant crying uncontrollably whilst my dahling daughter did her worst. I now need to find a new happy place. There are definately a dozen or so contenders for "Happy Placement", but all seem either stupidly materialistic and single minded (like a shoe store that had 6 thousand pairs of shoes), or involve only one member of my precious family. All seem to be competing for space, and I can only hope that whichever one becomes my happy place appears quicker than the Great White!
All the above aside, all going well.
Monday, 30 July 2007
Saturday, 28 July 2007
Charlottes Web
Pretty exciting week, spent 3 days in the hospital pre-birth, only mildly funny thing that happened was listening to Anthony Bourdain describe sumptious meal after meal on audio cd, then be presented with smash mash by the hospital. Besides, I should be greateful I got a meal. Poor Stu kept running between the house and the hospital keeping me well stocked with food and the latest Harry Potter book.
Now to business, Charlotte was born at 9:26 on Monday 23 July. The operation was a very relaxed affair and we managed a few giggles. Our anesthetist told us a story of a patient who claimed to be allergic to red fish, so Stuart and I kept on thinking about types of red fish. Charlotte was a little adverse to being pulled out from the cosiness of her lair, so she emphasised this by relieving herself inside me a final time, whilst being pulled out. She is absolutely gorgeous, but I am VERY biased. She is calm and feeding and sleeping really well (all the items that Cameron was, er, challenged at, shall we say!). She has cast a spell over all of us.
Spent 2 nights in hospital, all the staff were fantastic and she is now home. Sometimes I have to pinch myself that there is a newborn in the house, its just too quiet. Cameron has has some bouts of sibling rivalry but luckily Stuart and Mama are on hand to deal with it. I take my hat off to my Gran, aged 78, she not only has the stamina of 3 adults but the patience of a saint.
Apart from the obvious of having a gorgeous daughter and being very grateful she is finally here, I am really happy that I can at long last, see my toes!
Friday, 20 July 2007
Last days of being a host organ
Well, I am due in the hospital in an hour, so this will be my last blog as a host organ. It will be nice to see my feet again, it will be nice not to make turning over in bed seem like a military excersise. It will also be nice to fit into clothes that have a waist, are not marquee sized and will be nice to be able to cuddle / hug someone without the bump being in the way.
I should be packing right now, instead, after I sign off, the nesting instinct will drive me to extreme lengths to ensure the place is spick and span for my impending arrival. I woke up at 4:30 convinced the dishwasher had no salt or rinse aid. Wrong. Never mind, got to watch 2 episodes of Dr Who. David really is very yummy!
Ok, think thats all I have to say for myself. Ready or not, the hospital awaits!
I should be packing right now, instead, after I sign off, the nesting instinct will drive me to extreme lengths to ensure the place is spick and span for my impending arrival. I woke up at 4:30 convinced the dishwasher had no salt or rinse aid. Wrong. Never mind, got to watch 2 episodes of Dr Who. David really is very yummy!
Ok, think thats all I have to say for myself. Ready or not, the hospital awaits!
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Watermelon Woes
One of my summer rituals is to strip down to a bikini, go into the garden and consume a whole water melon. Picture this, me head in a watermelon eating the contents, spitting out the pips hilly billy style. Bikini clad (as its messy) and in the garden, as I wont have to clean up. This “summer” I have had to alter the plan slightly. For instance, I found it very hard to even lift the 4 kilo monster melon upto my mouth. Cue sitting on the sofa, cushions supporting the melon, trying to eat it with a fork and knife (can hardly spit the pips out in the living room can I?!!!).
Unfortunately half way through the phone goes, now have total empathy with a woodlouse, as I had arms flailing and feet thrashing to try and get off the sofa. By the time I got to the phone, it had rung off.
Back to the watermelon. Not only did it not taste good, I found myself craving the green outer skin. At that point, I decided to throw the melon. Now that I am writing about it, I find myself wondering if it went into the bin face up or down, and whether I have thrown anything else on top of it, just in case I start craving it.
Ah well, next year, I am going to be sans bump and I will not only purchase watermelon, but a large Cinzano and lemonade to go with it (classy eh?).
Cameron on top form over the last few days, went to buy the new pram yesterday. Needless to say he demolished the shop (a bit tricky to negotiate for a discount when he is wrecking the display items). Bought the pram. Does not even fit into Stuarts car. Hence he is currently looking for a car, as I write this.
