Well what a rubbish week. Following on from K not feeling well last week, things just got worse. First of all, I started to feel rubbish too. by Friday I could hardly swallow so I went to the doctors and it turned out to be tonsillitis. Joy Joy Joy. My throat felt like sandpaper, I had a temperature, felt bloody awful and to top it all my voice sounded like a strangled ferret. It still isn't right now!
On a plus note, all of a sudden the tiny bit of swelling has gone on my eyelid and it looks almost normal, I can't thank my consultant enough. The thought that perhaps during the summer I will be able to wear my contacts again is brilliant!
Was just having a loving moment with my littlest one tonight, cuddled up in bed, her stroking my face and naming all the different bits:
“Eyebrows” - “Yes, they’re my eyebrows”
“Eyelashes” - “Yes, they’re my eyelashes”
“Eyelins” - “Yes, darling, they’re my eyelids"
“What are these, mummy?”
“What, sweetheart?”
I love coffee mornings. Women get together and discuss all sorts of things that they wouldn’t dream of mentioning on the playground or at a dinner party.
This week the topics drifted from Sarah Palin (the UK is actually frightened) to Jerusalem artichokes (I had no idea!) to threadworms.
My ears perked up when the discussion turned to threadworms. It’s one of those topics people don’t often talk about in public, like flatulence, headlice, and sex.
It turns out that threadworms (knows as "pinworms" in the US) are quite common in the UK, and most of the mums at the coffee morning had dealt with them at one point. Oh, my.
What is it about being ill that makes you want your mummy? I have a sore throat, I ache all over, my brain feels like it has been wrapped in a duvet, and my nose has regressed to the constant snotty drip of a toddler.
All I want is a gentle Angel of Mercy to mop my brow and roll out sympathetic platitudes on the hour. Better still, every half an hour.
Now that I am the mummy I just have to get on with it. It’s rubbish.
There’s just no margin for lounging in bed calling for grapes and lemsips when you have a child breathing down your next wanting to be entertained. Actually, make that two children (I have my niece staying over this weekend).
I expected our recent family visit to the dentist to be like all the others --"The children’s teeth look good, apart from the finger sucking, see you next year".
However, this time, my eight and 10-year-olds were referred to the hygienist. The nice South African dentist said the children were not brushing their teeth properly as evidenced by excess plaque build-up.
Yikes.
I had noticed that the evening teeth brushing routine was being raced through with strokes more akin to crazed bowing on a violin. I’m not sure when I lost control of the teeth brushing -- but I clearly had.
I have a deep, dark secret. I have hidden it from my closest friends for years. I tried to hide it from my mum, but she eventually found out.
My children used dummies until they were practically young adults.
OK, I'm exaggerating, but it sure seemed like my life was governed by dummies for ages. I should have given them up earlier, but as the years went by they became harder and harder to extricate from our lives.
We’ve only just been back at school. The standard school lice letter hasn’t even been sent home. Yet, we have nits again.
The days of being a smug “never had nits” family is sadly long past. It was so much easier when we just had a boy with very short hair. It's those girls with the flowing locks that ruined added to my long list of qualifications on my parent CV.
I don’t recall nits being part of my school life ... and neither does my mother. I have no idea what has changed since then but they are here and it's best to keep a fine tooth comb handy.
I love coffee mornings. Women get together and discuss all sorts of things that they wouldn’t dream of mentioning on the playground or at a dinner party.
This week the topics drifted from Sarah Palin (the UK is actually frightened) to Jerusalem artichokes (I had no idea!) to threadworms.
My ears perked up when the discussion turned to threadworms. It’s one of those topics people don’t often talk about in public, like flatulence, headlice, and sex.
It turns out that threadworms (knows as "pinworms" in the US) are quite common in the UK, and most of the mums at the coffee morning had dealt with them at one point.
Oh, my.
A couple of my daughters have been complaining lately of itching “down there” and I had put it down to, how shall I say this, a lack of understanding on how to use toilet paper properly.
I was dreading the dentist. I knew that he would comment yet again on how my 4 1/2-year-old should not suck her fingers.
I also knew I didn't have a plan to combat this habit -- apart from the occasional “serious” discussions about my daughter's future beauty and other equally unsuccessful activities.
However, this time the dentist had a plan...or at least tangible advice.
He produced a leaflet about thumb and finger guards which are sold in the UK and are apparently quite successful. Our dentist gave the product a resounding thumbs up and that’s all I needed.
I promptly went to Thumbguard and bought a finger guard for £49.99 plus the usual extras.
