FFS Friday/Things I Know - Hospital Woes

It’s been a massive week, what with Boo’s operation on Tuesday and all – left me plenty to FFS about, and I now know a few new things, too!

My mother met us at 5.30 on Tuesday morning so we could be at the hospital by 7.30. This meant I was awake at 4.45am. FFS

Boo was so keyed up about everything that she didn’t sleep. Guess who went Mum’s car for the 2-hour trip? No FFS

Having no-one in the car meant I could listen to podcasts and concentrate on driving in the pea-soup fog without ‘Mummy….’ No FFS

There was mild panic at the hospital when I was convinced I’d left my wallet at home. FFS

Boo and her cat 'Didero' wrapped up in her blankie

 

I hadn’t. My handbag had just eaten it. FFS

The nurses on the ward were just lovely to us, and made Boo feel really special. I’d taken a lot of care to make sure she wasn’t apprehensive beforehand, and they were gems about perpetuating this. No FFS

I know, without a doubt in my mind, that Paediatric nurses are a special breed of amazing.

Pre-Op

I was allowed to go with Boo when she was anaesthetised, and watching her little head loll as she went under was a bit of a shock. Actually, a lot of a shock. I burst into tears. FFS

Turns out a tonsillectomy only takes about 20 minutes. I’d barely started reading my book when they were fetching me to go into recovery. No FFS 

At least I’d stayed in the waiting room. One mother had the impression it was a 1.5hour procedure and left to get a coffee. FFS 

Her little Miss 3 was beside herself when I got into recovery. FFS

Boo, on the other hand, took one look at me and went back to sleep…Not sure if this is a FFS or not!

She smashed an icy pole and charmed the nurses before we went back to the ward.

My brave girl.

I know that my Boo is a freakin’ superstar. Not one tear out of her during the scary bits!

When we got back to the ward, Boo realised there was now a drip in her hand. FFS

She said it was hurting, and the nurses told her it wasn’t really that painful. FFS

I spend a fair bit of time in hospital. I know this isn’t quite true. Canulation hurts like a MOFO, no matter what they say. It’s not ‘just an inconvenience’, it’s a piece of plastic hanging out of your hand! FFS

Mum put Boo to rights again by handing over the iPad while she left to do some shopping. No FFS

Cuddles with Gran

I thought I’d try napping while Mum was gone, but the girl in the bed opposite hadn’t handled her operation well and proceeded to throw up and cry loudly for the next hour. FFS

Please don’t think me cold-hearted, I felt for her but I was beyond tired by this point! FFS

Boo intermittently slept, played and hazarded eating until about 6pm when my Mum left. The nurses decided that is was time for Boo to get out of her surgical robe and into her PJ’s.

I know how hard it is to get PJ’s on with a canula in. Boo didn’t. 

Even with a nurse and me helping, she managed to pull it out of her hand. FFS

I knew this before I saw it, she made a hideous gasping sound and burst into tears. FFS

Cue blood. Quite a lot of blood. FFS

She crawled up on me like a koala for cuddles. We hadn’t yet got her PJ pants on. FFS

It took me 15 minutes to calm her down, because she’d heard the nurse say it might have to go back in. FFS

The nurse got hold of a doctor and managed to make an agreement that if Boo drank plenty we wouldn’t need it back in. No FFS

I know how hard it is to get Boo to drink when she doesn’t want to, so we made a plan. She’d be allowed to watch a movie from the ward’s DVD library if she drank half a bottle of water before bed.

I know that movies can fix anything.

Boo slept through the night. I didn’t. FFS

The little girl across from us was awake hourly, screaming and sobbing. Everytime she woke, I was convinced it was Boo so I’d sit bolt-upright in bed panicking. FFS

Not one single time was it her. FFS

She barely woke when the nurses came to do her obs. No FFS

Suffice to say, by the time Mum rang at 6am to say she was running late, I was a wreck. FFS

Boo woke up at 7.30 am sooky and sore. FFS

She didn’t want to eat breakfast, but if she didn’t we weren’t allowed to go home. FFS

Mum got her to eat half a piece of toast. I maintain getting a little girl who just had her tonsils removed to eat toast is just plain mean. FFS

We were allowed to leave in the morning. No FFS

Mum took Boo, so I detoured past our house for a quick shower before I had to get Diddy from my grandparents. No FFS

Husbeast had smothered the fire (our only heat) with a gigantic log, so the house was effing FREEZING. FFS!

