My children have been driving me bonkers today. It's partly as they've not had enough exercise recently: they just think up more and more mischievious things to do; things which they've been told off about a zillion times. I can't believe I'm about to have a third - what madness!
At least after tomorrow I shall be able to begin to get my body back and be physically normal again - running, lifting things, twisting to see while driving, getting in and out of the bath, doing my boots up.... you get the picture... yes a bit of time is needed to get over the caesarean but I shan't feel I'm squashing the baby and won't be restricted by this lump in front of me but just by a flabby stomach (which I shall work on making unflabby).
Husband is also getting annoyed with the children, particularly as Daughter is still, now, at 8.35pm, not settled in bed. I thought maybe I was stressed about tomorrow but perhaps it's more that they're being a pain! Lots of long walks and bike rides and fresh air are definitely needed. I had hoped for at least half an hour of the four of us sitting together on the sofa watching something on TV and cuddling up, as it's the last time there will be only 4 of us... but the children started fighting and Husband was on the phone to his sister. In the end I had a cuddle with Son and read Horrid Henry to him (revolting child - Horrid Henry that is - and as one of my friends said, Perfect Peter is no better) while Daughter watched Charlie and Lola. I am now hoping for a few minutes' peace with Husband before I take my first antiacid drug at 10pm. I'm also hoping to feel some more movements from the baby as I always worry when I've yelled at the children: I can feel my stress levels shooting up.
It struck me at tea time that I can't remember the night before Daughter was born: I remember 3 nights before Son was born all too clearly (the first I was in hospital prior to being induced for the first time the next morning; the second I was in hospital in a lot of pain after a second lot of induction drugs, until I got pethadine - Husband had to sleep in a chair; and the third was after an evening of agony and when I ultimately, at about midnight, had my waters broken, an epidural put in, got put on a syntocynin drip and chatted about triathlon with the midwife whilst Husband slept on a mattress on the floor).
I so hope this baby will be OK: I'm so worried that I get so angry with the other two sometimes that it will have adversely affected the baby; that there's something the scans haven't picked up (especially as when I weighed myself today I had lost a pound in weight, which means I haven't put on any weight for a month or more - and Pregnant Friend C. said again the other day that I was looking smaller); that for some reason he'll be stillborn. Please God, no. We'll meet him tomorrow and find out. Meanwhile what I have done is the washing, the washing up, the hoovering, and taken down the christmas decorations. Will the house be as tidy when I come home from hospital?!
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
BABY SHOWER
Husband's brother and wife-to-be have been staying with us since 23rd December. She's one of those people who always sees the good side of everybody and is incredibly tolerant and forgiving, with a big, warm, open heart. So perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised when she suggested organising a Baby Shower for me (she's also a big kid who loves parties and presents and such like!).
As an aside, it was touching that the other day when we were in the car coming back from Lanercost, Son said to her (J) 'I hope Uncle P doesn't ever get a different girlfriend', and Daughter chipped in her agreement. They both love Aunty J to bits: certainly we all feel that she's part of the family and hope it stays that way: all the signs are that it will.
The Baby Shower was relatively small but it was nice as it meant that we all fitted into the sitting room and were able to talk. The tree lights were on, and some classical music, and Uncle P and Aunty J had gone to M&S and got sandwiches and dips and crudities and crisps - and cakes (which latter Duaghter had her eye on from the moment she saw them!). I got stacks of presents, both for the baby and for me, including some pairs of socks: something I have nothing of so far for him. It was like having Christmas Day or my birthday all over again. I couldn't resist using a Soap and Glory Breakfast Body Scrub (http://www.soapandglory.com/) in the shower this morning: it's not a brand I've come across before but is lovely. I felt very spoilt.
I did say at one point that I was beginning to panic a bit and to think 'I don't want a third child': probably not the best thing to say in a room of women where 3 of them have had fertility problems, though I did point out that I thought it was just last minute nerves. What I'm particularly nervous about is lest there's something wrong with him which hasn't been picked up on scans, via the amniocentesis, etc.: I just have this niggling fear. I think it's just that having got pregnant unexpectedly and so late in life, and feeling so lucky to have the two we have already, I almost feel that I just don't deserve a third healthy baby. Logic tells me there has been nothing to indicate that he won't be healthy though, so I pray he will be: I hope also as happy and as bright as the other two.
Breastfeeding got mentioned yesterday, which sent my stress levels suddenly rocketing. I think if I hear any more advice about 'how to' and 'what helps' and 'just perservere' I shall scream (or wring somebody's neck). If you're dripping milk from 8 months pregnant then it's almost bound to be easy: I got so fed-up with being told by one midwife last time that the baby was latching on fine and then by another that she wasn't. I'm perfectly aware of all the top tips, and I hope I'll be able to make a success of it this time. I have just found a website which had some comments from a few years ago from women who had been in a similar situation, which was funny and reassuring: one woman had given up after initially trying with her first 2 children, but wanted to try again with no.3 and was again having problems. The comments and help which followed, from women who had had similar issues, were funny and brought tears to my eyes as well: and I felt so much empathy for the woman who had said that she didn't want just to be told to perservere. If I breastfeed for 3 or 4 months I shall feel I have succeeded: and from what they were all saying it does sound as if you need to stuff a good load of boob into the baby's mouth.
I have to say that part of me in any case finds breastfeeding a bit of an invasion of privacy/slightly embarrassing. That's my problem, not caused by anyone else, and I know I have no reason to think that way, but that's how I feel: possibly because it didn't work previously.
