I have decided

that time is going quicker and quicker each day. And the older I get, the quicker time goes.

Today annoyed me. Why? Because I relied upon someone to do something they said they would do and they didn't do it, and it changed my whole day.

I was to pick up a jacket I had purchased from ebay. It was massively cheap. And a lovely little jacket for Lexi. I got an email this morning saying the person would leave it out for me and I could call past and pick it up. Fine, sounds good, so I bundled the kids into the car (after the mandatory 20 minute preparation, which of course involved at least one child crapping their nappy right as we were about to leave) and off we went to travel the 20 odd km to pick up the jacket.

So we arrive, I go up the driveway, and no jacket. Fanfrickingtastic. I was rapt. No. Really. And of course I had not brought the chick's phone number with me. So I leave a message jotted down on an envelope in the chick's letterbox, and off we go. And as we turn the corner Lexi says "where's my jacket?". Oh. Crap. Why the hell did I tell her we were going to get a jacket for her?

So I try to explain to her that the lady wasn't there and that we couldn't get her jacket, and the tone of voice in which she was responding to questions was becoming decidely shaky and on the verge of tears. And then they came. And I thought great. Sensational. I'm rapt. And I did tell her we were going to get her a jacket. So I said "would you like to go to the shops to get one then?" And blow me down if she didn't bloody well say yes. Crap.

So there we go, headed to Watergardens again. Now if you remember the last time I went to Watergardens I vowed never to return. And that was with someone else with me as well as the three kids. This time I was on my Pat Malone.

Driving through the carpark I suddenly realised it was Saturday. And oh yes it just gets better. So we cut four or fifty laps of the carpark til finally I find one and zip in. I get Lexi out, tell her to stand by the pram that I had previously removed from the boot (that is my way of ensuring she stays put and doesn't get into mischief - I ask her to hold the pram so when I put Angus in it doesn't move....even though I do have the brakes on....it keeps her there), and I get Angus out and whack him in the pram quite unceremoniously and he is most unimpressed because he was asleep, and then I get Tabitha out of the car and it is then that the scent hits me.

So I lock the car, nappy bag on arm, kids in tow, and we head for the parents room to remove the offending odour from Tabitha. And it is once I have made it to the safety of the parents room that I realise that the nappy bag is distinctly lacking in baby wipes. And the day just gets better. So I wet toilet paper and try and make do as best I can, with Tabitha quite unhappy about the whole deal, Lexi trying to get out, and Angus looking at me as though I have deprived him of the best sleep he has ever had.

Nappy done. Jacket time. Target o'clock because we have a voucher. Gotta love vouchers. So in we go to the kids section. Lexi decides on a jacket. It is pink and fluffy and has Dora the Explorer on it. Great. So she tries it on, she loves it, and I stupidly ask as I remove it from her "So is that the one you want?" And she says "no". Great. Okay, so tell me a colour. Black, pink, purple, green, something. "Green". Do you know how hard it is to find a green jacket in Target? I'll tell you. Impossible. We did however find an aqua coloured hoody top and some aqua cords and they were close enough. No jacket, and not what we intended on getting, but they will get worn so it's fine. Grabbed a couple more pairs of tracksuit pants and away we went.

Checkouts. Designed by bastards. Why? Lollies. Everywhere. Great if you're an adult and can zip through, absolutely horrendous if you are a mother with two children who live at lollie level. So a bag of jelly beans, two meltdowns and several monumentally bad farts from god knows who later and we were out of Target. I opened the jelly beans, gave the girls 2 each, and off we went in search of the car. We made it back, I bundled all the kids in, and away we went.

Tabitha fell straight to sleep. I wasn't going to argue with that. Angus talked a while and then fell asleep. Also good. Lexi didn't. She decided that five minutes before we arrived home was a good time to fall asleep, and so awoke upon our arrival home as though she had been asleep for hours. Not ideal. And Angus also decided that he had had enough. Tabitha I put into bed and she slept a further two hours. That is gold.