The reality of two kids hit Stuart big style on Sunday. Beata, Robbie and the kids came over for Sunday lunch. Stuart was tasked with getting the nice wine glasses out from the drinks cabinet. It took him about 20 mins and taking the lords name in vain (which Mia ran round screaming), as when he was taking the glasses out Cameron and Mia decided to help themselves to the drinking straws. For every one he put back, they took 20 out. There were 200 straws, you do the math. Its very rare for Stuart to loose his patience, so when the words Jesus were unleashed, you knew it was fairly bad!
Sunday lunch was nice, and all the adults managed to relax on the patio as well. Unheard of when you have kids.
Unfortunately half way through the phone goes, now have total empathy with a woodlouse, as I had arms flailing and feet thrashing to try and get off the sofa. By the time I got to the phone, it had rung off.
Back to the watermelon. Not only did it not taste good, I found myself craving the green outer skin. At that point, I decided to throw the melon. Now that I am writing about it, I find myself wondering if it went into the bin face up or down, and whether I have thrown anything else on top of it, just in case I start craving it.
Ah well, next year, I am going to be sans bump and I will not only purchase watermelon, but a large Cinzano and lemonade to go with it (classy eh?).
Cameron on top form over the last few days, went to buy the new pram yesterday. Needless to say he demolished the shop (a bit tricky to negotiate for a discount when he is wrecking the display items). Bought the pram. Does not even fit into Stuarts car. Hence he is currently looking for a car, as I write this.
The reality of two kids hit Stuart big style on Sunday. Beata, Robbie and the kids came over for Sunday lunch. Stuart was tasked with getting the nice wine glasses out from the drinks cabinet. It took him about 20 mins and taking the lords name in vain (which Mia ran round screaming), as when he was taking the glasses out Cameron and Mia decided to help themselves to the drinking straws. For every one he put back, they took 20 out. There were 200 straws, you do the math. Its very rare for Stuart to loose his patience, so when the words Jesus were unleashed, you knew it was fairly bad!
Sunday lunch was nice, and all the adults managed to relax on the patio as well. Unheard of when you have kids.
Stack em high, sell em cheap!
There is a certain supermarket that I really dislike. Recently, I profess to dislike them about 200 times more. They have managed to dupe Stuart into buying 200 plastic balls for a fiver. Nothing wrong with that. Unless you are heavily pregnant and last saw your feet 5 months ago. Every step I take is a voyage of discovery underfoot, especially when Cam decided to empty out all the balls around the ground floor. Yesterday, the fear factor for my feet rose as I kept on stepping on plastic ball after ball. Poor household reverberated with the sounds of my mild swearing followed by a thud as I scraped ball off foot and threw it at the nearest wall. I think that by the time we actually inflate the ball pit (the mecca which all of these dammed balls are destined for) there wont be any left in tact. Same goes for my sanity.
The 200 balls would not have been a problem, if, the boy had decided not to test my agility by empyting all his toys onto the living room floor. And then sitting at the far end of the “toy massacre” wailing to be picked up. Who needs acupressure sandals when you can walk on oddly shaped coloured bricks, wicker baskets, fluffy sheep (ah that was comfy!), plastic knives and forks, a train set and a lot of other misshapen plastic toys?
The 200 balls would not have been a problem, if, the boy had decided not to test my agility by empyting all his toys onto the living room floor. And then sitting at the far end of the “toy massacre” wailing to be picked up. Who needs acupressure sandals when you can walk on oddly shaped coloured bricks, wicker baskets, fluffy sheep (ah that was comfy!), plastic knives and forks, a train set and a lot of other misshapen plastic toys?
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
Mr Muscle and Cracks in Sanity
I am trying to be calm. I am trying to locate the big black cloud above my head that makes me do the crazy things I have done. I blame the hormones.
The last few days have been a little stressy, I have had 1 rush trip to the hospital as I thought I was in premature labour. As it happened we turned up at shift change o’clock and were kept waiting in a birthing room for 45 mins before anyone came to even ask what the problem was. Meanwhile, I was surrounded by a seemingly rabid pack of howler monkeys. Oh how they howled! Next time I am on the labour ward I plan on taking my ear muffs. And a cd, as they supply each room with a cd player. “Jump Around” will be my music of choice!
Anyway, I digress. 3 hours and a lots of fuss and bother about nothing later, we are back home with a clean bill of health.
