Posts Tagged ‘ffs’

friends I wont see again *rant alert*

September 22, 2010 Leave a comment

oh how things change, things we never intended to change, but change they have.

One friend who I love very much is dying in hospital. She’s an inspiration. At just 28 she has known for most of her life that it would be short, and that she wouldn’t be able to do many of the normal things we take for granted, like having kids or driving or having a career. She has cystic fybrosis. She has lived more in her 28 years than many do in 70, travelling, performing, studying.  She was recently placed on the lung donor list, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen in time for her. It’s terribly, horribly unfair.

On the other hand there’s an old friend who I left behind in Scotland. With his own flat, decent job, car and supportive family and friends, he seemed like he had it all. But for whatever reason he seems determined not to let it be so. He seems to thrive off of people’s sympathy, posting journals and facebook statuses aimed at making people ask if he is ok. He posted about how he was up at 7, which I joked was a lie in for us (Ivy likes 5am, no matter what I try to dissuade her) to which I got a snitty reply about how he’s having trouble sleeping. I feel for him, insomnia is horrid, but after nearly 10 years of doling out sympathy to someone who refuses to seek decent medical help, I refuse to offer more.  I appreciate too that he has got himself into a horrid situation, having lost his job through illness, and then the domino effect of losing his flat and car, these are terrible things. On the other hand he has hated his job since I met him in 2002, but he always refused to look for alternate employment or retrain. He seemed to enjoy hating it, thriving off the sympathy and shared ranting it brought.

It is wholly annoying to have a ‘friend’ so desperately begging for sympathy and attention, I wonder whether actually they actively exacerbate their mental problems in order to gain more attention rather than address the issue in a healthy way. Either way I am tired of it. Over the last few years I have put myself out there for this friend, as much as I can living 500 miles away and with children, and so often he has avoided meetings, and ignored phone calls. We visit at least once a year and arranged to meet him each and every time, and with each visit he finds a reason not to. This last visit he simply refused to answer our calls, texts and emails. And here he is not 3 months later back begging sympathy.

And perhaps normally I’d not be so harsh on him, it’s not his fault other people suffer more. It simply seem so terribly unfair that someone with a world of opportunity at their fingertips, chances to retrain, to work, to live, is feeling so self piteous and merely treading water,not living at all; when there are others who have all of those choices stolen away from them so young who ask no sympathy at all.

I guess it merely highlights how bloody unfair it is.

Categories: head shrinkage Tags: , , ,

the 5am wake up club

August 17, 2010 Leave a comment

it’s getting really old being up this early, but it’s better than the 3 am starts we had at grannys!

We decided that the holiday upheaval was a good time to move Ivy from our room into Violet’s, we knew it’d mean being up through the night, just hadn’t anticipated how much! It’s been 5 nights so far, and each night Violet has woken Ivy up repeatedly, I was so sure it’d be the other way round too. I’m not sure what is waking Violet up, perhaps having her door open, but she cries and moans until Ivy wakes and screams,  which makes Violet scream louder. Very dull. Violet then demands juice, and Ivy gets taken downstairs as the only way to resettle her at the moment is to give her milk or walk with her.

So nearly every night they’ve had us up around midnight for about an hour. Last night they were up around 1 and again at 5, and me and Ivy have been up since.

We’re not really sure what to do now though. There’s only so long we can endure not sleeping properly, at least if it’s only one of them awake then only one of us needs to be, whereas currently both of us are having to get up to deal with them. But what’s the answer? We could put Ivy back in with us, but that’s not a great long term plan. We’re going to try getting Violet to drag her lazy bum out of bed when she wakes up and come and get us; like normal 3 year olds do, instead of yelling from her bed. I’m not certain I want to encourage her to be up wandering about in the middle of the night, but I certainly don’t want to encourage her to be up shouting for attention at all hours.

I often find myself wishing that she could understand some of what we say, but the recurring glue ear has made her deaf for so long, she simply doesn’t get what we’re saying to her, and she can’t communicate back really either. It’s frustrating. And I’m utterly sick of folk saying that I don’t want her to talk really cos I wont be able to shut her up. Even those with babes have this romantic notion of having a child that is a baby for longer, that is dependant for longer, and it’s not nearly as sweet as they think. Cos when I ask for advice on this sort of thing they say, ah well you have to explain it to her….. How?

