Mud & Mischief

Finally got myself referred back to a physio who could deal with a fat lady. Feels like I’ve spent forever going backwards and forwards to DRI and the physio dept (pregnancy brain is refusing to give me the proper name of the dept at the moment). Started going in January, saw someone every week until April, then he admitted defeat and said he’d pass me up to the OPP (which I think is orthopaedic physio practitioner). That appt eventually came through for the end of July, for which we were away. When I rang to change it, the next available appt was September! So by the time I got there, I was waddling. And it was a complete waste of time going, as he took one look at me and said ‘you’re pregnant, can’t do anything until you’ve had the baby’. *sigh*

So had to get the midwife to refer me - back to the same dept (begins with an R, I’m sure), and a very lovely lady called Celia, who was infinitely gentle (wasn’t quite sure she was a real physio at that! - they’re all sadistic usually), carefully prodded my back, only once as she had to peel me off the ceiling after, and did lots of moving and twisting of my legs and spine, and told me I had Sacroiliitis. And hyper-something or other that I can’t remember now, but it was a really cool, long word, and basically describes why when she lightly touched one of my vertebrae I went through the roof, and even after she’d taken her hand away, I could still feel her pressing on it. After a few moments, the feeling developed into a deep, bruised sensation. Might go google later, but will probably get terribly lost if I do.

But googling Sacroiliitis when I got home was something of a revelation. All the symptoms fit pretty much exactly what I’ve been suffering on and off with for the past however many years. Don’t like the numerous cross-references to ankylosing spondilitis, mind. But we’ll worry about that as and when.

It’s also a tad confusing, however, as it appears to be one of those conditions that medical folks have widely varying opinions on. Hell, I even found one study saying it didn’t believe SI pain was ‘real’. Come and tell me that to my face, says I. There are also bacteriological causes, Strep B is an indicator, various viruses and the like can do unpleasant things to the multitude of tendons etc that hold the pelvis together - or in the case of pregnancy, don’t.

To cut a long story short, I waddled out of there with a giant tubi grip girdling me from belly button to the top of my thighs, and feeling a bit daft to boot. It did help though, although sitting down for any length of time made the bottom ride up around my pubic bone and the top roll down to meet it, which gave Junior a nice band of resistance to kick hell out of. There is nothing glamourous about being pg, is there? Ugh.

Dear Santa

I’ve been really good this year, even though it’s started out so horridly. I’ve done my best not to be too much of a dragon to the children, in spite of being so awfully sick for so long. And I’m keeping up to date with the washing and managing to feed everyone reasonably regularly, and healthily too. I’m hoping it’s not too cheeky, but I’d like to put my wish list in a bit early this year, as it’s a tad complex, and you might need a bit of time to get all the bits together. And if you’d like to drop any of them off early and save yourself a bit of weight on the Eve itself, then by all means, feel free.

1. A cleaner. Was going to put ‘cleaning lady’ but that would be sexist. A nice 6′ Polish male student would suffice as a cleaner, as long as he’s good with the vacuum and can unload the dishwasher without breaking anything. Things are getting a little out of hand round here, as walking isn’t much fun at present. Organising skills would be a bonus, as would an ability to see the wood for the trees. If he’s really good, he could also double as #2, which is:

2. A handyperson. Someone who can do all these irritating little jobs I’ve got that need doing, and that I just can’t manage myself. Emptying the garage, doing runs to the tip (which tends to be closed by the time James gets home from work), shifting the boxes of stuf around for me. There’d be bonus points if he could hang wall paper and gloss woodwork, as we really need to get this dining room finished before the Season is upon us. And preferably put the house on the market too.

3. That house we saw in Retford. You know the one. *sigh*

4. Some nice simple gold sleeper earrings, about 3/4″ in diameter, the kind with the discrete fastening and hinge, like the ones I used to have as a child. Let’s see if you can find gold hoops smaller than children’s bracelets and thinner than a pencil. They don’t exisit in Doncaster.

5. Prada perfume. A friend was wearing it and it smelled divine. Although, hold that thought until I’ve actually gone and tried it on, just in case it turns into Eau de Baboon on me. Just hide the name on the box though, in case my friends think I’ve turned into a chav.

6. An extra seat for the back of the G4. Not entirely sure how you’re going to manage that, as I haven’t figured out a way yet, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something.

7. A healthy baby. Don’t mind if this one is a bit late, thanks, although if you could arrange delivery by 12th night, I’d be very grateful. A few tips and ideas for names would be a bonus too, or this poor child is going to be born nameless and I don’t like that at all. If you could arrange for my hips to stay together during the process, I’d be forever in your debt.

