I'm supposed to go back to work this Wednesday.
I don't want too!
I don't suppose many new mothers do? or so I thought but when I spoke to the NCT girls who have gone back to their jobs many of them were relishing their new found freedom even if it was only for a couple of days a week.
Of course these ladies are doing something they love. Something they even actively missed whilst on maternity leave.
For fans of "Friends" (and you have probably gathered by now I am a huge fan of the show - hence the homage to it with my blog titles) I am Chandler Bing. Well at least I have his job. The one no one really knows what it's called or what he does. I'm a (as Rachel calls it) Transpond Transpondser! And not only is that "not even a word" it's barely even a job!
I want to be a writer (some would say I am as I'm writing this now but I mean a paid writer) but as work and real life looms I'm afraid tiredness will take over and once again I will be swallowed up in what society expects instead of doing what I really want to do.
I tried handing my notice in two weeks ago but chickened out and said "I'd give it a go". I know I'm kidding myself but it's the responsible thing to do. I'm like that you see. For all my bluff and bluster I'm deep down responsible and although we could just about manage it would be a big burden on hubby.
My Mum's generation didn't have this dilemma. They gave up work to get married for pete's sake let alone to take care of the children. It didn't occur to them that hubby had the financial burden. It was just the lie of the land. It was what happened.
But when the feminists of the 70's decided that women wanted it all I think they forgot to ask us if we really did! Or indeed if all of us did! They assumed that having it all was aspired too but instead it's just exhausting! Especially if by having it all you are looking after the house and the baby, doing a job you have no interest in to earn money but in the mean time trying to forge a career in what you love in your, laughingly called, spare time!
You know what amazes me is that my lack of enthusiasm doesn't stem from wanting to leave the boy. Of course I don't want to leave him. That goes without saying really! But he will be with his Nanny P for the two days and undoubtedly will have a ball!
No this one isn't just about being a Mum. This one is about being a 40 year old woman!
And they do say life begins at 40!
However I'm 41 in April..
So maybe I'd better hurry up and get living.......
Monday, 31 January 2011
Thursday, 27 January 2011
The One with the Puffer, the Penicillin and the Pyjamas!
The boy is poorly again!
This time he's full of cold, runny nose and a nasty hacking cough. Another trip to the doctors!
The Doc wasn't sure. Well to be fair it wasn't a Doctor it was a Nurse Practitioner. So the Nurse Practitioner wasn't sure!
She checked ears, nose, throat and chest. The boy was brave. She scratched her head! Never a sign that fills you with a lot of confidence!
"It could be viral bronchitis. I'll prescribe some Amoxicillin. Oh but then he does sound wheezy too."
Hubby has mild asthma so to play it safe she also gave us an asthma puffer and tube with a rubber mask on (not as scary as it sounds) to administer the puffs.
"Keep giving him Calpol and the antibiotics but if his breathing gets worse and the puffer doesn't help then phone 999!"
At this point my face must have set into shock or gone strange or my eyes widened - something like that as she said:
"Don't look at me like that Mummy. Try not to worry."
Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll try not to worry. You don't really know what it is so you've thrown the kitchen sink and Uncle Tom Cobbly and all at it and then said if all else fails call an ambulance.
And I only thought he had a cold!!!!
So now he's not really eating, having reasonable naps (spoke too soon I can hear him waking up and it's only been 30 minutes) playing and laughing but coughing like an old man on 40 Woodbines a day.
He's gone off having his Calpol or medicine on a spoon and when this morning, at what I am laughingly calling breakfast at the moment, I tried a syringe he clamped his mouth shut and the viscose yellow goo shot out all over my pyjamas! Not his, just mine!
And the puffer.?
Well as Daddy has experience, Daddy does the puffer. Oh the puffer is a game. He loves the puffer. He sits nicely and calmly for Daddy and the puffer!
God bless the puffer hey!
This time he's full of cold, runny nose and a nasty hacking cough. Another trip to the doctors!