So that was my morning. Totally unprepared for the adventure we had, but we survived it, hurdles and all, and I am vowing, again, never to return to Watergardens.

It will happen.

One day. I'm sure it will. What, you ask? I will drop the kids at daycare in the morning and I won't receive a phone call to go and pick one of them up. I'm sure it will happen.

Today I kinda needed them all to stay there. I had two essays that were due over a week ago that I got extensions for, which took me to Monday, which then wasn't going to happen so I begged for extensions til today, which I luckily got.

So I was hoping when I dropped all the kids off this morning, as healthy as they have been for a while, that I would get the whole day.

The morning was spent doing my sport and the law essay, which I did, and completed, and am pretty happy with.

This afternoon was put aside for my doozy essay on international law and world politics. Yep. Sounds about as thrilling as it is. I started it at around half 12. The phone rang at 3. I pick the kids up at 5 usually. If all goes to plan. Which it usually doesn't. So I probably should say I always "intend" to pick the kids up at 5.

So what was the matter? Lexi was upset. Very very upset. And nobody could console her. So of course I went straight down there, thinking as I was driving there that it wasn't too bad, I could just pick Lexi up and then head on to Aldi, do the groceries, then come back around via the childcare centre and pick up the other two, albeit it a little early, but no biggie, at least I would have got something done.

Yeah. Nah.

I arrived at the centre and walked through the door to have Lexi literally run over to me, arms outstretched screaming "Mummy is here!!" which is of course wonderful to hear, there is nothing nicer than hearing your child loving seeing you. So I explained to her that she should grab her bag and we would go just us to the supermarket and then come back and get Tabitha and Angus. Nothing. So I started walking to the door. And she started crying. Very upset crying. "Nooooooooooooooooooo! You've forgotten Tabitha and Angus!!!!!"

Ok. Looks like that plan is foiled.

So I got the other two and bundled everyone into the car. I must admit I said very little on the way home. I was thinking about how the hell I was going to get this essay done, and wondering what on earth to do about the groceries, particularly considering I have all of half a dozen nappies in the house for the girls at this present time. Then the logic kicked in and I realised there were a couple in each of their daycare bags, plus a couple in the nappy bag, and we'd be right until tomorrow.

So got home, then had to spend time doing an online grocery order (which I really didn't want to have to do), got that submitted, then sat Lexi down and asked her why I had to pick her up early from daycare today. Her answer? "Because I'm a bit of a sook." Well there you go. Could have knocked me down with a feather.

At least she's honest.

And so now, at 10.11pm I have, I think, finished my essay. If it isn't good enough, well, shit happens. I had a lot going on. I'm a bit of a perfectionist though so I hate submitting stuff that isn't up to my standards. This time there really was no option. Soooo so much has happened and so much of my time has been absorbed doing things I simply did not anticipate I would need to do (not the least of which has been countless doctor's appointments for Angus). Couple that with worry, non sleepers, and all the rest of the everything, and it makes for not exactly ideal study conditions.

So I'm off to do the cover sheet and submit the essay, possibly have a gin and tonic, then hit the hay. I'm seriously exhausted.

Oh dear.

It has come to that. I just reread my last entry, and consequently edited it. Why? Because I realised that I had in fact written the exact same thing in the last entry. Why? God, because I haven't bloody slept enough that's why!!!!!! And how did I realise? Because I got a comment on the previous entry that referred to something that I had written in the last entry and thought how odd that they would refer to that if it was in a different post, so I went and looked and lo and behold I'm not all there.

So I can take this opportunity to tell you that I have children's songs coursing through my head at the rate of knots. Hey diddle diddle has been going pretty strongly, but I'm a little teapot seems to be my subconscious's favourite children's song.

Another random - I asked Tabitha if she wanted her nappy changed. "No thank you". Love it. "Are you ready to hop out of the bath?" "No thank you". Love it. Seriously love it. I am pretty fastidious when it comes to manners. I think there is no excuse for a lack of manners - all it takes it constant reinforcement. I just hate people saying "can I have this" without so much as a please. So every time the girls ask for something, if they don't say please I either prompt, or depending on the situation, just wait. And they get it. They really do.