I guess that’s it for this year. It’s not a lengthy list, and there’s one or two on there that should be manageable given your resources and abilities. I can’t think of anything else, although if you’re really stuck, Amazon vouchers are a winner every time.

The girls will be writing to you shortly, but remember to take what they say with a pinch of salt. Their letters will probably just be full of whatever was on the adverts on Nick Jr that day. From a mother’s point of view, I think bikes would suit them all perfectly - Myf can ride hers really well, but it’s a little small now; Tea is dying to learn to ride but we’ve misplaced the training wheels for Myf’s and the little one with training wheels has been left out in the rain too many times to be of much use to anyone. Piglet will be happy with pretty much anything as long as it comes in a big sturdy cardboard box that she can use to go on adventures in once the toy has been played with a couple of times.

Give my regards to Mrs Claus,

Sincerely yours
Kris Poledragon

Yesterday, it seems, was my last day of running around trying to do absolutely everything. Had the odd funny stabbing twinge in my pelvis last night - didn’t think anything off it, as I’d done quite a bit of shifting stuff around, loading junk into the white truck for a run to the tip, washing and all that assorted nonsense.

This morning, I woke up with the pain, which was odd as normally these aches and things don’t get going until after lunch. But by 10am, I was shopping with the Piglet and was very uncomfortable. And now, I’m sat here on my bed as it’s the comfiest seat in the house, coming to the unpleasant conclusion that it’s SPD and I’m stuck with it for the next 17 weeks. Ho hum.

Midwife next week though, so I shall be getting myself referred back to the gynae-physio asap. Just when I’d started to think I was going to get on top of everything - I’ve almost got the floor in the old dining room clear enough so I can start stripping wallpaper too.

Am doing an evening class though, starting tomorrow night. I figured I needed to do something that wasn’t baby/child/housework related, and spend a few hours doing something vaguely interesting,and was doable sat down (so no Arabian dancing or Tai Chi). So I’m off to a Needlework class. Basically, I’ve always wanted to know how to make a proper patchwork quilt. All the other bits and pieces they mention about embroidery and stuff will be good to know, but I really want to make a proper quilt. Have been eyeing up purple and gold fat quarters on eBay. Have no idea how much you’d pay for a fat quarter IRL though. Must do some more research. But I’ve been wanting to spruce up my bedroom for ages, and have decided to concentrate on my making the quilt for my bed. Not the kids, not the baby’s, but mine. How self-indulgent is that? Can hardly believe it myself. lol

To end the blog on a nice note though - I got a £50 premium bond prize in the post this morning. Which was very, very nice indeed. In fact, I might just go browse those fat quarters again…

Gee, it’s May on Monday. And I’ve not really updated anything I’ve done in April. Must have been an exciting month…

Actually, it wasn’t too bad. Went to Spain on the 8th for a week, which was nice. Not quite as much sun as I would have liked but at least it didn’t rain. Slightly manic second week of the Easter break, in that I’m not totally sure what we did but we never seemed to be at home or be able to arrange going anywhere or to do anything as there was always something on.

On Monday I went down to Birmingham for the night and saw Miss Saigon with Mom, my aunt and my cousin. Thoroughly enjoyed that, especially the helicopter bit. Spent an hour at Mandy’s (aunt) on the way home discussing gardening and the best way to germinate sweetcorn and how impossibly provincial some Brummies are in that they didn’t know what a butternut squash was. lol

And have spent an hour at the lottie this morning, child free and in peace and quiet. If you ignore the council blokes strimming the graveyard a hundred yards down the road. Dug up a massive bagful of couch grass (damn the stuff, it’s enough to make me want to say to hell with organics and pass me the glyphosate). Planted some leeks. Going back later today to plant a few more potatoes and sow some carrots. Didn’t do enough carrots last year, so have large piece of fleece, and I’m going to grow myself a half ton this year.

See, I knew we’d end up talking about gardening. Off to investigate my greenhouse and sow a few more peppers- they do take an awful long time to germinate. Then off to a funeral. Bob, one of the old boys from the allotment. He was always there - part of the fabric of the place. didn’t actually have a plot, but his house is right next to the driveway into the lotties. You have to swerve around his garage to drive up to the top. Is very sad, and very strange not to see him sat by his garage, with his old black dog, Ben. Ben died in January, and Bob had a stroke the month after. Another stroke and a heart attack finished him off last week. He was always there - he was an engineer and had all kinds of lathes and presses in his garage. He fabricated bits and pieces for all the classic car owners for miles around. Apparently there’s going to be a large classic car procession from the church to the crem, which will be lovely.

