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Back to Reality
Following a wonderful holiday with my baby sister -
and seeing some beautiful sights -
It's nose back to the grindstone today. All my ladies seemed very pleased to see me, except one, who I had driven an extra 14 miles to see, pre-arranged, and who was not in. I know she is avoiding midwives as she is needle phobic, and is now 5 weeks overdue a blood test. What she doesn't know, yet, is that this could lead to a referral to social services as she is deemed to be putting her baby at risk. I am just about to make one of those difficult phone calls making her an offer she can't refuse, 'let me stick a needle in you or ........'.
I've just been offered a new job, on my doorstep. I can't decide whether I should take it or not. The only benefit is that it's so close to where I live that it would reduce my travelling by 50%. The down side is that every time I set foot outside I would meet someone I was looking after. I am going to have a full discussion with my manager and see exactly what is on offer, and then pick a straw. My decision making skills are the envy of many a politician.
Fresh orange juice
On holiday I discovered the joys of freshly, squeezed orange juice, with all the bits. Yesterday I voiced my love of this beverage. Today I came home from work and on the side in the kitchen was a note -
Mummy,
I thought you might enjoy some orange juice with the bits in it when you got home from work - look in the fridge.........!
ENJOY!
love B & J
Yes, my daughters do call me 'Mummy'
B & J are Daughter and Grandson
Sometimes it's the little things that make the biggest impression.
Lady in Waiting
'You should go and see your doctor' said Matilda
MM thought about this piece of advice. Trips to the doctor were not something that she relished as they generally ended with blood tests and, being slightly needle phobic, she was loathe to put herself in that situation. However, after considering her options, particularly in light of the roasting she had given Mark the Carlisle Cockney for ignoring symptoms, she bit the bullet, got up early on Monday morning and phoned for an appointment.
'Hi, can I make an appointment for Thursday with Dr F?'
'Sorry, all the book in advance slots for then have gone.'
'Oh. Okay then, could I have an appointment sometime this week?'
'No. All the book in advance appointments have gone.'
'Could I have an appointemnt today then. Please.'
'No. It's fully booked. You need to phone earlier.'
'I tried but the line was constantly engaged'.
'Try again tomorrow.'
MM pondered on this. Nothing else for it but to wake up early again on Tuesday morning. Since her insomnia had raised it's ugly head again she would rather not have had to set her alarm to wake her after only 3 hours sleep, but needs must.
9 AM - 'Hi, could I make an appointment to see Dr F?'
'There are no appointments left, is it urgent?'
MM mused. In the grand scheme of things, no it's not urgent. However in MM's world how long until it becomes urgent? Should she wait until then? She shared her thoughts, well some of them, with the gatekeeper on the other end of the telephone.
' Phone after 2pm and tell them it's urgent, don't say I told you to though!'
Now MM is a concientious sort of person. She doesn't want to take a slot away from a dramatically poorly person but that appears to be the only way that she can get to see her GP. It's a good thing that she wasn't suffering from a stress-related illness because her quest to get an appointment with her Doc may just have been the straw that broke the camels back. She has 3 hours in which to ponder, fib now, or wait until it is urgent?
Apocalytical
Wow. Amazing thunderstorms. At one point we were surrounded by three of them and the sky was flashing every 30 seconds. One, straight overhead, knocked out our phones, broadband, and the booster box in the loft. The cats all ran for cover, dauhter and I jumped out of our skins, and Jack, who was feeding at the time, came off the breast, his bottom lip quivered, and he screamed the place down. All this was accompanied by torrential rain, biblical proportions, which has caused the roof light in our lobby to start leaking, we now have a saucepan sitting in the middle of the floor and hubby has a job for the weekend. For a while the air got much fresher, it's starting to get clammy again now, if we have a repeat performance tonight I shall get the camera out and try to photograph the lightening. As long as it doesn't knock out the telly during BB I shall quite enjoy it.
Surprised
Wednesday night is curry night. Hubby plays golf in the afternoon and I am generally working, so after a heated debate about the unfairness of life, his obsession with golf, and the lure of the 19th hole, a unilateral decision was taken that, if food was required on a Wednesday, it would have to be provided at the local Indian. Last night though it meant I missed BB, and the eviction. No probs, I videoed it. At midnight we settled down to watch. Please note, Hubby does not usually watch BB, apparently it's for morons, however, 4 Indian beers and a double brandy lowered his IQ to a level allowing him entry to a moronic state. Knock me down with a feather. Stuart was evicted. I was certain it would be Jason (slimey, egotistical, fake, bodily fluid exuding MCP), or Shell (something about nothing), and what made it so sad was his reaction, so bewildered, so accepting, why didn't his Mummy leap up onto the stage and give him a big cuddle? I demand a recount. I think BB have fiddled it and Jason, just the mention of his name makes me shudder, really got the fewest votes, but the powers that be decided that leaving him in might cause more upsets. Evil Big Brother.
A routine development
Thursday nights are my night. For years now Hubby has abandoned me on a Thursday. It started when he used to go to a fitness class, gradually he would be out for longer and longer, the class would last an hour, he would be in the pub for 2 hours afterwards, so I started calling it fatness. Eventually, all the blokes who went to 'fatness' developed ailments, bad knees, frozen shoulders and so the class was given up and only the pub remained. Initially, in lieu of exercise, they would walk through the fields to a pub in a neighbouring village, but after a few falls on the return journey a local pub was adopted as their watering hole. In the last year I have decided on my own 'fitness' scheme. It fits in well with Hubby's Thursday night jaunt cos what I do is 'power' walk up to the pub to meet him. I set off at ten to eleven, cover of darkness, whatever the weather, and walk briskly towards the pub utilising as many muscles as I can. It's wonderful. There's no one about to see my strange gait, and I feel quite saintly by the time I meet up with Hubby. I never go into the pub, I'm not dressed for socialising, I just march around the general vicinity until I see a tall lanky figure and then I fall in beside him and trot home. I have to trot because he is a foot taller than me, and so I have to take two steps to his one. I must look a strange figure on my once a week fitness attempt but I love the freedom. It is freedom. Quiet streets, no one chatting to me, not on my way to do anything in particular, just walking. One night when my sister came round and we were walking back from the Indian I told her about my walk. She was worried, wandering the streets in the dark, alone. Perhaps I'm delusional but I feel safe.
Jack & The great weaning debate
Jack's Mummy is confused. The Health Visitor came round to discuss weaning.
'He's only 14 weeks' she said to the HV, ' the recommendations are that breast fed babies should be weaned as close to 6 months as possible'.
'That's right' says the HV ' but our surgery likes to talk to Mums about it now. When will you be starting baby on solids?'
Daughter is now feeling that she should start Jack on solids. He's still gaining weight, he's settled, okay he has stopped sleeping through the night since the hot weather started, but that's not necessarily because he's hungry. I'm staying out of this though. My first baby was started on solids (egg yolk) at 10 weeks, and the other two were 16 weeks when baby rice was introduced. Things were easier then. You were more or less left to it. Babies could sleep where you thought best, in whatever position you felt suited them, and wearing whatever you decided was comfortable for them. Breast or bottle, no problem. I'm glad I had my babies twenty plus years ago, I had enough angst then, I would be totally neurotic nowadays. Are the babies/children healthier now though? Are they developing faster? Is their emotional state improved? Has the Nanny State bred a new, better parent and child? Personally, I don't think so.
P.S I write this as a Grandmother and a Mum. At this moment I am not behaving as any sort of Health Professional just a devil's advocate.