I'm trying to do my essays but mini dude isn't comfortable. He had a five day course of penicillin but his ears are still hurting him. At first, before they diagnosed the double ear infection, I thought his pulling his ears was teething. This is so obviously not teething it is ridiculous. Poor baby. My poor poor baby. And he is SUCH a good kid. I kid you not, he does totally rock. My best so far (baby wise I mean, not kid wise, but you know what I mean).

Anyway, I had a point, said point is gone, so I'm offski again. Try to get some more essay done, and see what happens. If I do happen to repeat myself, please forgive me, I am very sleep deprived.

Some random things

Today I thought I would let you in on some of the random things that have happened or the kids have said that I haven't mentioned to this point, just as a little break in the proceedings so to speak. Some are hilarious, some are odd, and some are rather disgusting, but then again children can be now can't they?

Lexi likes to tell me about her bum. As you would. Some of the phrases we have heard of late are "mum, my bum, it STINKS" (and she wasn't wrong). The other day she excitedly came up to me and said "mummy, mummy, my bum, I've done farts, and wees AND poos!!" She was most proud.

Tabitha has also lately taken to advising me she has done a poo. It's fairly handy actually, although I must admit she doesn't really need to tell me....it is fairly obvious.....

I sneezed today. Tabitha said "Bless you". Lexi looked at me with a smile and said "you're a dag."

Lexi got a toy kitchen for her birthday, which she adores (yay!). First thing she said as she started playing with it? "Oh it's hot, I burned my finger." Wonder where she got that from..... She also made me a toy coffee this morning. Gotta love that kid. Tabitha is intent on feeding me for some reason, keeps bringing a spoon over and saying "want some?" whilst shoving the spoon in my mouth.

There were plenty more things I wanted to write here but I'm going to have to pop these children to bed soon so should flee. But I might do this again soon.......love the random things they do and say.

And another five days

has passed since my last post. And it feels like a moment. A lot has happened.

The xray was normal. Great news, means that 99% sure it is not hip dysplasia, which is a relief. However the problem is still there, we just have less of an idea as to what could be causing it. Friday we see the paediatrician and hopefully get a little more of an idea.

I should mention that although we are seeing the paediatrician about his hips, that is not the reason for which we were referred. It was his breathing. He has very noisy breathing, as did Tabitha. And when I took him back for a check up of the horrendous ear infections he had suffered, I was told that 99% sure the cause of it was tracheomalacia - a malformation of the trachea, the windpipe. His breathing noise is not caused by bronchiolitis (which is what Tabitha had been diagnosed with, repeatedly, and now looking at this I think perhaps erroneously) but by an inability of his windpipe to function as normal. Whereas in normal folks it is solid, in those with tracheomalacia it is flaccid and malleable, meaning that every time a breath is taken in or one is expelled, the skin literally falls over the air passage. Terrifying stuff really. So we find out for sure on Friday. Or not for sure. We may just get referred for more tests. It's fairly exhausting. 

Easter happened. And it was pretty good I must say. I'm allergic to chocolate so don't partake in the whole egg thing, but the girls eat chocolate (although they don't 'love' it like some kids, probably because they rarely get it poor things) and they adored seeing the easter bunny had visited. Lexi was fairly hesitant to emerge from her room upon seeing that someone had in fact eaten half the carrot and the three biscuits we had left out for the easter bunny. But slowly slowly she edged towards the table to see what the magical bunny had left her, and all was good. When she realised there were little eggs and chickies hidden throughout the toy room she was beside herself. And it wasn't the chocolate, as she really isn't a huge rap for it, it was the finding. "There's one!!!" came the cries from the shelves, "and another one!!!" from the toy sofas. Absolutely fabulous to watch. Tabitha was happy to collect all the eggs in a bowl, walking along with said bowl, eggs spilling out everywhere, but no matter, they were just more eggs to collect. And so easter was good. Very very good.