The Doc wasn't sure. Well to be fair it wasn't a Doctor it was a Nurse Practitioner. So the Nurse Practitioner wasn't sure!
She checked ears, nose, throat and chest. The boy was brave. She scratched her head! Never a sign that fills you with a lot of confidence!
"It could be viral bronchitis. I'll prescribe some Amoxicillin. Oh but then he does sound wheezy too."
Hubby has mild asthma so to play it safe she also gave us an asthma puffer and tube with a rubber mask on (not as scary as it sounds) to administer the puffs.
"Keep giving him Calpol and the antibiotics but if his breathing gets worse and the puffer doesn't help then phone 999!"
At this point my face must have set into shock or gone strange or my eyes widened - something like that as she said:
"Don't look at me like that Mummy. Try not to worry."
Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll try not to worry. You don't really know what it is so you've thrown the kitchen sink and Uncle Tom Cobbly and all at it and then said if all else fails call an ambulance.
And I only thought he had a cold!!!!
So now he's not really eating, having reasonable naps (spoke too soon I can hear him waking up and it's only been 30 minutes) playing and laughing but coughing like an old man on 40 Woodbines a day.
He's gone off having his Calpol or medicine on a spoon and when this morning, at what I am laughingly calling breakfast at the moment, I tried a syringe he clamped his mouth shut and the viscose yellow goo shot out all over my pyjamas! Not his, just mine!
And the puffer.?
Well as Daddy has experience, Daddy does the puffer. Oh the puffer is a game. He loves the puffer. He sits nicely and calmly for Daddy and the puffer!
God bless the puffer hey!
Thursday, 20 January 2011
The One with the Seasonal Aisle
Right so I was in Asda yesterday (normally I'm more discreet about name dropping retailers details on here but today I name and shame) and they were selling Easter Eggs!
Not just little Cadburys Creme Eggs but proper, big, £2 a pop Easter Eggs.
I thought I was indignant at Paperchase having a display of Valentines Cards on 28th December but this takes the chocolate coated biscuit.
Good Friday is 22nd April!
Easter is three months away!
Three months!
A quarter of a year to be precise!
No wonder we all complain that time seems to go so quickly and the months and years fly by nowadays! It's shops making us believe that events and public holidays are all a lot closer than they actually are. I remember the exuberance of the school summer holidays starting being blunted by going into Woolies in town (ahh Woolworths - a minutes silence I think) and seeing the "Back to School" signs. Christmas has started by August Bank Holiday Monday, at which point if you're not had your summer holiday by then you can no longer buy shorts or a swimsuit because the boutiques are full of "New Seasons" winter coats and jumpers!
And then Halloween and Bonfire night get swallowed up somehow as Christmas bulldozes it's way towards December with alarming speed.
I thought that at least we'd have a little respite in the early part of the year with just a gentle nod at Valentines Day and a prod at pancake Tuesday.
But no! I've not long taken my tinsel down and according to Asda it's Easter.
All they need to do now is develop a mincemeat flavoured hot cross bun and we'll be laughing.
Hysterically!!!
Not just little Cadburys Creme Eggs but proper, big, £2 a pop Easter Eggs.
I thought I was indignant at Paperchase having a display of Valentines Cards on 28th December but this takes the chocolate coated biscuit.
Good Friday is 22nd April!
Easter is three months away!
Three months!
A quarter of a year to be precise!
No wonder we all complain that time seems to go so quickly and the months and years fly by nowadays! It's shops making us believe that events and public holidays are all a lot closer than they actually are. I remember the exuberance of the school summer holidays starting being blunted by going into Woolies in town (ahh Woolworths - a minutes silence I think) and seeing the "Back to School" signs. Christmas has started by August Bank Holiday Monday, at which point if you're not had your summer holiday by then you can no longer buy shorts or a swimsuit because the boutiques are full of "New Seasons" winter coats and jumpers!
And then Halloween and Bonfire night get swallowed up somehow as Christmas bulldozes it's way towards December with alarming speed.
I thought that at least we'd have a little respite in the early part of the year with just a gentle nod at Valentines Day and a prod at pancake Tuesday.