What was positive however was that J. mentioned that her sister had had problems breastfeeding and stopped, so I've sent her a message via Facebook. I think I'd far rather speak to women who have had problems breastfeeding - whether or not they have given up (perhaps especially if they have given up) - than ones who have been milk-rich nutrient providers for their babies for up to a year or more. Perhaps it's selfish of me but I'm going to want my life back: to be able to go to choir, to singing lessons, to get a job or various jobs/pieces of work - I don't want to be a milk producing machine.
Well, he'll be here soon. Two more sleeps.... we still have a load of christmas thank you letters to write but I thought that I might possibly be able to include some photos of the baby with them if we leave them until next week. P. & J. go back up to Aberdeen tomorrow, so I think that will be the opportunity to take the tree down. It always makes me a bit sad, putting all the decorations and lights away: the world suddenly seems so much more drab, especially in years where there is no snow (and ours has nearly all gone now: the world is rather rainy and grey at the moment).
Husband feels that 2011 may be a difficult year, particularly if he has a more senior job as well as our having a newborn. I think it may be a joyful year: a new, more senior job would be far more fulfilling for him and less annoying and frustrating than his current job, where he does stacks of overtime for little reward; and I'm still hoping that I get new work, perhaps in a different field. I'm optimistic that the newborn may prove to be - as so many third children seem to - an easy-going little chap who fits in with everybody else, because he has to. Having said that I don't want him to be a walkover or a doormat: and I'm not sure I could have much more pleasant-natured a Son than the one I already have.
We'll see!
As an aside, it was touching that the other day when we were in the car coming back from Lanercost, Son said to her (J) 'I hope Uncle P doesn't ever get a different girlfriend', and Daughter chipped in her agreement. They both love Aunty J to bits: certainly we all feel that she's part of the family and hope it stays that way: all the signs are that it will.
The Baby Shower was relatively small but it was nice as it meant that we all fitted into the sitting room and were able to talk. The tree lights were on, and some classical music, and Uncle P and Aunty J had gone to M&S and got sandwiches and dips and crudities and crisps - and cakes (which latter Duaghter had her eye on from the moment she saw them!). I got stacks of presents, both for the baby and for me, including some pairs of socks: something I have nothing of so far for him. It was like having Christmas Day or my birthday all over again. I couldn't resist using a Soap and Glory Breakfast Body Scrub (http://www.soapandglory.com/) in the shower this morning: it's not a brand I've come across before but is lovely. I felt very spoilt.
I did say at one point that I was beginning to panic a bit and to think 'I don't want a third child': probably not the best thing to say in a room of women where 3 of them have had fertility problems, though I did point out that I thought it was just last minute nerves. What I'm particularly nervous about is lest there's something wrong with him which hasn't been picked up on scans, via the amniocentesis, etc.: I just have this niggling fear. I think it's just that having got pregnant unexpectedly and so late in life, and feeling so lucky to have the two we have already, I almost feel that I just don't deserve a third healthy baby. Logic tells me there has been nothing to indicate that he won't be healthy though, so I pray he will be: I hope also as happy and as bright as the other two.
Breastfeeding got mentioned yesterday, which sent my stress levels suddenly rocketing. I think if I hear any more advice about 'how to' and 'what helps' and 'just perservere' I shall scream (or wring somebody's neck). If you're dripping milk from 8 months pregnant then it's almost bound to be easy: I got so fed-up with being told by one midwife last time that the baby was latching on fine and then by another that she wasn't. I'm perfectly aware of all the top tips, and I hope I'll be able to make a success of it this time. I have just found a website which had some comments from a few years ago from women who had been in a similar situation, which was funny and reassuring: one woman had given up after initially trying with her first 2 children, but wanted to try again with no.3 and was again having problems. The comments and help which followed, from women who had had similar issues, were funny and brought tears to my eyes as well: and I felt so much empathy for the woman who had said that she didn't want just to be told to perservere. If I breastfeed for 3 or 4 months I shall feel I have succeeded: and from what they were all saying it does sound as if you need to stuff a good load of boob into the baby's mouth.
I have to say that part of me in any case finds breastfeeding a bit of an invasion of privacy/slightly embarrassing. That's my problem, not caused by anyone else, and I know I have no reason to think that way, but that's how I feel: possibly because it didn't work previously.
What was positive however was that J. mentioned that her sister had had problems breastfeeding and stopped, so I've sent her a message via Facebook. I think I'd far rather speak to women who have had problems breastfeeding - whether or not they have given up (perhaps especially if they have given up) - than ones who have been milk-rich nutrient providers for their babies for up to a year or more. Perhaps it's selfish of me but I'm going to want my life back: to be able to go to choir, to singing lessons, to get a job or various jobs/pieces of work - I don't want to be a milk producing machine.
Well, he'll be here soon. Two more sleeps.... we still have a load of christmas thank you letters to write but I thought that I might possibly be able to include some photos of the baby with them if we leave them until next week. P. & J. go back up to Aberdeen tomorrow, so I think that will be the opportunity to take the tree down. It always makes me a bit sad, putting all the decorations and lights away: the world suddenly seems so much more drab, especially in years where there is no snow (and ours has nearly all gone now: the world is rather rainy and grey at the moment).
Husband feels that 2011 may be a difficult year, particularly if he has a more senior job as well as our having a newborn. I think it may be a joyful year: a new, more senior job would be far more fulfilling for him and less annoying and frustrating than his current job, where he does stacks of overtime for little reward; and I'm still hoping that I get new work, perhaps in a different field. I'm optimistic that the newborn may prove to be - as so many third children seem to - an easy-going little chap who fits in with everybody else, because he has to. Having said that I don't want him to be a walkover or a doormat: and I'm not sure I could have much more pleasant-natured a Son than the one I already have.
