Monday, 24 January 2011

Back to work I go

Saw my boss today about starting back to work next week. I'm driving myself mad at home alone and am feeling much better than I have these past 4 months. It's probably too soon to be so optimistic, but I literally am too bored of my house.
I'll be finishing at 230pm each day next week then back into full time after that, with a weeks annual leave after 3 weeks. I'll need the week off by then I expect!

On a random aside I'm watching a film where they're baking chocolate croissants and I can SMELL them I want one so much...yuuuuummmmmmm.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Birth envy

The TV series 'One Born Every Minute' is back on air again. I don't know why I like to watch it as every week I end up crying, mostly happy tears though, and end up with a feeling of general unhappiness. I know this is because each episode there is at least one example of a perfect birth. This makes me jealous, because my planned water birth all went to pot and I ended up having Poppy via a traumatic intervention. In this week's show there was a 22 year old who had her child in the birthing pool, using only gas and air, all very calm and natural and controlled. That's the experience I wanted. I was even in the damn pool for bloody ages.
I wonder if I'll ever get over this and just accept what will be, will be. That I wasn't destined to have Poppy in that way and in no way was it my fault or anything that I did or didn't do. That's the logical reasoning and what everyone tells me, but I still don't really accept it. Last week there was a woman who screamed the ward down, didn't push properly as she was making so much noise, and the midwives still told her she did a good job. If they can tell her that, thinking back to hearing those words from my midwife makes me think that they say that to everyone and it doesn't actually mean anything.

Saturday, 15 January 2011

26ⁿ Prompt 1 - The Names of Things

I haven't written anything except the usual letters, emails and blog posts since leaving GCSE English class. I thought I'd give it a try after seeing a fellow blogger starting a writing prompt blog here.

Here I sit on my brown leather sofa
Looking with fresh eyes around my quiet sitting room
Photographs on the walls, mantelpiece, windowsill
My wedding day, my youthful face smiles back at me
Hair groomed and topped with a silver jewelled tiara
A necklace of borrowed creamy pearls

My daughter's toy keyboard, a garish plastic pink
Draws my gaze away from the reminiscing
Rounded edges to make it safe, white and black keys
Hours spent shouting 'Love you' into its microphone

Baby soft hair that is mussed up by sleep
Requires gentle brushing with hair conditioner sprayed on
Coconut scented, from its bottle with a pop-off cap
Bringing back memories of suntan lotion from my honeymoon

Will it get any better?

Today's ballet class was another bad experience. I did just type 'waste of time' but deleted it. It wasn't a complete waste as it passed a couple of hours driving and spending 35 minutes being cried at, climbed on, hit, and tantrum-ed too. The clinginess that has been a feature since the chicken pox manifested hugely today, with her refusing to let me sit down on the floor. I had to be standing with her in my arms. Which really hurts my back, hips, wrists and hands after anything more than 5 minutes. And resulted in a tantrum when I began to refuse due to the pain. Another mother there even asked sympathetically "Aw, is she tired? Or just doesn't want to do it?" To which I snapped back (poor woman getting in the midst of me battling with my demon child) "No, she's like this all the time!" I think she got the general idea of my mood and didn't speak to me again.
By the time I got back to the car, after yet another tantrum when she wouldn't hold my hand near the road and therefore had to carried kicking and screaming, I breathed a sigh of relief and shed a few tears. I no longer care what other people think of me, Poppy, or my (in)ability to parent her. That's not what gets me down, riles me, frustrates me, brings tears to my eyes and a heaviness to my heart. It's how everyone else's child acts normally. Even if they are a little shy or don't want to join in, they sit quietly on a lap or outside the circle. They don't scream at or hit their parent for sitting down, throw a maraca across the floor then have a hissy fit when an innnocent toddler picks it up for a little shake, shout "no, no, no, no...etc" over and over again when their parent is dancing and joining in with the fun and music.

Is there any point in carrying on? Who am I doing this for, her or me? Or us?