But no! I've not long taken my tinsel down and according to Asda it's Easter.
All they need to do now is develop a mincemeat flavoured hot cross bun and we'll be laughing.
Hysterically!!!
Thursday, 13 January 2011
The One with the Sample!
So I promised you tales of why the lead up to Christmas was so fraught!
Here's the first one. The story of the stool sample!
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin....
The boy had a cough and a slight cold but then he developed what we charmingly call round these parts "the squits". They didn't seem to be getting any better and when high temperatures and nasty nappy rash accompanied them I took him to the doctors.
Now I must explain that at this point the boy and myself had been staying with Nanny P and Granddad G for 3 days as hubby had developed a near fatal case of man flu (to be fair he was quite poorly and he doesn't make too much fuss) but as we live in a small house the chances of one or both of us catching it was quite high. So as a result we had to see the doctors out where Nanny P lives and get the lad in as a temporary resident.
The doctor prescribed some cream for the boys bum and asked for a stool sample. Standard procedure.
Hubby felt better and missing us terribly came to pick us up that night.
Could the stool sample go to our home practice perhaps?
Next day I phoned them!
It couldn't!
So we were going to have to dash all the way out to the little country surgery, that only opened at odd times, near my Mum's.
Gives a whole new meaning to the expression bum's rush but never mind!
Hubby had the sample with him and was about to depart when the boys temperature shot up again. He was listless, out of sorts and had hardly eaten anything all day. I phoned the duty doctor. She suggested cool flannels and Calpol. She also said it was ridiculous what the receptionist had told me that morning, of course the sample could go to them. She booked us an appointment to see a doctor the next day, bring the sample in she said and have them mark it for her attention. Lucky we didn't make a wasted journey!
Sorted!
Or so I thought!
We duly went to see the doctor at 9.15am on Christmas Eve and he checked the boy over again. Nothing on his chest, we were doing the right things for the temperatures and the cream was clearing up the rash. However the diarrhoea was obviously still an issue so maybe we should consider trying out a Soya based or lactose free formula. Sainsburys sell it he assured us.
Hubby, who had been carrying our son's poo about in this pocket for the last 24 hours desperately trying to give it to someone, presented the small sterilised container to the doctor and explained what his colleague had told us.
"Oh no they don't take stool samples from here. Only blood and urine. The courier won't collect them. You'll have to take that directly to the hospital."
I was losing patience now. I mean I know it was sh*t but we couldn't even give it away!
So, and it's Christmas Eve remember, off we trudge to the supermarket to fight the crowds of last minute shoppers buying satsumas they won't eat and sprouts nobody likes, to purchase the only one they had, SMA Wysoy at 9 pound a pop! All the while horribly aware that as we were paying hubby still had the boys poo in his pocket!
Merry Squitmas everyone!
Then off home, via the hospital to finally drop off the droppings!
So in conclusion?
The boy turned his nose up at the Soya milk which he didn't need anyway as the results came back as no further action to be taken. Probably just teething or a by product of a virus.
All normal.
Which is more than can be said for trying to give them the stuff to test in the first place!
Here's the first one. The story of the stool sample!
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin....
The boy had a cough and a slight cold but then he developed what we charmingly call round these parts "the squits". They didn't seem to be getting any better and when high temperatures and nasty nappy rash accompanied them I took him to the doctors.
Now I must explain that at this point the boy and myself had been staying with Nanny P and Granddad G for 3 days as hubby had developed a near fatal case of man flu (to be fair he was quite poorly and he doesn't make too much fuss) but as we live in a small house the chances of one or both of us catching it was quite high. So as a result we had to see the doctors out where Nanny P lives and get the lad in as a temporary resident.
The doctor prescribed some cream for the boys bum and asked for a stool sample. Standard procedure.
Hubby felt better and missing us terribly came to pick us up that night.
Could the stool sample go to our home practice perhaps?
Next day I phoned them!
It couldn't!