We'll see!
Sunday, 26 December 2010
CHRISTMAS DAY AND BOXING DAY
Christmas Day night:
Alex is asleep in his new (proper) sleeping bag next to me. Less than a week to go before the birth of my third child.
This was originally written on paper as there was something about Alex being so peacefully and beautifully asleep besides me, and the fact that I could relax back in bed so the baby could wriggle, which made me want to write on paper rather than on the computer: but now I have transferred it.
I reread the notes from Alex's birth recently: a copy had been sent from Bristol to Carlisle for the Doctor's information. I doubt I shall ever exactly forget his birth - the excrutiating pain; the way it dragged on so long; the stupid midwife who told me I could only have paracetamol; not wanting my mother there, only David; the fear when the baby's heartrate dropped.... and the ultimate rush of the emergency caesarean, and then, finally, the baby in my arms.
Alex will always be my firstborn and will always be the one whose birth was the most traumatic and scarey. David absolutely dotes on Isabella and is (mostly) tied round her little finger: she's fiesty, gorgeous, charming, bright, self-willed... but we agree that Alex has a lovely, kind, sharing, caring nature and is also bright: it's easy for his sister's extrovert nature to mean that she gets taken notice of before or in preference to Alex. I wonder what no.3 will be like: definitely his own person, of that I am 100% sure.
It's interesting reading back through diaries to when Alex was only 2 years old and Bella 6 months. Their basic characters haven't changed - in fact my comments about them are pretty repetitive - but I think having nights of mostly unbroken sleep and their being able to do so much independently makes life a lot easier. It's going to be very strange going back to having a newborn and then a toddler again: part of me doesn't really want to, though it's too late now!
Time for me to go to sleep. That's Christmas Day over for another year: and next year we will have an almost-one-year-old with us. Once we had one child we hoped for, and got, a second quite quickly: a third is an unexpected bonus.
They say children change your life. In the almost 10 years since I turned 40 mine has changed beyond what I ever imagined.
Boxing Day:
Well, the big day is over, the children are still excitable but tired and emotional as well, and we're now beginning to clear up the countless presents left strewn around our currently untidy sitting room (normally the children are not allowed to take toys etc. in there and it's our peaceful room for reading/playing the piano/listening to music: our oasis of calm. At Christmas it is the focus of attention, with the presents under the tree, the fire burning, and the joy of the children as they open one engrossing present after the next).
We all seem to have gone down with headaches, which is perhaps not surprising. Daughter is making a lot of noise about not being able to go to sleep: and yet I know she's incredibly tired. They have been eating rubbish the last few days (despite our attempts to get vegetables into them: somehow chocolate has more appeal - funny that....) and not had enough fresh air and exercise. I tried to get them to walk all the way around Talkin Tarn yesterday but they were getting cold: Son had worn a pair of woollen gloves which he then swept snow off seats with (i.e. getting his gloves wet and cold) and Daughter I think just had not worn enough clothes. I was lovely and warm in my ski gloves, a new hat from Husband, new boots from Husband, and Husband's Rab jacket (waterproof outer and fleece lined): the only part of me which was even remotely cold was my thighs due to having a slightly thin skirt on, but that wasn't a problem so long as I kept moving. I do so look forward to being normal size again and wearing my fleecy lined trousers or even salopettes... I am assuming of course that I do get back to my normal size.
I look even more like Mr. Greedy than I did a few weeks ago, I think. I feel a bit like a rather large ship which is about to be launched - though I doubt I'd float. The baby seems to have turned round sideways again as well so I am definitely not the 'torpedo' shape which always looks so much more ready for birth than the Mr. Greedy shape.
We went to a party this afternoon at the house of some new friends - parents from Daughter's class at school. He works at the Infirmary (and will be my anaethetist on Friday so long as he hasn't gone down with flu) and other people there included his family and people who live near them who also work at the infirmary: including a fellow blogger, whose blog I really must mention as it has the most beautiful photos and photo collages in it. I hope she won't mind if I recommend it here: http://www.helen-likeitorlumpit.blogspot.com/: definitely worth a look if only for the photos, and not half so wordy as mine.
Daughter is whingeing about not being able to get to sleep so I'd better go to hit her around the head (I mean, of course, to give her a cuddle). Son has gone to bed, as normal, like an angel. I was writing a paper diary in bed yesterday (one day I may work out how to cut and paste it into this blog) and looking back over the years I've kept it, the same comments about the children's characters and their bedtime behaviour are repeated time and time again!
Daughter (tearfully & dramatically) 'ohhh, I just can't get to sleep.... I really want to get to sleep.... I'll never get any sleep... could somebody help me'... etc. etc.
Good night!
Alex is asleep in his new (proper) sleeping bag next to me. Less than a week to go before the birth of my third child.
This was originally written on paper as there was something about Alex being so peacefully and beautifully asleep besides me, and the fact that I could relax back in bed so the baby could wriggle, which made me want to write on paper rather than on the computer: but now I have transferred it.
I reread the notes from Alex's birth recently: a copy had been sent from Bristol to Carlisle for the Doctor's information. I doubt I shall ever exactly forget his birth - the excrutiating pain; the way it dragged on so long; the stupid midwife who told me I could only have paracetamol; not wanting my mother there, only David; the fear when the baby's heartrate dropped.... and the ultimate rush of the emergency caesarean, and then, finally, the baby in my arms.