Categories: ivy, violet Tags: , , , ,

yes receptionist lady, I am blogging this

Isn’t it funny how therapeutic keeping a blog can be? Just merely thinking about how the blog post you’re going to create can diffuse so much anger and upset. Well for me anyway!

Today we had an appointment at our drs surgery. We’re regulars there even if just getting prescriptions once a fortnight, but even that does not stop the receptionists being uppity self important women. The appointment today was for Violet, so we couldn’t really avoid having her there with us,  and luckily both girls were in good humour this morning. Violet spent quite a while sitting reading books and pointing out letters on signs around the room. We arrived as close to the appointment as possible, so we wouldn’t have to amuse the girls for too long, but after half an hour of waiting Violet had got itchy feet and was up running about. Still jolly of course, but running from one side of the room to the other, down the bits where there were no people, while I stood nearby and supervised.  She wasn’t going near anyone, I was clearly watching her and stopping her going near doors, but yet still…..

“can you please stop your child running around?”

I  muttered an apology and said that I thought letting her run a little was better than her screaming and disturbing everybody while I tried to pin her to a seat. But apparently HEALTH AND SAFETY ALERT!!!!! She might fall over.

So?? She’s 3 FFS!! falling over is what she does best!!

Where in the big book of H&S rules does it state that children can’t run? Certainly I don’t remember it being written anywhere when I had to do H&S assesments at work. But as we all know, drs receptionists have the own book of rules. And they are boring, stuffy, humourless rules specifically designed to annoy as many people as possible.

Categories: violet Tags: , , , ,

when did being a hippy mum give folk the right to be horrid and sanctimonious?

Sorry perhaps I’m being a little over sensitive, I wanted to be a hippy earth mother, I felt terribly cheated that circumstances meant that many of the hippy options were taken away from me.  Mostly though I felt the lack of support from hippier groups and people, that if I didn’t do it tyheir way I was failing or selfish.

I’m lucky enough to live somewhere where breast feeding is the norm, where there are a variety of friendly helpful staff who will advise on how to breastfeed. They’ll come to your house and help you get a latch and give advice on how to express. What there wasn’t was any support at all when these things weren’t working. They had many eco friendly ideas for getting more milk, fenugreek tablets, masssage and similar, but no advice at all about formula feeding. There was no advice anywhere on the most hippy way to formula feed, it was literally years too late before I found out about glass bottles.

I’m just abit angry after reading a post last night on a forum I read regularly where some sanctimonious hippy bint said that fomula fed babies are ‘unfinished’ ….GGGGRRaaaagghHHHHHH! Oh my goodness! Whatever happened to hippies being about peace and love and supporting each other to make the best choices possible??/

It is so very sad that there are mum’s like her; that there are people who make such snap judgements without taking any other factors into consideration. Those mums who sneer at you for getting a bottle out in public like somehow yuo’re letting the side down, who don’t stop to ask whether it is in fact breast milk in that bottle.

I loathe this idea that because I don’t co-sleep that I am letting my child down. That because I don’t have her in a sling continually she is going to be deficient. I am very pleased for aforementioned sanctimonious hippy b*tch that she managed to have the natural home birth so many of us wished for, I’m so pleased for her that she breastfed with no problems, has the option of cosleeping and the time and support to be able to do all the continuum parenting she bleats on about. It is very nice that it works for her. But I do wish, wholeheartedly, that there were some folks out there who could dilute their own hippy stance on things to make it accessible for us mums who don’t have all those options.  So that those of us who aren’t perfect could have support to be more hippified and eco friendly without being made to feel like a total failure for not breast feeding/co sleeping. cloth bumming.

Cos I’d put good f*cking money on bints like her and many others who have the audacity for calling me selfish and lazy for formula feeding my lactose intolerant baby don’t buy all local organic food or grow their own, that they aren’t powered entirely by green means, and that they all have cars that drink fossil fuels.  I wonder if they have time to recycle or make their own shampoo from soapnuts, I wonder if they spend as much time on the net researching FSC friendly wooden fair trade toys as they do on forums making us all feel like utter failures for not parenting as they do.

My message to you so called hippys, unless you’re breastfeeding as you write your condescending message on how I’m failing my kids on a computer made with recycled plastic powered only by the sun – shut up.

Makes. me. so. angry.

because I missed her birth story

I don’t know if I wrote it down anywhere, perhaps long forgotten on a forum I haven’t used since, so this is written in retrospect, just before her 3rd birthday! Feel like it should be written somewhere certainly.