Cam has been a whingeing pomme all weekend. Also, we have an uninvited member of my family staying with us. Put it this way, I think I would rather lick the inside of a sewer rats toe, than be forced to spend any more time with this person.
On the up side, one of the many labourers working on our garden (if you can call it that at the mo) was Mark. Muscley Mark as I called him. He was also a fireman. Grrrr. Did I mention he was a fireman? Be still my beating heart. As I was tasked with taking lots of pictures of the project, I decided that Mark needed to feature in some all of the photos.
Today, I thought I would go into town. I thought I would take the opportunity to have a last nose around the shops. This was a great plan, until I enter each shop, then have the sudden urge to come home. Immediately. Then walk past another shop, cue coming home urge. By about shop number 5 I had enough of this game. Purchased a few bags of granulated sugar (builders go through an amazing amount of sugar. Where does it go?) and got on the bus.
Only, I got on the wrong bus. By which time I realised I was about a mile from home, in the wrong direction. Get off the bus. Decide to wait for next bus. Stand there for 5 mins, then realise I am on bus route which is one way. Decide to walk back to nearest bus stop heading my way. Whilst ambling along, realise I have no money to pay bus fare. Am faced with about a half mile walk up a hill. Curse myself for buying the sugar. Ran out of English curses, started on the Hungarian ones.
Takes me 45 mins to haul my body up the hill. In order to motivate myself for the next couple hundred yards, I would purchase some chocolate. As I write this, I have consumed the following: 1 bucket of Funzy’s candyfloss. Not bad, if a little dry. I pack of fizzy strawberry sweets. I bar dairy milk. I also had to purchase a National Enquirer, to make up £5, so I could use my debit card. I feel marginally better. I think I will replace the black cloud hanging over my head with pink fluffy popcorn.
The last few days have been a little stressy, I have had 1 rush trip to the hospital as I thought I was in premature labour. As it happened we turned up at shift change o’clock and were kept waiting in a birthing room for 45 mins before anyone came to even ask what the problem was. Meanwhile, I was surrounded by a seemingly rabid pack of howler monkeys. Oh how they howled! Next time I am on the labour ward I plan on taking my ear muffs. And a cd, as they supply each room with a cd player. “Jump Around” will be my music of choice!
Anyway, I digress. 3 hours and a lots of fuss and bother about nothing later, we are back home with a clean bill of health.
Cam has been a whingeing pomme all weekend. Also, we have an uninvited member of my family staying with us. Put it this way, I think I would rather lick the inside of a sewer rats toe, than be forced to spend any more time with this person.
On the up side, one of the many labourers working on our garden (if you can call it that at the mo) was Mark. Muscley Mark as I called him. He was also a fireman. Grrrr. Did I mention he was a fireman? Be still my beating heart. As I was tasked with taking lots of pictures of the project, I decided that Mark needed to feature in some all of the photos.
Today, I thought I would go into town. I thought I would take the opportunity to have a last nose around the shops. This was a great plan, until I enter each shop, then have the sudden urge to come home. Immediately. Then walk past another shop, cue coming home urge. By about shop number 5 I had enough of this game. Purchased a few bags of granulated sugar (builders go through an amazing amount of sugar. Where does it go?) and got on the bus.
Only, I got on the wrong bus. By which time I realised I was about a mile from home, in the wrong direction. Get off the bus. Decide to wait for next bus. Stand there for 5 mins, then realise I am on bus route which is one way. Decide to walk back to nearest bus stop heading my way. Whilst ambling along, realise I have no money to pay bus fare. Am faced with about a half mile walk up a hill. Curse myself for buying the sugar. Ran out of English curses, started on the Hungarian ones.
Takes me 45 mins to haul my body up the hill. In order to motivate myself for the next couple hundred yards, I would purchase some chocolate. As I write this, I have consumed the following: 1 bucket of Funzy’s candyfloss. Not bad, if a little dry. I pack of fizzy strawberry sweets. I bar dairy milk. I also had to purchase a National Enquirer, to make up £5, so I could use my debit card. I feel marginally better. I think I will replace the black cloud hanging over my head with pink fluffy popcorn.
Tales of Scary Mary and Titanic Resolve
Our friends Dion and Sue came down on Saturday to spend the weekend. As they are keen cider lovers we thought we could combine child friendly activity with cider and perry tasting, so we headed to Middle Farm.