Alex will always be my firstborn and will always be the one whose birth was the most traumatic and scarey. David absolutely dotes on Isabella and is (mostly) tied round her little finger: she's fiesty, gorgeous, charming, bright, self-willed... but we agree that Alex has a lovely, kind, sharing, caring nature and is also bright: it's easy for his sister's extrovert nature to mean that she gets taken notice of before or in preference to Alex. I wonder what no.3 will be like: definitely his own person, of that I am 100% sure.
It's interesting reading back through diaries to when Alex was only 2 years old and Bella 6 months. Their basic characters haven't changed - in fact my comments about them are pretty repetitive - but I think having nights of mostly unbroken sleep and their being able to do so much independently makes life a lot easier. It's going to be very strange going back to having a newborn and then a toddler again: part of me doesn't really want to, though it's too late now!
Time for me to go to sleep. That's Christmas Day over for another year: and next year we will have an almost-one-year-old with us. Once we had one child we hoped for, and got, a second quite quickly: a third is an unexpected bonus.
They say children change your life. In the almost 10 years since I turned 40 mine has changed beyond what I ever imagined.
Boxing Day:
Well, the big day is over, the children are still excitable but tired and emotional as well, and we're now beginning to clear up the countless presents left strewn around our currently untidy sitting room (normally the children are not allowed to take toys etc. in there and it's our peaceful room for reading/playing the piano/listening to music: our oasis of calm. At Christmas it is the focus of attention, with the presents under the tree, the fire burning, and the joy of the children as they open one engrossing present after the next).
We all seem to have gone down with headaches, which is perhaps not surprising. Daughter is making a lot of noise about not being able to go to sleep: and yet I know she's incredibly tired. They have been eating rubbish the last few days (despite our attempts to get vegetables into them: somehow chocolate has more appeal - funny that....) and not had enough fresh air and exercise. I tried to get them to walk all the way around Talkin Tarn yesterday but they were getting cold: Son had worn a pair of woollen gloves which he then swept snow off seats with (i.e. getting his gloves wet and cold) and Daughter I think just had not worn enough clothes. I was lovely and warm in my ski gloves, a new hat from Husband, new boots from Husband, and Husband's Rab jacket (waterproof outer and fleece lined): the only part of me which was even remotely cold was my thighs due to having a slightly thin skirt on, but that wasn't a problem so long as I kept moving. I do so look forward to being normal size again and wearing my fleecy lined trousers or even salopettes... I am assuming of course that I do get back to my normal size.
I look even more like Mr. Greedy than I did a few weeks ago, I think. I feel a bit like a rather large ship which is about to be launched - though I doubt I'd float. The baby seems to have turned round sideways again as well so I am definitely not the 'torpedo' shape which always looks so much more ready for birth than the Mr. Greedy shape.
We went to a party this afternoon at the house of some new friends - parents from Daughter's class at school. He works at the Infirmary (and will be my anaethetist on Friday so long as he hasn't gone down with flu) and other people there included his family and people who live near them who also work at the infirmary: including a fellow blogger, whose blog I really must mention as it has the most beautiful photos and photo collages in it. I hope she won't mind if I recommend it here: http://www.helen-likeitorlumpit.blogspot.com/: definitely worth a look if only for the photos, and not half so wordy as mine.
Daughter is whingeing about not being able to get to sleep so I'd better go to hit her around the head (I mean, of course, to give her a cuddle). Son has gone to bed, as normal, like an angel. I was writing a paper diary in bed yesterday (one day I may work out how to cut and paste it into this blog) and looking back over the years I've kept it, the same comments about the children's characters and their bedtime behaviour are repeated time and time again!
Daughter (tearfully & dramatically) 'ohhh, I just can't get to sleep.... I really want to get to sleep.... I'll never get any sleep... could somebody help me'... etc. etc.
Good night!
Friday, 24 December 2010
CHRISTMAS EVE
The snow has been minimal up here but it's been really cold and the frost still looks lovely: tonight is another clear, cold night so the world will remain white tomorrow.
It's been quite a busy week: not only having the children home from school but then I went out to dinner on Tuesday night (with Husband and our Very Best Friends up here); Wednesday night (with 'the girls') and we had a party last night. I slept badly last night and woke up feeling shattered today: and have also felt nauseous for most of today as well. No going to midnight mass for me I'm afraid, despite my intentions to (I mean to every year, even years when I'm not pregnant): I'm off to bed shortly.
Our party yesterday went really well and I think everybody enjoyed it. There were about 10 or 12 children aged between 0 and 12 running around madly (well, the 12-year-old didn't) and adults ranging from people in their 30s to people past retirement age: so a real mix, which was great. Pregnant Friend C. came along, and I was really pleased to see her because she's been ill recently and I've been worried about her: she's still got a bit of a cough but seemed better. She's lost about 7lb but I'm sure the baby has been ensuring that it's been getting all it needs. She thinks she may be having a girl but she's not sure: I think she is as well but that's only because I'd really like her to! She's due about a month or slightly less after me, so it's been nice to have someone to share pregnancy stories with as well.
I'm a little worried that The Little Guy isn't moving enough: he's moving but not very much: but on the other hand he's been pretty active until the last day or so.
We had the second year of a Family Tradition (or what Husband wants to be a Family Tradition) and went to Keswick today: we were going to stop in Ambleside as well but didn't really need to and it was getting late by then anyway. To go to Keswick we went over Caldbeck Fell, which is beautiful at any time of the year but at the moment looked particularly strikingly white: it made me think of Norway, although admittedly would have been even more like it if it had 6' of snow either side of the road! But there was something about the openness and looking over towards the snow-clad hills.