Four months into the year and two funerals already.

To recap, my weekend was going to go something like this:

Friday night - drive down to Charlecote (between Stratford-upon-Avon and Leamington Spa), stay in hotel
Saturday - leisurely morning, breakfast & newspapers, get girls bathed and ready to be bridesmaids, wedding at 2pm, afternoon of eating and drinking and dancing, stay in hotel
Sunday morning - breakfast, zoom back up M1 to Doncaster, go to christening for lunch, James into town to make up funeral flowers, me and girls home to pack bags, Myf to Grandma’s, me James and small ones back down M1 to Bromsgrove (via Mom’s to drop of funeral flowers), stay at friend’s
Monday - leave smalls at friend’s, go to funeral, go back after to pick up smalls, return to wake, then back home up M1, pick up Myf and dog, home.

Which is almost how it happened. However, we hadn’t bargained on Myf and Piglet having an altercation in the hotel room at 8.30am, which lead to this:

The red circle is highlighting the greenstick fracture of Piglet’s collarbone. She and I spent over 3 hours in Warwick A&E on Saturday morning, which meant we didn’t get back to the hotel until 1.15pm, which in turn meant that I had to bath and dress her, retie her sling, do her hair and also, do the big two’s hair (James had bathed and dressed them, bless), and then shower and dress myself. Which led to me rushing across from one side of the hotel to the other at 2 minutes to 2pm, with wet hair and a 2 year old who wasn’t best impressed with this sling thing she was having to wear.

The big two were beautiful bridesmaids though (glad Piglet wasn’t!) Myf did have a little episode and fainted right at the end of the ceremony, but that was a combination of heat, lack of food (in the panic over Piglet, they hadn’t had lunch - bad mother), excitement, and just sheer Myf-ness. She does do a whiter shade of pale very well.

Tea, bless her, was as good as gold and did’t do anything unpleasant for the whole weekend.

The christening was lovely, food was good and hot and lots of it, which was great. Piglet leapt into the small ball pool and promptly screamed fit to shatter glass. Five minutes of cuddling later and she was off again, albeit marginally slower. I don’t know how to stop her though. Some slight confusion over time and motion organisation led to me having to do half a dozen trips up and down the Bawtry Road, but it’s only 7 miles each way… however, we ended up in the van heading south at about 6.30pm ish, I think, as far as I can remember. Scrambled brains, anyone?

My beautiful, wonderful, bestest friend of old fed us when we arrived at her house at some ungodly hour (10ish?), made us tea, offered hugs and sympathy and a comfy bed. Then she made us bacon sandwiches in the morning and chased us out of her house before we could offer to wash up. All inspite of being 8 weeks pregnant and very sick with it. She sat on Tea and Piglet who, along with her 5yo daughter and 3yo son, all played beautifully and quietly and were just splendid the entire day!

The funeral was… Well, it just was. It went with military precision (apart from starting 10 minutes late, which created a great deal of tension-dispersing mirth when we realised that Terry had even managed to be late for his own funeral ) A hearse stuffed full of flowers and four big black limos. The service was lovely, three individual readings, a very robust rendition of ‘Jerusalem’ along with two other hymns. Then back outside into the bitter, bitter cold for the walk to the grave. There must have been more than 200 people there - Mom was astounded at the amount of mourners who had attended. The grave bit wasn’t pleasant, as Mom hates the idea of burial (we heard all about her plans for cremation later) but she held it together enough to get back to the cars. Wake was great - lots of family and friends and the Welsh mob had decended upon us which was lovely.

But it was bloody hard too. Last time I sat in that chapel was 14 years ago, when we cremated my Nan. And my uncle stood up and read the same piece yesterday as he read then. Thing that got me, was the fact that I’d given him that reading a few days before Nan’s funeral. A college friend had given it to me, and I thought it was so lovely I’d shown everyone once back home. Paul is also a master orator - an instructor in the Army for 20 years, a real teacher. So his reading was just stunning. I think he glanced at the lectern twice. This is the piece he read, by Canon Scott Holland - it is taken from a longer sermon delivered in St. Paul’s on 15 May 1910, at which time the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster.

“Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.”

The day bears down upon us. ‘Tis tomorrow. In case you hadn’t noticed.

Went and did a bit of shopping this morning - was pleasantly quiet up until about 10, then beat a hasty retreat before the tranquility of the day was spoiled by the 85% of men who leave shopping until the last minute. Came home, opened a new, empty cupboard and piled bags in. Shut door. Admired capacity of new cupboards. Considered not putting shelves in, ever.