Then today, Anzac Day, is my baby Lexi's birthday. She was 3. Every day for about 4 months she wakes and almost before she says good morning, or wants breakfast, she says "It's my birthday today, no?". Wonderfully French sentence construction there. And so today I was able to say "it's your birthday, and the smile she gave me was enough to light up the entire planet.

I got her a few little things, some butterflies to decorate her room, some cookie cutters to make biscuits with mum, and a sand art kit too as she loves her arts and crafts, but her "main" present proved to be as successful with her as I had hoped it would be. See Lexi loves to cook. I could be making toast and she would want to help. She stirs ingredients in bowls, helps to measure things out, and just loves to 'create' in the kitchen. So I got her a toy kitchen. She adores it. I am rapt.

We had a family gathering today and she was able to play with her cousins and aunties and uncles and grandparents, as were the others, and it was a lovely day. This was coupled with the fact that for weeks she had said she wanted a bbq for her birthday, so I found a cheap bbq on gumtree and we did just that. We had a bbq for her birthday.

So my baby is 3. After many many months, I no longer have three under three. And whereas previously I thought I would feel some sense of immense relief knowing that that psychological block has been lifted, I find myself with a tear in my eye. For it is becoming ever more noticeable that my babies are growing up. At a rate that is simply not acceptable but is impossible to stop.

I have essays due. Two of them. Today. They are not done. It was only a few days ago that Angus settled enough to be happy for me to put him down for more than a half hour or so. So not a great deal has been achieved. I have emailed my lecturers to ask for extensions on the existing week long extensions that had been granted, and due to the easter break have not yet heard. But there is little I can do. I am aiming for Wednesday for completion of these essays, and really I can only do what I can do.

On a lighter note sleep deprivation will do strange things to you. Tabitha still doesn't sleep through. And so the other night whilst going in to change her nappy and give her a bottle I did as I do and I went back to bed. 5.30am or thereabouts the cry to get up occurred, so I dutifully dragged my weary bones from bed and picked Tabitha up and popped her on the sofa. She started whinging. Bottle? No. Still kind of asleep? No. What was it? I had no idea. Until I looked down and realised that when I had done the dream nappy change I had put both her legs into the one pant leg on her pyjamas. She literally couldn't move. Poor mini chick.

Four more days to find out what's happening with mini dude. Four days. And as time flies, these days will drag, because that is the way it goes. When it is something you look forward to it drags. When it is something that may well change your life, it drags more than a cart with no wheels.

I'm staying hopeful. There isn't a great deal more I can do. Day by day. Day by day. And there are so many people worse off in the world, I should be grateful. But I still worry. I'm a mum. That's what we do.

Has it really been

five days since I last wrote??

The days are long, the nights are longer, and each day at the moment is a struggle. People say sleep deprivation is torture. It is. That much is true. I am experiencing it, and have experienced it for the last almost 2 years. What is worse is when there is something wrong with your child or children. That is much worse. Much much worse. And even worse is when you don't know what it is that is wrong.

So I'm spending my nights tending to the various needs of the different kids, whether that be dream nappy changes, stopping them throwing themselves against a wall in the midst of a night terror, or simply cuddling because the pain of ear infection is so great, that's what I do. And when I'm not doing that I'm sitting here. Wondering. And waiting.

I am not a negative person. But at the moment I am struggling to find the positives. I love my children and they are my world. Definite positive. And they are great (most of the time). Definite positive. That's all I have. The rest is negative. Oh, except their daycare centre. MASSIVE positive. They love it there and I love them going there, the staff are fabulous and so caring, and it is just a lovely place for them to be.

But yep. That's me. I'm not myself. I think that's why I'm not writing much. Because I don't recognise the person that is coming through in the words.

I can only stay strong for so long. I think that time is up.

I haven't forgotten

about this blog. I have however had a bastard of a week.

A few weeks ago I noticed a clunk in mini dude's hip, so Tuesday was the day to take him to CHN just as a precautionary measure, get him checked out and measured and whatnot. And, as it would seem, find out that his skin folds are uneven and one leg is longer than the other. So doctor's appointment was scheduled for Wednesday, which is usually a daycare day for the three kids so I can get my uni work done.