In Keswick we went in Booths - where a lady who was a complete stranger came up to me in the cafe and said how lovely she thought I looked with my green jumper and pale pink scarf. I'd been feeling pretty washed-out so that perked me up a bit. We then went up to Old Friars sweetshop ('Old Scabbers' as Daughter calls it) and then in Java chocolate (they have a chocolate fountain in the window and do chocolate-coated kebabs. The children's faces were covered, especially as someone told Son to lick his plate, which he did....).
In Keswick there was a clock counting down to the New Year: 7 days and 9 hours, roughly, while we were there. So about 7 days until the birth of no.3! I do hope he's going to be OK.
We then went on to Windermere, via Ambleside. I felt so nauseous in the back of Husband's car, which has very hard suspension, that I was in tears at one point. We just stopped at Booths and then drove back via Kendal and Tebay, joining the M6 at Tebay. Daughter fell asleep in the back of the car after her VERY late night last night and I shut my eyes and relaxed: by the time I got home I felt a bit reinvigorated. I had very nearly not gone out with them for the day and whilst I'm glad on the whole I did, I was a bit of a wet blanket.
'They' (Husband, his Brother and Brother's-wife-to-be) are now playing rocky music quite loudly downstairs and I'm going to be a real party pooper and go down and ask them to turn it down in a moment. The thumpy bass is a bit too thumpy.
I've just finished reading The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England, which I can highly recommend. A friend gave it to Husband for his 'half way to 70' birthday earlier this year, and I borrowed it from him. It's not full of facts and figures but of a real flavour of what life may have been like then. It's fascinating but I wouldn't have wanted to have lived then!
8.45 and time for both the children and me to go to bed: I must remember Stockings!
It's been quite a busy week: not only having the children home from school but then I went out to dinner on Tuesday night (with Husband and our Very Best Friends up here); Wednesday night (with 'the girls') and we had a party last night. I slept badly last night and woke up feeling shattered today: and have also felt nauseous for most of today as well. No going to midnight mass for me I'm afraid, despite my intentions to (I mean to every year, even years when I'm not pregnant): I'm off to bed shortly.
Our party yesterday went really well and I think everybody enjoyed it. There were about 10 or 12 children aged between 0 and 12 running around madly (well, the 12-year-old didn't) and adults ranging from people in their 30s to people past retirement age: so a real mix, which was great. Pregnant Friend C. came along, and I was really pleased to see her because she's been ill recently and I've been worried about her: she's still got a bit of a cough but seemed better. She's lost about 7lb but I'm sure the baby has been ensuring that it's been getting all it needs. She thinks she may be having a girl but she's not sure: I think she is as well but that's only because I'd really like her to! She's due about a month or slightly less after me, so it's been nice to have someone to share pregnancy stories with as well.
I'm a little worried that The Little Guy isn't moving enough: he's moving but not very much: but on the other hand he's been pretty active until the last day or so.
We had the second year of a Family Tradition (or what Husband wants to be a Family Tradition) and went to Keswick today: we were going to stop in Ambleside as well but didn't really need to and it was getting late by then anyway. To go to Keswick we went over Caldbeck Fell, which is beautiful at any time of the year but at the moment looked particularly strikingly white: it made me think of Norway, although admittedly would have been even more like it if it had 6' of snow either side of the road! But there was something about the openness and looking over towards the snow-clad hills.
In Keswick we went in Booths - where a lady who was a complete stranger came up to me in the cafe and said how lovely she thought I looked with my green jumper and pale pink scarf. I'd been feeling pretty washed-out so that perked me up a bit. We then went up to Old Friars sweetshop ('Old Scabbers' as Daughter calls it) and then in Java chocolate (they have a chocolate fountain in the window and do chocolate-coated kebabs. The children's faces were covered, especially as someone told Son to lick his plate, which he did....).
In Keswick there was a clock counting down to the New Year: 7 days and 9 hours, roughly, while we were there. So about 7 days until the birth of no.3! I do hope he's going to be OK.
We then went on to Windermere, via Ambleside. I felt so nauseous in the back of Husband's car, which has very hard suspension, that I was in tears at one point. We just stopped at Booths and then drove back via Kendal and Tebay, joining the M6 at Tebay. Daughter fell asleep in the back of the car after her VERY late night last night and I shut my eyes and relaxed: by the time I got home I felt a bit reinvigorated. I had very nearly not gone out with them for the day and whilst I'm glad on the whole I did, I was a bit of a wet blanket.
'They' (Husband, his Brother and Brother's-wife-to-be) are now playing rocky music quite loudly downstairs and I'm going to be a real party pooper and go down and ask them to turn it down in a moment. The thumpy bass is a bit too thumpy.
I've just finished reading The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England, which I can highly recommend. A friend gave it to Husband for his 'half way to 70' birthday earlier this year, and I borrowed it from him. It's not full of facts and figures but of a real flavour of what life may have been like then. It's fascinating but I wouldn't have wanted to have lived then!
8.45 and time for both the children and me to go to bed: I must remember Stockings!
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY(S)
Thinking of skiing yesterday got me musing further. I wrote in one of my early blogs about how I felt I was finally 'getting my life back': feeling fitter, feeling that the children needed me less - etc. Then of course I found out I was pregnant.....
I remember being pregnant with Son, then the one which miscarried, then with Daughter: all in quick succession with a 6-month gap between the first two of those pregnancies and a 6-week gap between the miscarriage and becoming pregnant with Daughter. I remember feeling that I had been almost permanently pregnant for years: yesterday I thought that whilst this current pregnancy seems to have passed quickly, I shall be back at the stage of feeling tired and with limited time (I think) for exercise and for myself.
