Welcome To My World
Bathroom fitting still underway and we are all on day 3 without baths. Just heard the floor fitter huffing and puffing and muttering bitterly under his breath.
"Everthing OK?" I asked in as cheery a way as possible. He had disconnected the toilet, stopped the water supply, fitted the none slip flooring and when coming to reconnect the toilet found that it wouldn't flush properly. "Nothing is ever simple" he replied, drearily.
Welcome to my world, Mr None Slip Floor Fitting Man. Daisy, who will tolerate hair combing only after a long soak in a hot bath and a liberal application of good quality hair conditioner, is stumbling about the place like the wild man of Borneo, hair an elaborately shocking fuzz with various pieces of toast and mushed banana clumps hanging from the intricately knotted tresses. Lenny has been spending much of his time digging (without a spade) in the garden, and this year's potato crop could easily be planted underneath his overgrown fingernails (he does not allow them to be trimmed under any circumstances, and it is necessary for me to "stake him out" and wait until he is in a very deep sleep before attempting the task. As he has been sleeping on an average of 4 - 5 hours per night lately, the urgency of his personal grooming has taken a back seat.)
I think a visit to Lightwaves followed by some very long showers is in order tonight.
Certainly nothing is ever simple, this is what life has taught me so far. We have enough water in the pan to allow for one flush today, and the plumber is not answering his calls. The floor fitter has flounced off in a huff now, as though I am personally responsible for the antiquated pipes and the various idiosyncrasies of our 1930's semi.
I'm sure it'll be worth it in the end.......
Published Date:
31/08/2010
Modified Date:
31/08/2010
Return From Exile
We are home! It seems like months that we have been away. It was quite necessary for us to be out of the house while our new, state of the art bathroom with wet-room flooring was being installed, but now; even after two and a half weeks; we return to find it incomplete. Bummer! Ah well, Daisy and Lenny are off with the Wasdale team tomorrow, and we are promised completion by the end of working Tuesday, so that is only one day in the house with workmen and no access to toileting facilities. I have loads of wet wipes and an inexhaustible supply of very large nappies - fear not!
The first week of our holidays we spent in a beautifully converted barn adjoining a farmouse property with full invitation to the run of the extensively cultivated working farm. Sounds idyllic and for the average family I am sure that it would have been.
"Now you can make as much noise as you want" said Mrs Lewis, the absolutely lovely farmers's wife who showed us around the place. She had overseen the renovation of the barn herself, chosen all the furniture and crockery - it was clearly her pride and joy. "No!" I wanted to warn her - "Don't let us in! Recommend a lovely Holiday Inn in the next village - save us all from the pain and humiliation". But as it turned out, the destruction was minimal. Lenny's sleep in that first week, though, was limited to three or four hours per night (I'm not sure why - he seemed happy enough, just very stimulated). Unfortunately, for all of the time that he was awake, one or the other of us had to be awake and supervising, as bathroom and kitchen were not lockable, and with his penchant for running water.......well....lets just say that even with shift sleeping our tempers were running pretty thin after four or five days!
Why is it that to be awoken to the sound of lowing cattle or boastful cockerel is good and enriching, but to be awoken to the sound of incredible humming, or an imprecise renditon of "We Are the Champions" doesn't quite have the same soul-nourishing effect? I cannot really speculate, except to say that however loud the cows and the cockerels are, they are at least not making their "sounds of nature" directly into your auditory canal.
Anyway, from at once sunny and incredibly rainy Pembrokeshire it was up to the Peak district, and the lovely town of Buxton. We were really at home there, with the beautiful parks and breathtaking scenery. We visited a vast series of underground caves, which I thought would be an amazing sensory experience for Daisy and Lenny, but in truth they both objected to the sudden drop in temperature in a very vocal fashion, drowning out the confident tones of the tour guide, and earning us many a disappointed glance. So my little darlings never got to appreciate the stalagmites and the stalagtites; they never got the hear the cold drip drip dripping of the timeless water that filters through the living earth of the Peak District, but from the vantage point of their sunny play area at the foot of the caves, the tour group were treated to the echoing effect of their "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmms" and their "EEEEEEeeeeeeeehs" - all the way through the half hour tour we could hear them - and there were some seriously solid rock structures between
us and them!
