On Friday, I found myself in the staff room with women around my age range and with kids. They were talking about someone senior who was trying to leave early to attend some function their kid's school was putting on. It meant someone having to cover a class and two cover supervisors were absent.
I walked in at the tail end of the conversation about that certain member of the staff - I'm still not sure who they were talking about to be honest, but I don't think they elicited much sympathy from the group. However the conversation developed into a "the things I have missed my kids do because I work ..."
I have had this conversation with others quite a few times recently, perhaps because the latter part of the summer term sees sports days and leaving assemblies and concerts. The junior school my two eldest go to put on an art exhibition on Monday a.m. , talent show final on Tuesday ( my kids didn't get through this year, don't get me started on that!), a sports day on Weds and a summer fayre on ...Saturday! I would rather my children go to a school where they do a lot of creative stuff, rather than do none, but it does add to mummy guilt and with everything else going on, I couldn't ask Nanny and Grandad to cover me this week.
I made it to sports day. I did a lot of cheering and I rescued my daughter from a big, hairy moth that decided to crawl up her t shirt. oh and I nearly got hit by the relay race baton.
I was allowed to watch another sports days two weeks ago, because year 11 left and freed up Thursday afternoons. I did not make youngest sport's day and I am still upset at missing her Mothers Day assembly because HMI decided to watch me teach year 10 instead. I was available to take eldest to her violin exam a few months ago and also took a couple of her friends because their parents were working. The headteacher arrived and urged me to leave the rest to her care. I was reluctant, one of the girls I'd taken is my daughter's best friend. Her mother knew I was with her, when I said I might go, she burst into tears. I cuddled her and she was fine. She got a distinction. Her mum had mummy guilt.
There is a concert a week on Wednesday for the eldest, her father will miss it because its his own school production. I may have to take her younger sisters, which means i will miss quite a bit of it! My friend is taking her to piano grade 1.( I hope she doesn't cry) Nanny is going to last day concert, as I will be going to reception last day concert.
I made it to middle child's starring role as soldier 2 in their Moses play and I saw her valentine's class assembly. I went to play games with youngest's class, I will be able to go in and see her books in open day, I will miss the junior school open day its on a day I work.
Last Sunday my eldest was sulking because no one was going to see her art work, " no one ever comes..." she began. I stopped her and reminded her that it wasn't true, but I do hope when they get older, they remember me coming to stuff and trying my hardest to get them to the events and past times they have chosen to do. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here. I would like to be able to get to everything, to be the one at the front, sitting bolt upright with charged up video camera, recording it in surround sound and 3D, with a big smile and a Pushy Mother Badge. Instead I sit for a few minutes in a staff room, competing with others over the stuff I am missing out on.
Sunday 29 June 2014
Friday 20 June 2014
it never rains but it pours
Those are the words my father spoke to me last night. On Monday my father was taken into hospital because he couldn't get out of bed and was weeping with pain. I had a SOS call from his new, big- buttoned mobile i had bought him for Father's Day. I called work, sent husband to work and children to school, got in the car and drove 33 miles to his home.
He cried.
I requested a visit from the district nurse to come and dress his leg ulcer which hadn't been tended to for a week and I requested a home visit from his GP. We waited. I gave him tea and he took some pain killers. He's not dying, but it feel like it to him, his arthritis flare up is so bad he almost want to die for some relief.
The nurse comes and takes photos of his leg before redressing it. I throw the old dressing out as she tells me, he tells me off after she's gone. "I wash them, " he explains, " you aren't meant to, but they're like gold dust. No one wants to give you any more."
We wait some more, we have tea and i watch him struggle to the door of his bathroom, slower than a snail and weeping. He waves away my arm. I wish i could pick him up and carry him like my children.
The Doctor arrives and clicks his tongue, he looks at his notes. He doesn't recognise dad and dad goes to the doctor's a lot. This is very different to Dad's previous doctor. Doctor Hall was my grandmother;s doctor and my doctor and my brother's doctor. He knew our entire family. He knew that if he had to come to my father's house, dad was very, very ill.
"You're on the strongest drugs we can give you," says the doctor,"how much are you taking? 5ml? Up it."
I explain that more morphine may make dad drowsy, he lives alone and if he gets in a mess there is no one to help him or clean him.
The doctor hmmms for a moment , then ventures that there may be a bed in the community hospital. Dad is silent. I am firm. The doctor rings them. We wait as he is put on hold. There is a bed.
We wait for the community ambulance. Quite quickly someone rings to tell us that they could be up to two hours.
Dad sulks for a bit, then tells me what to pack in his overnight bag, because he wont be staying more than that, there will be no one to water his tomatoes. Another phone call from the community hospital people. We were misinformed, the taxi could be anywhere up to 6 hours.
Either the shock of going to hospital or another dose of morphine makes dad perk up for an hour.
I am dispatched over the road with an envelop to pay his neighbour for the papers he's bought this week and a quick note saying he doesn't need any more this week. I insist on writing he's going to hospital.