But reading A Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England made me think again. Thank goodness for contraception, and for good health which means that a woman no longer needs to be primarily a child-bearing machine year in and year out. Just imagine if I had been as fertile then as I appear to be now, and had started having children at, say, age 18 (assuming I had not died in childbirth of course): then I really would have felt permanently pregnant and then there really was 'no life' beyond children - not until you passed your child-bearing years, at least. No wonder sexism was so rife: women didn't get a chance, on the whole, to have 'careers' and their own interests outside the home. That's not to say there weren't exceptions, but they were few and far between.
Talking of outside interests, I've just had my Grade 7 Singing results - I got 128, which is a Merit - and only 2 marks off a distinction. So not bad, and my University 'singing ghost' is finally at rest: especially considering the complimentary comments that the examiner made about my voice.
Thank goodness for living in the 21st Century!
I remember being pregnant with Son, then the one which miscarried, then with Daughter: all in quick succession with a 6-month gap between the first two of those pregnancies and a 6-week gap between the miscarriage and becoming pregnant with Daughter. I remember feeling that I had been almost permanently pregnant for years: yesterday I thought that whilst this current pregnancy seems to have passed quickly, I shall be back at the stage of feeling tired and with limited time (I think) for exercise and for myself.
But reading A Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England made me think again. Thank goodness for contraception, and for good health which means that a woman no longer needs to be primarily a child-bearing machine year in and year out. Just imagine if I had been as fertile then as I appear to be now, and had started having children at, say, age 18 (assuming I had not died in childbirth of course): then I really would have felt permanently pregnant and then there really was 'no life' beyond children - not until you passed your child-bearing years, at least. No wonder sexism was so rife: women didn't get a chance, on the whole, to have 'careers' and their own interests outside the home. That's not to say there weren't exceptions, but they were few and far between.
Talking of outside interests, I've just had my Grade 7 Singing results - I got 128, which is a Merit - and only 2 marks off a distinction. So not bad, and my University 'singing ghost' is finally at rest: especially considering the complimentary comments that the examiner made about my voice.
Thank goodness for living in the 21st Century!
Monday, 20 December 2010
PLAYTIME
It was so cold yesterday morning, and I was a bit tired, and I couldn't face taking the children swimming: getting undressed and dressed in a cold changing room. That's at least two or three times I've told them I'll take them swimming and then reneged on my promise. Son in particular was about to get really upset, until Husband said we'd go shopping to spend the money my Grandmother sent us and to get Son a Puffle: which seems to be the latest just-in-time-for-Christmas-separate-you-from-your-money craze from Disney. In fact I was somewhat appalled when Son also admitted that one of the reasons he no longer wishes to go to Drama on a Thursday after school is because he wants to be able to go online to 'Penguin Club' and meet up with his friends. Hmmm....
That, and the fact that he spent his share of the money from my Grandmother on a Space Lander or something (a Warhammer 40k model vehicle), is reminiscent of Husband's interest in Warhammer as a boy and to World of Warcraft... though to be fair we were probably both slightly addicted to World of Warcraft at one point. Like Father, like Son....
And like Mother, like Daughter. I don't know at what age my stage-struckedness started, but Daughter's appears to have just commenced. We had Guest Passes for the Pantomime (Sleeping Beauty) at the Sands, Carlisle, yesterday evening and at several points throughout the show she turned to grin at me, and was jigging away to some of the songs. On the way home in the car she told me she wanted to be on the stage - before falling asleep. I would have no objections to her going on the stage so long as she gets a good education first and so long as she is pragmatic enough to realise that she may need to do more mundane work whilst 'resting', or to supplement her income. Personally I think she's more likely to be a singer than an actress, but who knows.
We woke up to temperatures of -8 or so this morning, and headed out to Penrith Pirates. I'm not really that fond of it but we were going for lunch at my former workplace, so it made sense to go there. As luck would have it we bumped into Stone Eden holiday club, which meant that Daughter got to see a couple of her friends, one of whom is also a friend of Son's.
We then headed to my former office in time for a bring and share lunch. It was really nice to see everyone, including L. who had a baby on New Year's Day last year, and who brought her nearly-one-year-old daughter with her. I hadn't seen her since just before she went on maternity leave, and motherhood is obviously agreeing with her: it was also good to be reminded what I'll be going through in about a year's time! One- and two- year olds are dead cute, even if they are hard work in that you need to keep an eye on them all the time: and I love seeing their development from non-walking non-talking beings to little people who start to develop a real mind of their own as soon as they can go where they want rather than where you choose to plonk them.
We then drove back via Lazonby and Kirkoswald to Brampton. It was far snowier further south than at this northernmost end of the Pennines, and looked lovely: thick enough snow to be a dense, bright white in colour: trees glistening as if they had been painted with white glitter paint: and a sun shining from a coldly pale blue sky. I fancied being out on my bike cycling through it, though I know in reality that my fingers and toes would have been unbearably cold and that in fact the 20 or 30 miles it is by that route from Penrith to Brampton would have become a grind rather than enjoyable. Even to be out walking would be good though: it's so icy I'm being cautious and not risking going out at the moment lest I fall over: and also because I don't really have any clothes that fit me well enough to keep me really warm!
The children are in the bath and need to get out, and the soup's cooking and needs to be eaten: so I shall stop now. I wish I had been able to take a photo as I drove back today but I'm sure there are plenty of similar scenes that anyone reading this can conjure up!