So the next morning I drop the girls off, explain to the staff what's going on, then come home, do uni for an hour then head out to the doctor to have it confirmed that one leg is in fact an entire centimetre longer than the other. And to top it all off the rattly chest he has had for some time is still loitering so that will need checking out also. So referral for ultrasound and paediatrician taken away from the doctor and I drop mini dude off at daycare with the hopes that I'll at least have four hours to do some study in the afternoon.

I get home, have done maybe an hour and the phone rings. Lexi has a temp of 40.5, come and get her. So of course I race out the door, tear in to her room to see her all snuggled up with one of the staff members (which she is not usually likely to do), and boiling hot poor baby. As I pick her up the chick from Angus's room comes in and says she is glad she caught me because Angus hasn't settled since I dropped him off and he needs to go home too. So I figure may as well grab Tabitha considering I'm obviously not going to get anything done.

We get home, Panadol, early night. Early night that turns into incredibly restless night, about which I am not surprised. Tabitha also is more unsettled than usual, whether that is due to her feeding off Lexi's unsettledness or otherwise I have no idea. And so Thursday was a PJ day spent alternating Panadol and Nurofen to try and tame the temperature that kept rising. And we did have quite a relaxed day which was needed, although all of us sick with colds and Lexi quite unwell with fevers there was not a lot achieved. Fast forward to today. Morning was not terrifically eventful, but late morning came lethargy, general malaise, and Lexi having a nap for 2.5 hours when she doesn't usually have a day sleep at all. She had also had a nap the day before. Upon awakening her temp was 39.7. And I couldn't give her anything. So I bundled everyone into the car and off to the doctor we went, where we waited for some time, Tabitha ran around exploring, which was great to see as she usually just hangs off me, Angus chilled in the pram and Lexi just sat on my lap cuddling me telling me she felt hot and sick.

Tonsillitis. And a virus. Antibiotics. So I dragged the kids over to the chemist, got what we needed and some other bits and bobs we had run out of, back into the car, by which time it was 5pm, visited my uncle (I speak of the colonel, but he and I are so close he's like that honorary uncle you have) and came home to have some food. Lexi wasn't interested, which didn't surprise me, Tabitha had a good feed of some nuggets and chips (highly healthy of course), a few episodes of Play School and into bed they go. Angus didn't think he should though. He slept for perhaps half an hour then woke up quite unimpressed with the world. And remained that way for nearly an hour. In between this time I was actually able to hear a phenomenal song on American Idol with Hayley and Casey singing (if you can google it and listen I highly recommend it).

This morning I bit the bullet and emailed my lecturer to advise him that much as I was trying to avoid asking for an extension the events of the last few days have necessitated it, predominantly because I simply don't know how many more days the kids will be ill. So I have an extra week thank god.

And next Wednesday is mini dude's ultrasound with the paediatrician appointment the following Friday. I am hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. It doesn't really look great as it is quite a marked difference in leg lengths which usually indicates developmental dysplasia of the hip.

So we shall see. And hope.

A serious battle

of wills just took place. Me versus Tabitha.

Here's the thing. Tabitha is not a good eater. If you looked at her you would disagree, as she is my Botticelli cherub with Reubenesque features, yet she doesn't eat much at all. Lexi on the other hand would eat the equivalent of an adult male. Every day. Without fail. And doesn't put on a gram. She, like her father, is built somewhat like a bean. Not a broad bean, a string bean. Tabitha's the broad bean.

Anyway, Tabitha is very fussy with her food (again opposite to Lexi who would eat leather if it had sauce on it). Consequently she picks and pokes and often times just simply doesn't eat. There is not a huge amount that I can do about it. I have tried repeatedly beating myself up about it but funnily enough that doesn't actually achieve anything, so I settle for if she has a couple of mouthfuls every now and then (that I have stealthily hidden vegetables in) then we're in front.