Cameron was his usual madcap self, chasing after all the animals. When the boy was puffed out enough, we headed to taste the ciders…. Well, they did, I watched Cam. Unfortunately, he is unable to sit still in the pram for longer than 5 mins. To distract him we got him to look at Scary Mary – a ginger cat who was sleeping on a cider barrel. Under Scary Mary was the following warning “ Please note that Scary Mary is grumpy and has been known to eat small children”. To many people that would be a warning, to my boy it was a challenge. At first he was content stroking the poor creature, who appreciated the affection. However, quick as a flash, all you saw was fur flying and the sound of claws scraping on the barrel. There was also some spit. Cam had managed to grab SM by the scruff of the neck and pull her off the barrel, one handed. The other hand was reserved for the task of trying to pull tufts of hair out from the beleaguered feline! SM scarpered off, leaving only a few wisps of ginger fur trailing after her. All Cam could do was giggle. Stuart and I were laughing so much that there were tears in our eyes. People were coming out of the cider shop thinking we must have consumed a few too many!!!
Daniel and Kathryn joined us on Sunday morning. We headed down to Stanmer Park for the concert (Royal Philharmonic Orchestra) which, unfortunately was open air. I mention unfortunate as it was about 15 degrees and tipping it down. We were advised on the tickets and website that no umbrellas were allowed, so all of us were wearing only waterproof jackets. Deciding I would keep the rain at bay with trusted cheapo brand bin liners, I took them along thinking them my saviour. What I had not anticipated, is, that being cheapo ones, they were very short and did not cover my legs properly.
The concert started really well, not much rain, only a slight mizzle. It did not spoil any of the serene music. However, about 15 minutes into it, the heavens opened and it did not stop bucketing down for the rest of the 2 hour show. Despite the atrocious conditions, we all decided to stay and listen on, after all, you can only get drenched to the bone once! It was only during the main piece from Carmen (forget the pieces actual name) that I could actually picture the quartet on the deck of the Titanic, playing dulcet tones as the ship glided beneath the water. There is something about the British resolve, that makes such things possible. It has taken me some 28 years of living in this country to understand that. Brilliant.
We got home, whacked the heating up, all enjoyed some tea and moaned about the weather!
Cameron was his usual madcap self, chasing after all the animals. When the boy was puffed out enough, we headed to taste the ciders…. Well, they did, I watched Cam. Unfortunately, he is unable to sit still in the pram for longer than 5 mins. To distract him we got him to look at Scary Mary – a ginger cat who was sleeping on a cider barrel. Under Scary Mary was the following warning “ Please note that Scary Mary is grumpy and has been known to eat small children”. To many people that would be a warning, to my boy it was a challenge. At first he was content stroking the poor creature, who appreciated the affection. However, quick as a flash, all you saw was fur flying and the sound of claws scraping on the barrel. There was also some spit. Cam had managed to grab SM by the scruff of the neck and pull her off the barrel, one handed. The other hand was reserved for the task of trying to pull tufts of hair out from the beleaguered feline! SM scarpered off, leaving only a few wisps of ginger fur trailing after her. All Cam could do was giggle. Stuart and I were laughing so much that there were tears in our eyes. People were coming out of the cider shop thinking we must have consumed a few too many!!!
Daniel and Kathryn joined us on Sunday morning. We headed down to Stanmer Park for the concert (Royal Philharmonic Orchestra) which, unfortunately was open air. I mention unfortunate as it was about 15 degrees and tipping it down. We were advised on the tickets and website that no umbrellas were allowed, so all of us were wearing only waterproof jackets. Deciding I would keep the rain at bay with trusted cheapo brand bin liners, I took them along thinking them my saviour. What I had not anticipated, is, that being cheapo ones, they were very short and did not cover my legs properly.
The concert started really well, not much rain, only a slight mizzle. It did not spoil any of the serene music. However, about 15 minutes into it, the heavens opened and it did not stop bucketing down for the rest of the 2 hour show. Despite the atrocious conditions, we all decided to stay and listen on, after all, you can only get drenched to the bone once! It was only during the main piece from Carmen (forget the pieces actual name) that I could actually picture the quartet on the deck of the Titanic, playing dulcet tones as the ship glided beneath the water. There is something about the British resolve, that makes such things possible. It has taken me some 28 years of living in this country to understand that. Brilliant.
We got home, whacked the heating up, all enjoyed some tea and moaned about the weather!
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