That, and the fact that he spent his share of the money from my Grandmother on a Space Lander or something (a Warhammer 40k model vehicle), is reminiscent of Husband's interest in Warhammer as a boy and to World of Warcraft... though to be fair we were probably both slightly addicted to World of Warcraft at one point. Like Father, like Son....
And like Mother, like Daughter. I don't know at what age my stage-struckedness started, but Daughter's appears to have just commenced. We had Guest Passes for the Pantomime (Sleeping Beauty) at the Sands, Carlisle, yesterday evening and at several points throughout the show she turned to grin at me, and was jigging away to some of the songs. On the way home in the car she told me she wanted to be on the stage - before falling asleep. I would have no objections to her going on the stage so long as she gets a good education first and so long as she is pragmatic enough to realise that she may need to do more mundane work whilst 'resting', or to supplement her income. Personally I think she's more likely to be a singer than an actress, but who knows.
We woke up to temperatures of -8 or so this morning, and headed out to Penrith Pirates. I'm not really that fond of it but we were going for lunch at my former workplace, so it made sense to go there. As luck would have it we bumped into Stone Eden holiday club, which meant that Daughter got to see a couple of her friends, one of whom is also a friend of Son's.
We then headed to my former office in time for a bring and share lunch. It was really nice to see everyone, including L. who had a baby on New Year's Day last year, and who brought her nearly-one-year-old daughter with her. I hadn't seen her since just before she went on maternity leave, and motherhood is obviously agreeing with her: it was also good to be reminded what I'll be going through in about a year's time! One- and two- year olds are dead cute, even if they are hard work in that you need to keep an eye on them all the time: and I love seeing their development from non-walking non-talking beings to little people who start to develop a real mind of their own as soon as they can go where they want rather than where you choose to plonk them.
We then drove back via Lazonby and Kirkoswald to Brampton. It was far snowier further south than at this northernmost end of the Pennines, and looked lovely: thick enough snow to be a dense, bright white in colour: trees glistening as if they had been painted with white glitter paint: and a sun shining from a coldly pale blue sky. I fancied being out on my bike cycling through it, though I know in reality that my fingers and toes would have been unbearably cold and that in fact the 20 or 30 miles it is by that route from Penrith to Brampton would have become a grind rather than enjoyable. Even to be out walking would be good though: it's so icy I'm being cautious and not risking going out at the moment lest I fall over: and also because I don't really have any clothes that fit me well enough to keep me really warm!
The children are in the bath and need to get out, and the soup's cooking and needs to be eaten: so I shall stop now. I wish I had been able to take a photo as I drove back today but I'm sure there are plenty of similar scenes that anyone reading this can conjure up!
Sunday, 19 December 2010
SNOW: BUT NOT FOR US
It would appear that we are currently in a 'temperate' (ha ha) belt with no snow: there have been problems in Scotland and then south of us in the Midlands and the South, but the only problem here is cold temperatures and hence ice. At one point my in-laws were telling us that the forecast for our area for Wednesday night was -21, but having looked at the forecast this morning it's now saying -2: quite a difference, fortunately. 'Light snow' is forecast for Thursday: last time the forecast stated 'light snow' we got about 15cm.
Carlisle appeared to have had a sprinkling of snow which we missed in Brampton, but a dusting was all it was. The pavements were a bit icy though and I was careful walking around. It would be a pity to have got to almost 38 weeks of pregnancy and then for something to go wrong because I fell over.
The baby feels really low. He has done all along really: I've been far more conscious of my bladder with this pregnancy than I remember being with either of the others, but at the moment with the cold air as well I constantly feel as if I want to go to the loo. He's also squirming around quite vigorously still, in a pushing/shoving sort of way: besides the fact that I look like Mr. Greedy in profile, my stomach is then sometimes quite lop-sided when the baby sticks his bottom out on one side or the other. It's all very odd but I'm sure I'll rapidly forget what being pregnant felt like once he's here. Less than two weeks to go, which is a little daunting: it's so long since I last had a newborn baby to deal with, and of course I didn't actually expect to have to do so ever again.
Talking of looking after small creatures, one of the ferrets is living in the utility room at the moment. In some ways I hate it. There is ferret poo over the floor - mostly on newspaper (and it turns my stomach clearing it up, partly as I feel nauseous at the moment anyway) - and dregs of food, but also it limits my access to the heating control, the washing machine and the hoover (which is badly needed as the dining room carpet can only cope with my children for a day or two before needing a major clean-up). However Harry has now been to the vet's about 3 times about his manky tail and Husband says that the tendons are showing. He's on his second lot of antibiotics and has also had some fungicidal cream. Husband persuaded me to take him to the vet on Wednesday, but I found it quite upsetting as one of the potential scenarious was that he would have had to have been put down. When I started talking to the vet about Harry, I got a bit tearful, and then felt really stupid for having done so.
Harry's fur is now looking better and he's beginning - somewhat belatedly - to put on a winter coat, and he also seems more sprightly: but his tail is still not good (and we're not quite sure whether it's even functioning properly any more, or whether he can feel anything with it). Husband was saying we'd need to take him back to the vet, but I've put my foot down this time: I particularly don't want to take a ferret to be put to sleep who is looking healthier than he was, so any vets visits are going to be made by Husband, not by me (especially as now the children are on holiday I'd have to take them with me). On the other hand I can also understand Husband's point that Harry is only a ferret and that spending hundreds of pounds on him, particularly when we don't have hundreds of pounds at the moment, is an unnecessary expense: especially as we think he may well have been older when we got him about a year ago than anybody realised.