But now we are home.
Although the many silver slug trails have been hoovered away to nothingness, the holiday bags remain, unpacked and piled up by my bed, with the promise of many hours of laundry to fill the few remaining few days of the summer holidays.
Roll on next Monday!
See you soon xx
Published Date:
29/08/2010
Modified Date:
29/08/2010
Give and Take
There is no getting away from the fact that my kids are draining. They drain energy and they drain resources. At times they have drained away my enthusiasm for life and my optimism for the future. A hard thing to admit, when you love your family more than life itself...
But they have given me so much back.
I never knew that I was an amazing coper! Fifteen years ago, if I had been asked to pick out a dozen people who would be able to cope with bizzarely difficult circumstances I would never have featured in that chosen twelve. I don't think I would have made an appearance in the top 100, being selfish and spoiled as I was, but my children have taught me that I can be an unlikely hero, of sorts. I am a weak tree that bends with the wind, not the awe inspiring type that you look at and in one moment know its hidden strenth and endurance.
I have met many other people along the way who have, through circumstance, discovered such strengths. Its a bloody eye-opener I can tell you. There are a couple of Mums who attend the meetings of our Carer's Group who I feel could adequately fill Dave and Nick's Priministeral boots and look gorgeous and groomed on a daily basis as an added bonus.
Off on our hols Friday: we found a very simple cottage in South Wales with a beautiful and extensive garden (fully enclosed!) so praying for some nice weather. Will post again in a couple of week! x
Published Date:
11/08/2010
Modified Date:
11/08/2010
vacancy
A vacancy has arisen for a full time body guard and trouble shooter who will keep a notoriously lively eight year old on the straight and narrow.
The successful applicant will receive no wages or holiday entitlement, and will be expected to mop up ridiculous amounts of urine throughout all hours of the day and night. The applicant can expect to be rendered clinically insane by a constant humming noise and by the cruelly loud repetition of "We Are The Champions". An ability to sniff out little lumps of poo on all fours in the manner of a truffle pig is preferred, but not essential.
Ok, feeling the strain a little bit. Respite today; thank God.
xx
Published Date:
09/08/2010
Modified Date:
09/08/2010
sweet tins and kindness
Sometimes it seems that as a nation we Brits tend to veer towards the cynical or the negative angle when discussing even the most innocuous subjects. "Nice day!" - "Won't last though - it never does" - its as though we are pre-wired for moaning and groaning.
My neighbours, though, could easily be forgiven for having the odd moan. What with Lenny out in the back garden from the crack of dawn, humming loudly, singing wordlessly, banging repeatedly, playing the same songs over and over again, sneaking them up to full volume whenever he gets the opportunity, climbing the fences, throwing things over. There might be a serious case for eviction.
"Mary From Over The Fence" came round last night with a Quality Street tin. She thought it might be useful for the kids to keep their little toys in, she said. I told her it would, and thanked her for her thoughtfulness, before hesitantly asking "Do you ever get fed up with the noise that the children make?".
"Do you know, love, I was just saying to Derek the other day.....isn't it lovely to hear Lenny enjoying the fresh air. Ey, he loves that trampoline, that lad does. No, lovey, it does my heart good to hear a happy boy like that!".
It was a simple gesture, just an empty tin and a kind word, but really it meant the world to me.
Published Date:
06/08/2010
Modified Date:
06/08/2010
Stare Off At Rusticos
Daisy spent Saturday night attached to a drip in Pinderfields hospital. She's been up and down with a viral infection for a week, but took a turn for the worse when she refused drinks for twenty four hours and became quite dehydrated and unwell. As usual, the staff there were brill and really listened to my concerns. Diagnosing and treating illness is about a million times more difficult when the patient is unable to provide the relevant details and symptoms have to be noted and logged by someone who really knows the signs. I would never allow one of my children to stay in hospital on their own, I've heard so many horror stories about elderly or disabled people being unintentionally neglected because their medical needs were not fully understood.