So we were going to have to dash all the way out to the little country surgery, that only opened at odd times, near my Mum's.
Gives a whole new meaning to the expression bum's rush but never mind!
Hubby had the sample with him and was about to depart when the boys temperature shot up again. He was listless, out of sorts and had hardly eaten anything all day. I phoned the duty doctor. She suggested cool flannels and Calpol. She also said it was ridiculous what the receptionist had told me that morning, of course the sample could go to them. She booked us an appointment to see a doctor the next day, bring the sample in she said and have them mark it for her attention. Lucky we didn't make a wasted journey!
Sorted!
Or so I thought!
We duly went to see the doctor at 9.15am on Christmas Eve and he checked the boy over again. Nothing on his chest, we were doing the right things for the temperatures and the cream was clearing up the rash. However the diarrhoea was obviously still an issue so maybe we should consider trying out a Soya based or lactose free formula. Sainsburys sell it he assured us.
Hubby, who had been carrying our son's poo about in this pocket for the last 24 hours desperately trying to give it to someone, presented the small sterilised container to the doctor and explained what his colleague had told us.
"Oh no they don't take stool samples from here. Only blood and urine. The courier won't collect them. You'll have to take that directly to the hospital."
I was losing patience now. I mean I know it was sh*t but we couldn't even give it away!
So, and it's Christmas Eve remember, off we trudge to the supermarket to fight the crowds of last minute shoppers buying satsumas they won't eat and sprouts nobody likes, to purchase the only one they had, SMA Wysoy at 9 pound a pop! All the while horribly aware that as we were paying hubby still had the boys poo in his pocket!
Merry Squitmas everyone!
Then off home, via the hospital to finally drop off the droppings!
So in conclusion?
The boy turned his nose up at the Soya milk which he didn't need anyway as the results came back as no further action to be taken. Probably just teething or a by product of a virus.
All normal.
Which is more than can be said for trying to give them the stuff to test in the first place!
Sunday, 9 January 2011
The One where I Don't Do the Housework
I hate housework!
There I've said it. I've come clean (pun intended).
As I near the end of my maternity leave I find myself reflecting on my year off and what I am learning about myself and the truth is I am not a natural housewife. There are days when I don't feel much of a natural mother either, but I am certainly not a natural housewife!
It's all so soul destroyingly pointless! And just like painting the Fourth Bridge as soon as you think you have finished it's time to start all over again.
That is what I loathe most. It's never finished! There's no closure as my American friends would call it. You are never done and.. erm, erm... dusted (it's puntastic around here today - must be panto season.. oh no it's not etc etc repeat to fade..)
Take now for example, I have a list of jobs as long as your feather duster of polishing and cleaning to do but here I am, the boy is asleep and I'm sat at the computer writing.
Does this make me lazy? Selfish? A bad person?
Depends upon your point of view I guess.
I used to work with some ladies who actively relished cleaning their house at least twice a week if not most evenings. I admired them, even envied them for their enthusiasm but I couldn't think of anything worse.
Life is, well my life is, too short for cleaning I'm afraid but as much as I like the mantra "While he's awake we play, while he's asleep I write" you can't put it off forever.
Hubby is amazing and does more than his fair share and I'm not a complete slob, there is after all a hygiene issue here so don't get me wrong we don't live in filth and squalor. Just organised, dusty, chaos.
You ask most people what they'd do if they won a lot of money and they'd say they'd buy a Ferrari or a big house or take a world cruise.
You can keep all that, I'd just like a lady that "does".
Cos this lady, doesn't!!
There I've said it. I've come clean (pun intended).
As I near the end of my maternity leave I find myself reflecting on my year off and what I am learning about myself and the truth is I am not a natural housewife. There are days when I don't feel much of a natural mother either, but I am certainly not a natural housewife!
It's all so soul destroyingly pointless! And just like painting the Fourth Bridge as soon as you think you have finished it's time to start all over again.
That is what I loathe most. It's never finished! There's no closure as my American friends would call it. You are never done and.. erm, erm... dusted (it's puntastic around here today - must be panto season.. oh no it's not etc etc repeat to fade..)