Maddie, our baby and very small ferret, on the other hand, goes from strength to strength. We brought her in yesterday to keep Harry company for a while (apparently ferrets can get depressed if they spend too much time on their own) and she was in a very playful mood and making the funny little noise that ferrets make when they're happy. I'd never seen her so lively and happy before: she seems less afraid of us now, and as Husband said, we also think that she might not have been very healthy when we got her but that now she is. She seems to have a stunted back so she's short (in length) even for a jill, but she's not at all nippy, has a cute little pointy face, and is like a little ball of fur. The only thing she was attacking yesterday was my pair of furry slippers!
Daughter is particularly fond of Maddie and looks on her as her ferret: Son considers Harry to be his, so there are doubtless going to be tears if Harry does get put down. Husband has said we'll get a baby ferret for Son at that point.
I also found out just the other day that Son has started a 'Ferret Club' at school. I think it entails him and his friends playing at being ferrets most play times!
Daughter and I are off to the pantomime of Sleeping Beauty this evening. I feel more inclined to stay at home and read a book or watch a bit of television with Husband (the entire family sat down and watched Edward Scissorhands last night, followed by Monty Python and the Holy Grail - except Daughter fell asleep and I went up to bed feeling sleepy. Apparently Son loved the latter: we had wondered if it might be a bit old for him. It was really nice all snuggling up together while the temperature outside dropped).
We're about to have roast chicken for dinner prior to going out: that lovely roast chicken smell is wafting up the stairs, accompanied by a roast rosemary scent as there was a spray of rosemary on the chicken. Yum!
Carlisle appeared to have had a sprinkling of snow which we missed in Brampton, but a dusting was all it was. The pavements were a bit icy though and I was careful walking around. It would be a pity to have got to almost 38 weeks of pregnancy and then for something to go wrong because I fell over.
The baby feels really low. He has done all along really: I've been far more conscious of my bladder with this pregnancy than I remember being with either of the others, but at the moment with the cold air as well I constantly feel as if I want to go to the loo. He's also squirming around quite vigorously still, in a pushing/shoving sort of way: besides the fact that I look like Mr. Greedy in profile, my stomach is then sometimes quite lop-sided when the baby sticks his bottom out on one side or the other. It's all very odd but I'm sure I'll rapidly forget what being pregnant felt like once he's here. Less than two weeks to go, which is a little daunting: it's so long since I last had a newborn baby to deal with, and of course I didn't actually expect to have to do so ever again.
Talking of looking after small creatures, one of the ferrets is living in the utility room at the moment. In some ways I hate it. There is ferret poo over the floor - mostly on newspaper (and it turns my stomach clearing it up, partly as I feel nauseous at the moment anyway) - and dregs of food, but also it limits my access to the heating control, the washing machine and the hoover (which is badly needed as the dining room carpet can only cope with my children for a day or two before needing a major clean-up). However Harry has now been to the vet's about 3 times about his manky tail and Husband says that the tendons are showing. He's on his second lot of antibiotics and has also had some fungicidal cream. Husband persuaded me to take him to the vet on Wednesday, but I found it quite upsetting as one of the potential scenarious was that he would have had to have been put down. When I started talking to the vet about Harry, I got a bit tearful, and then felt really stupid for having done so.
Harry's fur is now looking better and he's beginning - somewhat belatedly - to put on a winter coat, and he also seems more sprightly: but his tail is still not good (and we're not quite sure whether it's even functioning properly any more, or whether he can feel anything with it). Husband was saying we'd need to take him back to the vet, but I've put my foot down this time: I particularly don't want to take a ferret to be put to sleep who is looking healthier than he was, so any vets visits are going to be made by Husband, not by me (especially as now the children are on holiday I'd have to take them with me). On the other hand I can also understand Husband's point that Harry is only a ferret and that spending hundreds of pounds on him, particularly when we don't have hundreds of pounds at the moment, is an unnecessary expense: especially as we think he may well have been older when we got him about a year ago than anybody realised.
Maddie, our baby and very small ferret, on the other hand, goes from strength to strength. We brought her in yesterday to keep Harry company for a while (apparently ferrets can get depressed if they spend too much time on their own) and she was in a very playful mood and making the funny little noise that ferrets make when they're happy. I'd never seen her so lively and happy before: she seems less afraid of us now, and as Husband said, we also think that she might not have been very healthy when we got her but that now she is. She seems to have a stunted back so she's short (in length) even for a jill, but she's not at all nippy, has a cute little pointy face, and is like a little ball of fur. The only thing she was attacking yesterday was my pair of furry slippers!
Daughter is particularly fond of Maddie and looks on her as her ferret: Son considers Harry to be his, so there are doubtless going to be tears if Harry does get put down. Husband has said we'll get a baby ferret for Son at that point.
I also found out just the other day that Son has started a 'Ferret Club' at school. I think it entails him and his friends playing at being ferrets most play times!
Daughter and I are off to the pantomime of Sleeping Beauty this evening. I feel more inclined to stay at home and read a book or watch a bit of television with Husband (the entire family sat down and watched Edward Scissorhands last night, followed by Monty Python and the Holy Grail - except Daughter fell asleep and I went up to bed feeling sleepy. Apparently Son loved the latter: we had wondered if it might be a bit old for him. It was really nice all snuggling up together while the temperature outside dropped).
We're about to have roast chicken for dinner prior to going out: that lovely roast chicken smell is wafting up the stairs, accompanied by a roast rosemary scent as there was a spray of rosemary on the chicken. Yum!
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