Anyway, she had picked up a little bit after a night of saline rehydration, although I was left exhausted and battered. Though the night staff kindly provided a put up bed, the side room was tiny and crammed to the brim with both of our suitcases, Daisy's wheelchair, visitors' chair and medical equipment, so at 1.30 a.m. I decided to curl in beside Daisy. The night was punctuated by bleeping as the drip maked off the small hours, and Daisy expressed her dissatisfaction with the situation through mild to moderate violence. I didn't really blame her but by 4 a.m. I was ready to slip into a voluntary coma in order to escape.
Sunday evening saw my family reunited, though Daisy's mood was still see-sawing between delighted giggle and furious head-banging.
On Monday the wonderful Wasdale team took Lenny out for a riverside adventure and a visit to the ice-cream parlour, so the girls and I went into town to allow Rosie to spend her birthday money. As Daisy became more and more cross in her wheelchair, we decided to treat ourselves to some pizza and pasta at Rustico's (I love it there - it's so cheap!).
We attracted much attention, the three of us. Rosie wore her new sombrero and poncho and repeatedly counted out her birthday money, Daisy banged the heels of her hands constantly on the table, squawking like a baby vulture when I put the plates out of her reach (she dearly wanted to spin them around on the table.) I am used to a little bit of attention and don't usually let it bother me, but the accumulative effect of three nights with very little sleep, plus the piled on worry of Daisy being unwell, left me with a severely shortened fuse, and all it took to ignite the rocket was a steely "you're ruining our dining experience" type of stare from the besuited business types on the next table.
My return-fire stare could have melted solid rock. I held it for a good ten seconds. He looked away first and hastily finished off his carbonara.
Of course I usually feel that it is best to rise above such pettiness, and let unwelcome comments and looks slide off me like water droplets from the proverbial mallard's back, but on the day in question I had truly run out of reserves.
Published Date:
03/08/2010
Modified Date:
03/08/2010
Photoshoot
Lenny has gone for the "naughty but irresistable" angle for today's photoshoot with Essentials magazine. He was very posessive of me, turning my face towards his when I gave the photographer more attention than he felt he deserved. Diving in, mid-photo, if Rose was getting more attention than he felt she deserved. Plagueing Daisy, forcing her off the trampoline and upsetting her if he felt that she was having more fun than she deserved.
It is at times like these, seeing your family through the focused lens, that certain truths can not be evaded. Whilst clearly there can be no denying Lenny's innate autism and communication problems, the wise words of Paul, our lovely photographer from lovely Birmingham, hit home. "That feller knows exactly what he's doing". Hmmm. Food for thought there.
The photos were lovely though, and there are hundreds to choose from. The outfits, although perfecftly acceptable, were from Primark, so I didn't feel at all compelled to smuggle any in with the ironing at change-over time, as the whole lot probably came to less than a tenner.
Anyway, we had a great day, and the story of our family is now out there for all to browse over, and then chuck into next month's recycling! x
Published Date:
28/07/2010
Modified Date:
28/07/2010
Day 2
Day 2 of the holidays and already feeling a bit wobbly. Mind you, Daisy's been up since three this morning, and in a very cross mood at that. She has been bashing her head against the floor in anger, but I can't find what the matter is. Just popped her onto the trampoline where she can't do as much damage, and she has calmed down a little bit.
Rosie seems to have gone back in time. She is floating around the place dressed in a long, peach ballgown and georgian wig, calling me "mother" and asking if she can do a little needlepoint work instead of playing on the Wii. Hope she reverts back to her normal self before her birthday party on Thursday or her many guests will be in for a bit of a shock.
Lenny has been repeatedly saying "Mummy"! He sounds (and looks) so cute! He says it over the top of his goofy front teeth and then dissolves into giggles immediately as though he's told the funniest joke imaginable.
Exciting day tomorrow! Essentials magazine are coming to do a feature about the family, bringing make-up artists and wardrobe people, (not sure wether or not to be offended - they did request photos of everyone initially before we wrote the article - so what made them call in the make-over team?). We are getting a small fee for doing it, but more importantly, we're getting a family portrait done! We've not had one since Lenny was 2 because he has since developed a fear of photographs. I did explain to the photographer about his love of being naked, but we might have to rustle him up a loin cloth or something for the occasion!
Chins up everyone! Six weeks isn't really all that long! x
Published Date:
27/07/2010
Modified Date:
27/07/2010