A while later when the neighbour arrives, we watch her go in and out of her house, she cleans the outside and sweeps the drive, she even sweeps the pavement. Its a small town, they like to know what's going on. This lady has a kind, kind heart but needs to know what's going on, not knowing is driving her crazy. Did i see her dust the plants or did i dream it? There is a ring at the door, i answer and she demands to know what's going on with a "I'm not being nosey, I just thought we could visit him as you live far away."
Dad makes me ring the hospital to ask if i can take him, they advise against it and assure me there is still a bed for him.
Dad is supposed to be leaving this house on a stretcher, all his neighbours are home now. The ambulance arrives and parks outside a neighbour's. Two women get out and my heart sinks, no way will dad be lifted by two women. They ask if he can get in a chair and i eagerly agree. He shouts at me to close his bedroom door so he can put his trousers on.
It takes 6 minutes to get to the hospital. There are three other men in the ward. There is only one television and someone else has the remote. I pack his things away and put his phone nearby. I stay for a while then kiss him.
I have seen him everyday this week apart from Thursday. I have been in trouble for telling his cousins and his neighbours, but he has had visits every day from people. The three men have left and dad has the ward to himself and most importantly the remote control.
Yesterday he was asking me to bring things when I came at the weekend, I had to tell him I could come on Monday when my Mum was staying, as she could look after the children for me. My mum who last year I looked after following her operation for colon cancer. She wears a stoma bag and is not as strong as she once was. I also told him my husband was unwell that evening and I had just been told by text that he had been taken to the out of hours clinic. Dad suddenly shrunk and looked small, frightened and above all ashamed.
"Why did you come?" he whispered
"I couldn't leave you without clean pants or pyjamas," I joked.
"Me, your husband and your mum," he muttered.
I think I sort of shrugged in what I hoped was a "C'est la vie" kind of way.
"It never rains but it pours" he said."go home"
I did go home but I went and watered his tomatoes first.
He cried.
I requested a visit from the district nurse to come and dress his leg ulcer which hadn't been tended to for a week and I requested a home visit from his GP. We waited. I gave him tea and he took some pain killers. He's not dying, but it feel like it to him, his arthritis flare up is so bad he almost want to die for some relief.
The nurse comes and takes photos of his leg before redressing it. I throw the old dressing out as she tells me, he tells me off after she's gone. "I wash them, " he explains, " you aren't meant to, but they're like gold dust. No one wants to give you any more."
We wait some more, we have tea and i watch him struggle to the door of his bathroom, slower than a snail and weeping. He waves away my arm. I wish i could pick him up and carry him like my children.
The Doctor arrives and clicks his tongue, he looks at his notes. He doesn't recognise dad and dad goes to the doctor's a lot. This is very different to Dad's previous doctor. Doctor Hall was my grandmother;s doctor and my doctor and my brother's doctor. He knew our entire family. He knew that if he had to come to my father's house, dad was very, very ill.
"You're on the strongest drugs we can give you," says the doctor,"how much are you taking? 5ml? Up it."
I explain that more morphine may make dad drowsy, he lives alone and if he gets in a mess there is no one to help him or clean him.
The doctor hmmms for a moment , then ventures that there may be a bed in the community hospital. Dad is silent. I am firm. The doctor rings them. We wait as he is put on hold. There is a bed.
We wait for the community ambulance. Quite quickly someone rings to tell us that they could be up to two hours.
Dad sulks for a bit, then tells me what to pack in his overnight bag, because he wont be staying more than that, there will be no one to water his tomatoes. Another phone call from the community hospital people. We were misinformed, the taxi could be anywhere up to 6 hours.
Either the shock of going to hospital or another dose of morphine makes dad perk up for an hour.
I am dispatched over the road with an envelop to pay his neighbour for the papers he's bought this week and a quick note saying he doesn't need any more this week. I insist on writing he's going to hospital.
A while later when the neighbour arrives, we watch her go in and out of her house, she cleans the outside and sweeps the drive, she even sweeps the pavement. Its a small town, they like to know what's going on. This lady has a kind, kind heart but needs to know what's going on, not knowing is driving her crazy. Did i see her dust the plants or did i dream it? There is a ring at the door, i answer and she demands to know what's going on with a "I'm not being nosey, I just thought we could visit him as you live far away."
Dad makes me ring the hospital to ask if i can take him, they advise against it and assure me there is still a bed for him.
Dad is supposed to be leaving this house on a stretcher, all his neighbours are home now. The ambulance arrives and parks outside a neighbour's. Two women get out and my heart sinks, no way will dad be lifted by two women. They ask if he can get in a chair and i eagerly agree. He shouts at me to close his bedroom door so he can put his trousers on.
It takes 6 minutes to get to the hospital. There are three other men in the ward. There is only one television and someone else has the remote. I pack his things away and put his phone nearby. I stay for a while then kiss him.