Builder was here for a brief while, cleared up a few things from the drive, then vanished promising 9mm spanner and pipe cutters. That was before 12 and it’s now half 3.

Need to dig out the vacuum and clear the floor in here, so we have a clear, semi-dust free place to pile presents. Hmm, maybe should go wrap said presents. Later, methinks. With wine. And nibbles.

Did I say the diet started next week? Maybe the week after. Shall go think on Merry’s “Resolutions x5″. At least the business ones should be easy - ‘think of one to start’.

Not often you see me around at 6.30am. However, as we’re (supposedly) getting a truck full of concrete today at 10.30,I thought I’d get up a little earlier than normal and start clearing a space or two.

Have shifted half of the remaining flat pack cabinets in out of the garage and into the kitchen - seeing as how I won’t be able to one there’s 6″ of concrete between me and my garage/outhouse. *sigh*

So I’m also doing laundry like crazy, put the last load onto tumble last night at 12.45, and swapped it all over at 6.25… I must be insane.

However, at least we won’t have an exposed gas pipe for people to trip over - it’s the yellow one that runs right in front of the back door, which is the one we always use. Safe, eh?

Oh, and I have no idea what’s in the blue barrels, as the builder dumped them there - possibly a petrol mix for the various stilsaw/tamper type things he’s been using. And yes, he’s the one who left those open bags of plastering compound out too. And it rained last night.

I think the wagon driver should have left the skip and taken the house - would have been tidier…

Oh yes - we have room to move. In fact, the playroom is now an integral part of the downstairs rooms. Yesterday they fitted skirting board, loft hatch, cleared the floor and removed various bits of machinery. James brought home a huge piece of carpet that had come out of his parents’ house a while back and spread that out on the bare concrete. He vac’d it, put the dining table, 2 drawer filing cabinet and a few stray boxes in one corner, and suddenly, we have a table to eat at and a huge big empty space in the dining room! The children are ecstatic, and have spent today demolishing all three rooms. Why is it the mess created expands exponentially to fill the space available?

And the reason for the flurry of activity? I lost my temper (eta with the builder!)

And I don’t mean I got annoyed, irritated or snappy with him. Yesterday morning, I lost the plot completely, for a variety of reasons, not least being the fact he’d left his phone at his mother’s and therefore hadn’t had any of my texts to say he had to pick up the plasterer along with half a dozen bags of various plastering compounds at 8.30am. So 9am came and went with no plasterer, 10am came and went… at this point I should have been heading out of the house to pop to Asda then over to Kirsty’s for lunch.

10.20 and I found the phone book, rang his mother, got a tad upset at her and asked her where her son was as it was a week until Christmas, I had three small children in my house and no kitchen or running water. She said his phone was sat right in front of her on her table.

20 minutes later, he appeared, very sheepish and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. When he told me he’d ‘lost’ his phone, I saw red and, well, let’s just say I’m a little ashamed of myself.

I turned into a screaming banshee. Never, ever, in my life before have I had someone back away from me going ‘calm down’. I think I genuinely scared the kid. I dragged him to the kitchen window and pointed out the hideous mess out there, telling him in no too uncertain terms that I was rather pissed off with not being able to let my kids outside. Drragged him to the front of the house and pointed the skip and piles of concrete and sand and stuff out there and told him the neighbours had been complaining. Dragged him into the kitchen and pointed the appalling mess, into the dinig room to point at the dust and the crap and the piles of everything onmy dining table and that my kids were having to eat on the living room floor due to his fucking imcompetence and that I was *this* (holds up finger and thumb an inch apart) fucking close to fucking killing someone and that he was at the top of my fucking list and that he better pull his fucking finger out before I lost the plot completely…

*draws deep breath*

I have no idea what I must have looked like, as I was a swearing, sobbing, furious, screaming mess. I have never lost my temper like that before. Ever. It was most disturbing. And also, in some ways, most theraputic. He’s now tiptoeing round me like you’d tiptoe round a live cobra…

But I have had one of his ‘lads’, Aaron, here all day, clearing, tidying, shifting stuff, doing bits I’m pointing out; the plumber is here plumbing in my sink (poor guy didn’t know I had a list of stuff for him to do - he thought he was here to tighten up a drippy joint). Aaron is now fixing the skirting boards in the kitchen. I’m also having trouble typing as I’ve got yet more plasters on my fingers, but I also have a nice stretch of counter top and my cupboards along the far wall are all fixed and level and in place ready for me to put the doors on when the plumber has gone. Will blog pictures later.