Tonight I wasn't going to budge. As soon as she got in the car tonight she asked for a bottle. I said to her that she needed to eat some dinner first and then after dinner she could have a bottle. She kept asking. Over and over. Like a skipping CD (notice how I have replaced the broken record saying with skipping CD...I'm so with the times...) she asked over and over and over, and every time I had the same answer. So when we got home I made the girls dinner (Lexi's request of scrambled eggs, nothing flash, and I was happy to oblige because it's quick and easy and a nice little protein hit for them). I got them both a drink and sat them down at the table with a little fork each, tiny squirt of tomato sauce (nice little potassium booster there) and Robert's your father's brother (or Bob's your uncle), dinner is served.

But no. Tabitha did not want dinner. She wanted a bottle. She obviously really wanted a bottle. I mean really. Vocally. And so when I reiterated that which I had said earlier, which was "no", she proceeded to throw herself onto the ground screaming. Oh. Kay. As you do. So I let her. And I repeated "you can have a bottle after you eat dinner". She screamed. Bloodcurdling. Then "I WANT A BOTTLE". Hmmm. Firstly, no please. Big no no for mummy manners stickler. Secondly, um, no. Not when you ask like that in that tone. And thirdly, yep, nope, you didn't eat your dinner.

So we continued on. And the squealing commenced, interspersed with screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing herself on the ground, stamping feet, pummeling fists, crying, sobbing, screaming, yelling. You get the gist. This went on for some time. After about five or six minutes I weakened ever so slightly. One bite of dinner. That's all. Then she could have a bottle. Ah and then the screaming got louder. I told her it was very simple - one bite of dinner and she could have a bottle. To and fro, to and fro, to and fro.

And then it happened. She settled down. We made eye contact. No words were spoken. And she stood up and walked over to the table and looked at her plate. I pretended not to watch, and was talking to Lexi about the starfish she was playing with. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tabitha climb up onto her seat, sit, look around, and gingerly pick up a piece of egg and pop it into her mouth. And she didn't just have one bite, she sat there and ate the whole plate.

And my god I feel like I won the bloody lottery.

Mum - 1. Tabitha - 0. But she ate dinner. I still can't believe it. Senbloodysational.

And that really takes precedence over everything else that happened. Takes precedence over the fact that I got a good schlack of one of my essays done. Takes precedence over the fact that I had to have the "don't put sand down your nappy" talk with Lexi. It really just made my day.

Smiling smiling. It's the little things.

Mum,

you have a big bum. Oh yes, they are the words you long to hear your 2 year old say. I can't begin to describe the feelings that went through my mind when she said that. I was, at the time, crouched on the floor playing with mini dude, with my butt unceremoniously wagging in the air, making it look ever bigger, but it's always comforting to hear those words 'out of the mouths of babes'.

We had a PJ day today. Everyone stayed in pjs all day. I did have a shower this morning (one thing I do try and do every day just to retain sanity) however was slothing in "house clothes". I think it's nice to do every now and then. The girls certainly seem to get a kick out of it. We did a trial run of Lexi's birthday cake today - a strawberry cake. And I'm an idiot. Because I tried a piece. Ah well, it was nice, but the mix had a half cup of milk in it and since having Angus I just can't seem to handle any milk at all, whereas before I could have a teensy bit, as in if it were in a cake in the proportions of the cake we made today it would be fine. No longer though. Lesson learned. And I will no doubt stuff up again, cos I do. You do tend to forget things like that. When it isn't outwardly evident at first glance (even if you have made it yourself) that there is dairy in something, you eat it, enjoy it, then hours later realise what it is that you have done and wait for the lactose intolerance to wreak its havoc upon your unsuspecting body, and then a few hours later, and a few kilos lighter, you vow never to do it again. But you will. Cos you do.

Do you ever have days when it doesn't matter how many times you say something it falls on deaf ears?? Well, today was one of those. And the thing is the things I am saying are not purely for the joy of depriving the kids of joy (not that that is a joy but you know what I mean) but to protect them. Say for example if I am getting the cake out of the oven and ask them to stand back. I ask them this so they don't get burned - not to deprive them of the joy of seeing a cake come out of the oven (joy is the word of the day in case you hadn't realised). So yes, it was one of those days.