I have seen him everyday this week apart from Thursday. I have been in trouble for telling his cousins and his neighbours, but he has had visits every day from people. The three men have left and dad has the ward to himself and most importantly the remote control.
Yesterday he was asking me to bring things when I came at the weekend, I had to tell him I could come on Monday when my Mum was staying, as she could look after the children for me. My mum who last year I looked after following her operation for colon cancer. She wears a stoma bag and is not as strong as she once was. I also told him my husband was unwell that evening and I had just been told by text that he had been taken to the out of hours clinic. Dad suddenly shrunk and looked small, frightened and above all ashamed.
"Why did you come?" he whispered
"I couldn't leave you without clean pants or pyjamas," I joked.
"Me, your husband and your mum," he muttered.
I think I sort of shrugged in what I hoped was a "C'est la vie" kind of way.
"It never rains but it pours" he said."go home"
I did go home but I went and watered his tomatoes first.
Wednesday 4 June 2014
new rooms
My ten year old and very nearly 8 year old have shared a bedroom for 6 years. They cannot remember not waking up together.
We had new bedrooms built and the eldest elected to move out as long as she got a mirror and a dressing table.
She chose the paint colour and curtains/ bedding. Her dad has flexed his muscles and built flat pack furniture. The walls might be pinky peach but the air was blue! I washed the bedding and moved toys, books and clothes in.
We gave her and her sister some time, we discovered that the eldest tells the youngest stories about a dragon which is hung from their lampshade, the rainbow fish that swings beside it is the villain of the piece. They spent an evening where i wasn't allowed to tell them off for giggling or talking after lights out. I wasn't looking forward to the change - its all too far away from them being babies although i was looking forward to them not being able to argue each and every morning. I was surprised they weren't emotional.
Then I tool the eldest to Dunhelm to buy a few last things and told her it was the last evening. She burst into tears."I don't wanna leave her!!!!!"
"ok, well stay in the same room."
"I wanna go in my new rooom!!!"
"Its understandable, you've been together for a long, long time"
"was I excited when she was moving in ?"
"oh yes , very excited!"
"waaaaaahhhhh! I don't want to leave her!" and so on.
Anyway, two nights later, she decides tonight is the night and kisses her sister and goes to her new room.
at 10.45 after several get ups and fidgets, she comes downstairs to complain she cannot sleep. I give her ultimatum: go to new bed and sleep or take her teddy and get in the top bunk for a sleepover with her sister. She opts for the latter and is asleep once her head hits the pillow. In the morning, the younger sets out to find her and finally discovers her in the top bunk. The next night is a similar story.
Finally the third night, she is very tired. After an hour, everything goes quiet. When I check on her, she is asleep in her new room. My big girl.
not staying on top of things
I was never good at keeping a diary so I am not surprised that my blogging stopped abruptly!
However, my life is always a leaning tower of strength - like Jenga?
When one of the bits gets pulled out that shouldn't it rocks a lot and even tumbles, it takes time to rebuild.
I may be overextending the metaphor here, but you get the idea.
So, work was stressful, building had finished so house was a mess, money was tight and grandpa was proper poorly with dodgy plumbers ignoring his request for them to complete his new wet room.
Even going to see granny was a problem when no one would tell me what days I could book in.
When I returned home with the children, husband was on a mission to decorate and furnish the new build. He has done a fab job but that left me looking after three children during a fairly wet half term.
I was looking forward to the first week back so that i could get things straight and eldest child has managed to develop shingles.
Shingles! It sound so sweet doesn't it? Its not sweet and its getting worse. Its spreading around her side and onto her back. Its painful.
On the plus side, yesterday I sat on the sofa cuddling her ( she's not usually a cuddler) and watched Harry Potter.
On the not so plus side- house is still a mess and work has become stressful again, already.
Roll on summer- I have some decorating to do.
p.s. this morning i lost my house keys. The oven has broken and the washing machine has flooded the kitchen.
However, my life is always a leaning tower of strength - like Jenga?
When one of the bits gets pulled out that shouldn't it rocks a lot and even tumbles, it takes time to rebuild.
I may be overextending the metaphor here, but you get the idea.
So, work was stressful, building had finished so house was a mess, money was tight and grandpa was proper poorly with dodgy plumbers ignoring his request for them to complete his new wet room.
Even going to see granny was a problem when no one would tell me what days I could book in.
When I returned home with the children, husband was on a mission to decorate and furnish the new build. He has done a fab job but that left me looking after three children during a fairly wet half term.
I was looking forward to the first week back so that i could get things straight and eldest child has managed to develop shingles.
Shingles! It sound so sweet doesn't it? Its not sweet and its getting worse. Its spreading around her side and onto her back. Its painful.
On the plus side, yesterday I sat on the sofa cuddling her ( she's not usually a cuddler) and watched Harry Potter.
On the not so plus side- house is still a mess and work has become stressful again, already.
Roll on summer- I have some decorating to do.
p.s. this morning i lost my house keys. The oven has broken and the washing machine has flooded the kitchen.
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