Take now for example, I have a list of jobs as long as your feather duster of polishing and cleaning to do but here I am, the boy is asleep and I'm sat at the computer writing.
Does this make me lazy? Selfish? A bad person?
Depends upon your point of view I guess.
I used to work with some ladies who actively relished cleaning their house at least twice a week if not most evenings. I admired them, even envied them for their enthusiasm but I couldn't think of anything worse.
Life is, well my life is, too short for cleaning I'm afraid but as much as I like the mantra "While he's awake we play, while he's asleep I write" you can't put it off forever.
Hubby is amazing and does more than his fair share and I'm not a complete slob, there is after all a hygiene issue here so don't get me wrong we don't live in filth and squalor. Just organised, dusty, chaos.
You ask most people what they'd do if they won a lot of money and they'd say they'd buy a Ferrari or a big house or take a world cruise.
You can keep all that, I'd just like a lady that "does".
Cos this lady, doesn't!!
Friday, 7 January 2011
The One with the Happy New Year
Happy New Year!
Well I'm back from the Christmas break (and by "a break" I mean a husband with flu, a baby with upset tummy, a fraudster cloning my debit card and taking all the money out of my current account and someone smacking into the passenger door of my car leaving a massive dent - apart from that lovely Christmas thanks - you?).
So here I am ready to entertain, inform, amuse and delight you with randomness all again!!
So a new year then, and 2011 sees me return to work in three weeks time, the boys first birthday, back on stage in a show in March and summer family holidays away with friends and visiting family.
But before all that we still have the depths of Winter to contend with!
Many people see January as a fresh start. New diet, new job, new years resolutions, new you infact! But I've always hated January. I'm usually still too sluggish after Christmas (this year I can't even blame alcohol - what with no sleep and middle of the night bum changes I didn't touch a drop Christmas Eve, Christmas Day or Boxing Day!) I've always seen September as a more natural time for new beginnings with it being the start of the academic year. But that's just me!
However this year, now the Xmas decs are packed away, the last of the sweets have been gobbled up (I had to resort to sucking the chocolate off the coconut ones so desperate was I for sugar) and hubby has returned to work I feel a sense of "getting back to normal" and for the first time January doesn't fill me with dread.
I've made no resolutions. No expectations. No plans. I'm going to just see what 2011 brings.
I guess now a new year isn't just about me and my plans anymore so maybe motherhood has made me appreciate this time more?
Or it could just be that there's wall to wall darts on in January!!
180!!!!!
Well I'm back from the Christmas break (and by "a break" I mean a husband with flu, a baby with upset tummy, a fraudster cloning my debit card and taking all the money out of my current account and someone smacking into the passenger door of my car leaving a massive dent - apart from that lovely Christmas thanks - you?).
So here I am ready to entertain, inform, amuse and delight you with randomness all again!!
So a new year then, and 2011 sees me return to work in three weeks time, the boys first birthday, back on stage in a show in March and summer family holidays away with friends and visiting family.
But before all that we still have the depths of Winter to contend with!
Many people see January as a fresh start. New diet, new job, new years resolutions, new you infact! But I've always hated January. I'm usually still too sluggish after Christmas (this year I can't even blame alcohol - what with no sleep and middle of the night bum changes I didn't touch a drop Christmas Eve, Christmas Day or Boxing Day!) I've always seen September as a more natural time for new beginnings with it being the start of the academic year. But that's just me!
However this year, now the Xmas decs are packed away, the last of the sweets have been gobbled up (I had to resort to sucking the chocolate off the coconut ones so desperate was I for sugar) and hubby has returned to work I feel a sense of "getting back to normal" and for the first time January doesn't fill me with dread.
I've made no resolutions. No expectations. No plans. I'm going to just see what 2011 brings.
I guess now a new year isn't just about me and my plans anymore so maybe motherhood has made me appreciate this time more?
Or it could just be that there's wall to wall darts on in January!!
180!!!!!
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