I had had a dream pregnancy, the kind that other pregnant ladies are jealous of. No morning sickness, little backache, no scares, my worst complaint had been heartburn. I had made it all the way to 32 weeks.

Until I woke at 5am on the 29th June with the worst headache I had ever felt, like my head was in a vice. So I tried all the things I could think of, breakfast, tea, paracetamol, lying on the sofa watching BBC breakfast hoping it’d just go. The porridge, paracetamol and tea were unceremoniously rejected and the headache remained. I protested to my hubby that he should go to work, after all it was just a sore head, but he rang NHS 24 which resulted in a drs appointment, and being told to go straight to hospital and perhaps to take an overnight bag. I didn’t really think it was that serious, I was worried I’d need to stay there until the end of my pregnancy, and I’d only just gained my freedom from work!

I was monitored and prodded and tested and shown where the coco pops lived. I stayed over night reading horror novels, less than clever on a ward where you’d hear the odd wail from labouring mothers. I found the tv so I could watch the last epsiode of Dr Who the next night.

In the morning before breakfast I was wheeled up to delivery. It seemed so absurd being whisked up in a bed when I was capable of walking, I never thought to question why I was going, and while I was there I never questioned why I had staff with me every single second. I had thought that was normal on that ward. I was monitored constantly, and spent a lot of the day talking rubbish with midwives. I was blissfully oblivious.

I was visited by dad who booted Martin out only to then repeat the same questions over but while holding my foot.

Initially they had said they’d try to keep me in for a few weeks, get me as far along as they could, but over the afternoon I was told by very smiley midwives that they didn’t think that would happen. I had been nil by mouth all day but hadn’t really thought about it. My wee was being measured, there wasn’t any, no matter how much I drank. I found out I was going to be sectioned less than half an hour before it happened, and given a life long fear of catheters from a midwife who didn’t insert it properly. Twice.

I remember thinking as I was wheeled in, that I couldn’t do this now. I had no nappies, and we would miss Dr Who.

I signed consent for my section lying on the operating table, already anaesthetised from the waist down. It was then it began to really hit home that my baby was going to arrive. Now. While the op was happening Martin sold the anaesthetist a phone….a bandage appeared over the curtain and was tied to the overhead plugs, I now know it was attached to me, holding my belly out of the way……The moments waiting for Violet to cry were the worst, I knew she was born but I couldn’t see or hear her. Martin was deliberately getting in the way. I remember them telling me I had had a baby, and I remember seeing her nose peeping out of her swaddling as they wheeled her past me, and she was gone.

And then everything gets vague. Well vaguer. Recovery was surreal, Sara was there and had bought vests, Martin appeared with photos of a little red shiny person who looked grumpy.  And at some point I think they must have given me morphine. That night I was woken every quarter of an hour by the blood pressure monitor, every hour I was forced to drink water and had my wee measured. I remember waking and looking at the photo of the girl I had yet to meet. I remember wondering why my legs felt like they were lifting and falling.

The next day I was taken to meet her, all high up in her box, under her blue lights.  Sat there in my wheelchair, it felt so detached, almost like being in a museum or gallery. And there I was left feeling all in the way and awkward.  A little later I was shipped off to postnatal, left in a ward with 3 other women and their new babies, all alone.

And then came the visiting and the congratulating.  As the lovely health care assistant came to teach me to express my dad, his new girlfriend I’d met twice and her daughter arrived. Me sat there boobs out, bag of wee on my bed, hair unbrushed for 3 days, hospital gowned and unable to walk. And they congratulated me.

Some kind soul decided it was time I got my own little room, my own haven from all the other babies. And the visiting continued, some with looks of worry and doomsaying, most I think simply wanted to see the smallest baby they had heard of. A myriad of people I had not seen in years, people who had shown no interest in my pregnancy or return to Cornwall, people who have shown no interest since. Arriving at the hospital with a little bag containing a tiny outfit or some flowers, buying their visit to my babe, like some kind of freak show. Always dragging me back from the NICU to answer the same questions, taking me away from my baby.

There were bits of it I relished. Once I had got expressing sorted, I got a strange enjoyment from getting up in the middle of the night and ferrying it over, getting to stop in and say hello, start learn her cares. I liked being able to show other mums how the whole microwave sterilising system worked. I liked that in a short space of time I was up and about and one of the old timers on the ward, helping other mums, supporting them, able to have a laugh with the staff. I liked being a bit of an expert.

