Monthly Archives: May 2012

Not Enjoying The Age……move along please

With my first, I fought really hard to get her. Pickle was eventually conceived by IVF and then as soon as she was born, she screamed for, what felt like, solidly for 6 months or so. We found it really hard to deal with. We once came downstairs from our 6th trip up to soothe her (she was probably still crying) and sat on the sofa and cried and cried. Hubby told me that we mustn’t feel like this, we must enjoy it, we fought too hard to be miserable about it.

He was wrong of course. He knows that now. That added pressure did nothing for our feelings of failure. My daughter had colic (we did try to treat it with various things, but nothing worked) and I was in denial. It settled down eventually, of course, and then the joy began. I bonded with her, found her an absolute delight and started telling people “I’m really enjoying this age”. With each new year, I embraced the new age and the experience of getting to know this amazing little person.

3 years later and my son arrived (The baby destroyer -TBD) Natural pregnancy (albeit a few scares during it about size and amniotic fluid) and another c-section. He didn’t cry like my first. He slept……a lot! He was lovely and snuggly and because I already had my daughter Pickle I had bonded with him whilst still pregnant. He was an absolute joy to be with and as such (although it’s awful to say) he was much easier to love in those early days.

He’s 17 months now. So very different to Pickle, as boys are, and a real handful. He’s really frustrated in life too. He’s only just started walking (not very well) and he can’t talk. His pointing hasn’t proved to be very helpful to him either and so every couple 10 minutes or so he does the mother of all hissy fits. Sometimes you make him angry without really knowing why. I once brought him downstairs (he was cheerful) and he saw everyone was up and burst into tears and cried solidly for an hour. I can only assume he wasn’t expecting everyone to be there. I really don’t know. He also doesn’t eat very well. Refuses to be spoon fed so feeds himself and only wants to eat “beige” (pasta, bread, toast, biscuits, breadsticks, bread, pasta… get the picture). He gets VERY angry if you give him something he doesn’t want. I tend to put some pasta tubes in everything in order to coax him to try stuff.

I’m exhausted with him to be honest. I can’t seem to make him happy and I can absolutely confirm I Am Not Enjoying This Age at all. I can’t wait for him to get more able, to talk and to be a better walker. I just know he’s going to be a lovely little boy but the waiting is killing me.


Dear Idiot I work with

Dear Idiot that works in my department,

Being an ar@#*ole like you are, is starting to get a little dull if I’m brutally honest.  Having a miserable, scowly face is getting on my nerves and rushing around, arriving late to meetings looking serious and looking “oh so stressed and busy” doesn’t make me feel privileged to have you there.

It doesn’t make you look busier than me

It doesn’t make me think you are more important

and it definitely doesn’t make me respect you.

Basically, it makes you look like a twat.

You call yourself a project manager, but I very much doubt you could organise yourself out of a paper bag.  Do lists, for crying out loud.  Put reminders in your frickin calendar and RESPOND TO MY EMAILS!!

God damn it you’re an idiot.

Yours sincerely

Someone who feels a whole lot better.

Age and the C word

…..that’d be: Concerned or Crapping myself.

Actually I did mean the real C word.  Every 6 months or so my body does something unusual (usually grows something) and I spend a few weeks crapping myself that it’s something much more sinister than it actually is. My mum died before she was 60 from Cancer, so I see this as a looming age.

Just after I had my 2nd child I became concerned as I had sprouted loads of moles all over my breasts and tummy.  I mean, over 20 new ones.  I ended up going to the mole Clinic in London. I’d heard about it from an article from Denise Van Outen and as I was born and raised in Australia, I didn’t really trust my GP to recognise a cancerous mole if it jumped out and shouted “I’m a cancerous mole”.  It all turned out fine though, they were some sort of benign growth that is common as we age (argghhhhh) and apart from getting one real mole reviewed I could relax.

The latest scare was a lump.  Quite a big one.  It was in my groin area.  I’m not that familiar with the whole lymph node situation, but I do know we have lymph nodes in the groin and although this didn’t seem to be in what I thought I was a logical place for lymph nodes, I freaked out none the less.  Actually, that’s not entirely true.  I was on my own with the kids when I first found it, and I freaked out a little,  but whilst making a mental note it could be something sinister and I should keep an eye on it, I did come up with many more possible scenarios on what it could be such as an infection under the skin caused by a shaving cut or ingrown hair (mmmm, this post is starting to lean into icky territory).

Well, it got bigger, I got more freaked out and I booked an appointment for Tuesday at my GP, the day after the bank holiday.  I felt better having it booked, I calmed down, I accepted it was probably nothing.

And, I think it is just that…….nothing.  In fact it has reduced in size by half today.  I think I may cancel my appointment.  What the whole experience has taught me is that things seems to go wrong more frequently for me these days.  Illnesses take longer to go, bruises hang about and things sprout, enlarge and often disappear eventually, but they seem to occur regularly.  I need to chill out, accept that this is the way things are and stop worrying so much.

If cancer is going to catch me, it will, regardless of how much I worry about it.  The trick is to be vigilant, keep checking, but get on with your life and treat every day as a gift.  So that’s what I intend to do.