Will it get any better?

Friday, 14 January 2011

Future gymnast? I think not.

I took Poppy to her first toddlers gymnastic class yesterday. We went with two of my friends and their sons, which was the first time we'd managed to meet up since well before Christmas. After arriving super-early due to me forgetting exactly what time the class started, Poppy grumpily woke up and refused to be put down until about 15 minutes into the class, not even being tempted by the free-play time allowed at the beginning to get them used to the space and equipment. Thankfully she finally woke up (after me giving in to the whining/building to a tantrum and gave her a dummy) and joined in. Once she got started she was away to go, climbing the little ladder thingie, hanging on a bar, hauling herself up onto soft blocks and joining one of her little friends rolling about on the big squishy mat. There was time for songs and actions, marching, star jumps, skipping, and parachute play at the end. All in all it was good fun, and I'm sure next week when we walk into the room she'll remember where she is and join straight in. At least I hope so, last night and today I'm so stiff and painful from carrying her about and crawling on the floor. Ouch.
After being asked by various family members if she is to be a future Olympic gymnast, I answered a resounding 'No'. Delicate and light on her feet are not ways I would describe my daughter...And based on the genes she inherited from me - unable to do a handstand for fear of falling over, hated gym at school - and her father - can't lift his leg above knee height, two left feet - she never had much of a chance.

And we have ballet class in the morning - lessons learned from last week are:
1. Feed her breakfast number 2 (toast normally given at about 8am, after breakfast number one on waking at stupid o'clock) later in the morning so that she doesn't require biscuits during the class,
2. Go into waiting room just before 11am so that she doesn't get too ingrossed the the toys there and refuse to enter the room where the actual ballet class is,
3. Don't put a hat on her and only a lightweight jacket, in case she refuses to remove said garments at the start of the class and therefore looks very odd and overheated throughout.

Who knew being a parent would involve such planning? Never mind ensuring the nappy bag is packed, the whole morning has to be considered so that a 30 minute class will hopefully go to plan!

Thursday, 6 January 2011

New York baby...

Only 314 (ish) days until myself and hubby go to New York for our joint 30th birthdays. I say -ish as it's not booked yet for us to know the departure date, but this week the brochure has finally been released so we've chosen our hotel. And know which flight time we want. Have planned the itinerary. Decided we don't really need the Virgin executive lounge after all. Can you tell we're excited about this trip?

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

Happy New Year, bring on 2011

Happy New Year to everybody! Hope you all had a fantastic Christmas break and aren't too miserable now January is here. Poppy has only just gone back to nursery today after contracting chicken pox, so it hasn't been a very restful time for me and my arthritis but I've managed.

I could have cried after a visit to the GP this morning with her to look at an itchy rash that sprang up yesterday afternoon on her body, when he diagnosed infection of said chicken pox and printed a script for antibiotics. In our world, antibiotics=two days off nursery. She'd only been back an hour. I heaved a massive sigh, took her home, and rang the nursery to say she wouldn't be back today. After speaking to the manager, she said actually as it's only a skin rash it'd be ok for her to come in. So after giving her lunch, putting her back into the car yet again, and taking her back to nursery the same manager then changed her mind and wanted GP confirmation she wasn't infectious. Now I can understand it, they've had the chicken pox going around and around there for months with some adults even catching it from the kids. But why not say that on the phone before I dragged our asses back down there again? Another huge sigh. After waiting on the phone to the surgery for 10 minutes I thankfully spoke to the receptionist I know, who spoke to a GP, and relayed back to me that a secondary infection of chicken pox is not infectious. Phew. She could stay.

On arriving home and logging into Blogger, I could see that one of the people I follow on here has had some awful news. There isn't any detail on her blog as it's obviously too painful to think about, let alone put into words, but basically she has given birth to her baby who has died. This was so shocking to me that I didn't understand at first what she had written. And it made me so thankful that I have a healthy and happy child, so full of energy and joy for life that it could make you cry.