Diddy was a snotty, teething and sick mess when I picked her up. FFS

This is what I came home to. FFS

I know that two sick kids amounts to 18 times the work of one. FFS

Thanks again for joining me! I'm linking up with Sarah for FFS Friday at Move Fuel Love, Ann for Things I Know at Help!! I'm Stuck, and Grace for Flog Yo' Blog Friday at With Some Grace. 

FFS Friday: Catch-Up Edition

I’m back!! Again... I swear, I do love to blog, but things have been hectic in disgusting ways so getting at the computer has been impossible. But here I am, just in time for a catch-up FFS, going out in solidarity with the beautiful Sarah at Dear Baby G.

Strap yourselves in, it’s a big’un!

Diddy is still calling my uterus home... No FFS

Offense is being taken at sharing personal space with my internal organs. She’s waged war against them...FFS

I’m 36 weeks. They told me I’d maybe last until 35 weeks, so I’m getting uncomfortable and impatient...FFS

I’m still Braxton Hicksing away for a good part of every day....FFS

I tell ya, with all these ‘practice’ contractions, my uterus better be well-rehearsed for a drama free birth...FFS

Despite measuring ‘small for my dates’ from the outside, an ultrasound this week shows that Diddy is, in fact, HUMUNGUS...FFS

I’m going to give birth to freaking Sasquatch... FFS

Boo (O) has gone from not wanting to know me straight into abandonment issues...FFS

Everytime I get frustrated at her, she bursts into tears and declares ‘you don’t like me anymore, you’re going to leave me!’...FFS

Not sure if being manipulated or...FFS

We have an enrolment interview next week with the local Catholic school...No FFS

I’m not sure I’m ready to have a kid in school...FFS

I’ve checked out of parenting Bozo (L)...FFS

This might sound harsh on 18 different levels, but his mother is using him as a means of manipulating myself and his father...FFS

She refuses to buy him new clothes for her house, and I’m too tired and pregnant to cope with arguing that it’s not our responsibility to outfit him when he’s under her roof...FFS

Beyond that, his mother and grandmother don’t make him do anything for himself, and his personal autonomy is diminishing rapidly...FFS

The kid is 10 and can’t wash himself properly....FFS

I’ve had to check out in self-defence or my brain will explode from the frustration...FFS

Husbeast is still unemployed...FFS

In a way, this is a positive. There’s no question that he’ll be able to come to hospital with me no matter the time of day or night...FFS

However, keeping our heads above water on welfare payments is getting to be exhausting...FFS

I’ve gotten very resourceful with cheap food...No FFS

But the family car (which is as old as I am) probably only has another 6 good months in it...FFS

Husbeast has finally gotten the hint that I'm not moving and started doing the cooking and cleaning I'm no longer mobile enough to manage... No FFS

BUT

Did I mention I’m STILL pregnant? FFS

Ohh I missed this. I’m sorry, Sanity-Seekers, I’ll never leave you for this long again!!

FFS Friday: Preemies and Withheld Love

Friday’s here again!! We know what Friday means, right boys and girls? Time for Mummy to whinge the day away with Dear Baby G!! Get excited!

Cleaned my house Sunday to prepare for an influx of visitors for an Intimo party... cleaned so hardcore I knocked the wind out of myself...FFS

Halfway through the party, I started to have Braxton Hicks... strong, uncomfortable ones... FFS

Rode them out all through Sunday night and Monday before finally heading to the hospital...FFS

Diddy is perfectly healthy and willing to stay inside for at least another week or two...No FFS!!