And going home was the worst. After 7 days it was suggested I should, I made it out. We went to Mcdonalds as I couldn’t face going to my house with no baby. Sat in the car drinking milkshake, with house sparrows dancing about on the bonnet, sitting on the wing mirror singing away. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. I came home and showered, dressed for the first time in a week. Got another cracking headache and went back in, blood pressure back up through the roof again.

More pills, more injections, more time with Violet, more random visits. And in the end I had to go home and start my life as a mum with no baby.

another week down

April 21, 2007 5 comments

and finally I get my contract for work! Which seems a little pointless seeing as I will only be there for another, eeek, 5 weeks :S Especially seeing as the original contract was til the 31st of March. Ah well at least I got one.

I have spent the last half an hour talking to Jehovah’s Witnesses who turned up on my door. One of them was an old Polish chap who had been taken to a camp in Siberia by the Nazi’s in the 2nd World War and was one of those that escaped and walked to India. Absolutely fascinating. I felt it would be wrong to slam the door on a guy like that, amazing.

New game of Vampire starting up again 2morro, yay!! I’ve bought more dice on t’internet, got some red & white one’s from legend games they look just like those campino sweeties, yum 😀 As soon as I discover what has happened to our old characters I will let y’all know. There is much scheming from pooka_joe it’s rather worrying….

For any of you that care I’m now 22 weeks pregnant, officially well and truly over half way, getting wider by the day. I am now regularly being booted about, especially at about 4 in the morning when little one likes to be awake. But at least I’ll already be used to being at silly times when they arrive. Lately s/he has started kicking so hard my whole belly wobbles, it looks funny 😀

And somewhat sadly Betty the Van got broken into last night 😦 right outside our lounge window!!! (as in, if I open the window I can touch the back door of the van)
Not that there’s anything in there worth taking, as the kids soon discovered, even the tax is up in July so that aint really worth having either. Unless you have a penchant for recycling I spose….

Work is as can be expected. Management decided to clean out the workrooms without first asking the staff. Which made staff v.angry. Manager ended up going home in tears cos staff got shouty when manger started binning people’s work. But like I say, 5 weeks to go, I really don’t care 🙂

wahey for bank holidays!

April 7, 2007 6 comments

They probably are the one redeeming feature of working for the council 🙂 Without any planning from myself I have manged to get an entire week off just by the way my days off fell with the bank holiday days….if I’d only realised earlier I would’ve done SOMETHING. Quite what I don’t know 😛

On thursday it was Grannie Elsie’s funeral, it was very sweet and exactly what she would’ve wanted. Well she had chosen the vicar and it was the church she attended and played piano for, and she got buried beside her hubby who had died about 50 years ago. I don’t think she ever found anyone else who could meet her standards 🙂 The graveyard is really pretty, don’t think there had been a burial there since at least the 60’s, the whole place is covered with wild yellow primroses. The wake was at the Coppice pub, which was right opposite the house she had lived in for 70 odd years (and also my home until I was 2, which made it weird cos there are bits of the building that are familiar in a half remebered, dream like way, mad)
And I had lots of folk molesting my bump, which is kinda ok when it’s family I spose….quite why other folk invade the personal space of highly hormonal women and wonder why they get growled at I don’t know.

Ooh I had to have words with my boss! I can’t remeber if I said here but the day after granny died I went into work, cried most of the way there (on a bus full of school kids too *rolls eyes*) arrived at work, cried at them, turned round and went home. Sometimes trying to keep busy is a stupid thing to do. Anyway, in my “back to work” interview she said she was going to put those 2 days off as a migraine. Which baffled me. I had to tell her to put it down as bereavement cos like that what happened *INSERT ME MAKING CHILDISH YOU’RE STUPID NOISES RIGHT ABOUT HERE* and then she told me I would have to take the funeral off as holiday. FFS holiday?? she could’ve at least phrased it better!!

It’s just more silly niggly things that piss me off, and well it doesn’t take much 😛

Anyway it’s beautiful weather so I’m going to head OUT (if I can find my sunscreen) I’m currently trying to convince pooka_joe that we need to go to the beach purely cos there are beaches, and that we then have to paddle. Just because. If I succeed I will post pics of any castles built, and if I don’t well I wont 😀

Hope everybody else is well and enjoying the lack of rain 🙂

Categories: Uncategorized Tags: , , , , ,