But I feel like a nufty for not being able to endure ‘Braxton Hicks’ without the assistance of paramedics...FFS

BUT THEY HURT...FFS

O still treats me as someone who is only there to feed and care for her between visits to her Daddy’s...FFS

I know she loves her Daddy, but I wish she’d love me a little sometimes, too...FFS

I’m getting paranoid about a 4 year old withholding affection...FFS

Sneaky mini mofo has me conned into ANYTHING to make sure she loves me just as much as Daddy...FFS

I’ve chatted with her Dad about it... he LAUGHED...FFS

Disclaimer: I honestly adore how much O loves her Daddy, and how much he loves her. I'm just whinging because it's what I do!!

 

After resting in an effort to stop Diddy from making an untimely entrance into this world, all the good cleaning I did Sunday is rapidly unravelling...FFS

And to top it off, I woke up LEAKING at 3am....I’m 28 weeks. It’s too early!!! FFS!!!

So what's got you a little FFS-y this week? 

I want my solitude back!!

I’ve been suffering pretty badly from depression lately. Normally, I don’t say that I ‘suffer’ from anything, but for the past few weeks, my absence has come down to definite suffering. 

 

I mentioned a while back that I’m self-managed. I have been for several years. Every so often, the doctor and I agree to a course of ‘happy pills’ when I’ve had a bad few days, but I end up grinding my teeth to nubs, or completely characterless, or throwing furniture at people who annoy me, and we quietly agree that I go back to self-management and ride the bad day waves when they come.

However, in case I haven’t managed to mention it a time or seven, I’m ever so slightly pregnant at the moment. Yep, I’m 17 weeks in, and hormonal like you wouldn’t believe. I don’t remember there being so many bad days in a long, long time. Possibly because there haven’t been since my last pregnancy. 

However, last time I was pregnant, I didn’t have a 4-year-old daughter with an immense love for the sound of her own voice and no off switch. I didn’t have a 9-year-old stepson who, lately, seems incapable of personal autonomy (I’m getting to that, too!). And my partner at the time went out and worked. I could work my way through the bad days on my own, and no one expected human conversation or even smiles from me.

For 3 weeks now, B has been at home. He suffered a pretty nasty scare with his heart at work and as such has joined the ranks of the unemployed whose wives would cheerfully strangle them if we thought we’d cope with the kids on our own. Because B is now home, there is someone for my crankiness, bitterness and anxiety to be aimed at all the time.

 

Before B stopped working, I had O here on my own one day a week, and I could manage to be a Sunshine Mummy for that one day, and there was someone to palm her off to on weekends so I could hide under the bed and snarl at dust bunnies. And because B wasn’t here all the time, I loved and appreciated him when he was. Now, much as I adore him, I’m realising how much I LOVE being alone! I adore watching crappy cooking shows while I pretend I might make that someday. I love the absolute shit out of putting my headphones in, listening to podcasts and not worrying that anyone is going to destroy my rhythm while I clean, or cook, or pretend to be useful. I miss solitude. I miss stretches of silence where it’s just me and my thoughts.

Because of this turn of events, what might otherwise have been well-managed depression, anxiety and anger isn’t getting the time it needs to work out, because I can’t dance around the house to stupid Icona Pop songs, and I can’t scream at the top of my lungs. Without my solitude, I’m drowning in my own depressive thoughts. And, here’s the kicker, I can’t medicate!! I can’t do anything except hope to god I don’t snap and end up in a lovely padded room with a jacket that makes me give myself cuddles!

I love my husband. I love my kids. I’m so lucky and grateful to be surrounded by a loving, caring family, and I adore looking after them. But sometimes all I want is to be left alone.

Is that so wrong?

Birthday Party Planning Hell

Every year, I put myself through it. Every year I swear I won’t do it again then sometime around October O starts using it as leverage or I bring it up as bribery and I’m back in Birthday Party Planning Hell.

Me whenever I realise it's time for party planning.
Image Source

This year, O’s realisation that she was due a birthday party came tandem to the start of wedding planning back in September. She heard the word ‘January’ and something in her mind went ‘wait a sec, that sounds familiar...why do I know that word? Wait – BIRTHDAY’ and out of her mouth came ‘Mummy I’m having a birthday party this year.’ No please can I, no I would really like. O tells me what things she will be involved in, because asking leaves room for Mummy to say no. She’s a tiny evil genius.

Don't let the face fool you. She's a tiny dictator.

Though her birthday actually falls on the 20^th, this was 1 week and 1 day after the wedding, so knowing not much recuperation time would present itself, I arranged family celebrations for the actual day, and her party with kinder friends and mothers who are not family and therefore free to judge me and my house of bedlam until the following Sunday, the 27^th. Knowing that this was the day after Australia Day, and the day before the public holiday Monday, I felt OK knowing people would be coming on a Sunday afternoon, and I’d have B to myself all day Saturday to help with cleaning and setup. Genius, Tara. (note: this did not happen. Nor did help with post party cleanup Monday. We watched Fast & Furious movies ALL DAY)

So much better than post-party cleanup.

Of course, as we all know, the bedrest mandate came, and so I haven’t been in any position to do the things one would expect during party prep. Clean, shop, devise games, give a crap. I managed a trip to the discount store Wednesday before to get plates, cups, banners (which weren’t used) and party-bag fixings. I hate putting lollies in a goodie bag, so I bought badges, swirly straws, fairy wands, glittery tattoos and other treats, then tossed in a Chupa Chup each, because I had them anyway (yes, I’m a sugar fiend. Judge not!)

Then I crashed. I spent the next two days lying on the couch, aware that cleaning and planning needed to happen, but secure in the knowledge that our inflatable pool and extensive Disney movie collection would provide the entertainment, so all I needed was a clean house and snacks. Genius moment number two came weeks earlier, when I sent out invitations to a 3.30pm birthday party, ensuring I would need to produce snacks ONLY, not a main meal.

By 2pm Saturday, very little cleaning had happened, and the only prep was a mental list of party snack small kids like (which I could be bothered preparing). Despite O requesting various cakes for the past 4 months – Peppa Pig, Minnie Mouse, Barbie, Tinkerbell and Lightning McQueen, nothing to do with flavours – I knew we didn’t have the funds and I didn’t have the energy to make an epic character cake (storebought or homemade) happen this year. I wanted to, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t an option. Despite my tears over this realisation, B took it in his stride and discussed with O how much she’d love a rainbow swirly cake instead. Yes, she agreed, she would like that (score one for parental coercion!) And so we planned a vanilla cake with swirled colours. Despite B’s assertion that he would make the cake, Mummy sensibility realised this was a pipe dream, and added it to my mental list of ‘Shit to do on Party Day’.

Epic cakemix of epicness. Pre-baking.

Surprisingly, I woke up reasonably energised and managed to do everything that had to be done, including creating an EPIC BIRTHDAY CAKE! 2-layer rainbow marble cake with blue semisweet whipped cream in the centre and pink and neon green frosting on the top. A freaking mummy masterpiece never to be surpassed. Not even ashamed to admit that I used the 73c Woolworths Vanilla Cake mixes.

A slice of awesomeness. My amazing cake skillz.
Excuse the crap photo. My exhaustion had kicked in and I was a little shaky with a cameraphone.

The party itself was lovely. 2 of the 6 kinder friends invited came, a decent turnout considering the long weekend. O’s bestest out-of-kindy friend A came also. This was kind of a given, considering her mummy is my best mummy friend, S. I only ended up putting out half the snacks because MummyBrain consumed all my memories of other food, and there were a few small jealousy incidents among girls not used to sharing O (one from kinder, the other not), but it was a great party and O had a blast. 

Now that it’s done, there shall be no more event planning for Mummy for awhile. I’m planning to ignore my own birthday on Friday and see if B manages to make something special of it so I don’t feel hurt at being forgotten. Apart from that, you’ll find me sleeping.

 PLEASE NOTE: Despite not doing a proper cleanup, my house doesn't look like a dump. I just haven't done a few small dishes. I'm not a pig, just tired. And B will do them. Just not right this second.