We have school tomorrow (thank god) and that means I can get the house cleaned up (hopefully in the first hour or so after dropping the kids off) and then get stuck into these bloody essays. I managed to get the first one in, albeit working under extremely ordinary circumstances what with being sick as a bloody dog and all. But it got submitted, and hopefully will pass and even do ok. We shall see I guess. The next couple are not quite so simple and I will need all the time I can get. So I'm going to try and focus. Doesn't help that I forgot to order coffee in my bloody online shopping order which arrived this morning. AND it arrived at 8am. On the dot. Great you say? Well no, not really. I had requested the 9-11 time slot. And when I mentioned this to Mr Delivery Man (who, coincidentally, did not speak English terrifically well) his reply was "I came early". Typical male I guess.

Anyway, the shopping arrived, that was good, I could then bake. And make myself sick. Sensational.

Hmmm, not exactly positive so far is it.....let's change that shall we. How. Hmm. Tabitha was wanting cuddles and repeatedly saying "my turn" while standing in front of me. Lexi then saw this and tried to jump in. I said to her "no darling, Tabitha needs some time too, you had lovely cuddles with mummy before, it's Tabitha's turn now". Lexi's reply? "But I want lovely cuddles now!" Ah so cute.

Angus has two teeth. And more on the way. He's been not very happy today, wrenching at his little ears and generally pretty unhappy with the world. I wouldn't be surprised if more teeth surface in the next week or two. Or month. That's the problem with teeth. They can teeth for what seems like an eternity before one shows up. And even then the little bastards can go back down again. Brutal. I maintain babies should be born with all their teeth.

I should really go to bed. Angus is obviously going to sleep through his 10pm feed, given that it is 10.30pm. Athough what's the bet that as soon as I lie down he wakes up..... them's the breaks hey. And if you assume they will wake up that's when they don't. I have mentioned assumptions on several occasions....

So for now I might try and get at least half a zed and see how I go.

3.52am

seems to be the time of choice for Angus to wake up and let the world know he knows how to make sound. It's been the exact same time the last few mornings. And yes, it is a bit tiring. He isn't crying, so I should be happy about that, but holy crap he is loud. I mean loud. By far the loudest of all the kids so far. SUCH a strong set of lungs. I am going by the theory that because I had steroids at 27 weeks when I first went into labour, his lungs are extra developed and he's trying to show me this. And the rest of the world of course, because there has to be at least one or two families in the street that can hear his bellows at 3.52am.

I had my ultrasound a few days ago. What I did discover is that I have very photogenic organs. And they all look perfect. So whilst I have not found exactly what is wrong, because of how I was feeling I had a barrage of tests which have shown me that my tired and weary 37 year old body is absolutely fighting fit, which whilst I'm still a bit ill, is actually pretty reassuring to know. I accidentally had a full physical and got a clean bill of health (except for the whole still being sick thing of course). Not sure where to go from here though. I am definitely feeling better than I have been, however still have some niggling nasties to annoy me. Just hoping that time will do the thing it is supposed to and 'heal all wounds'.

We've been doing a bit of cooking lately. As you know Lexi does love to cook, and now Tabitha has got into the act. They drag a chair across to the kitchen bench and have a bowl and spoon, waiting patiently for something to be placed in said bowl so that they can "mix please". Yesterday was hilarious though. Lexi had her bowl and spoon, but Tabitha had not. Tabitha climbed up onto the chair that Lexi had brought over and started mixing Lexi's mock cake mix. Lexi was not happy, for the mock cake was hers to mix, not Tabitha's, so there were tears, there was Lexi attempting to remove Tabitha from the chair, in a less than gracious manner, so I quickly jumped to attention and got Tabitha her own bowl, spoon and chair, so that both girls could mock mix their mock cake together. Ah yes the things we do.

Angus crawled yesterday. Well, I'm claiming it as a crawl anyway. One arm, one leg, did the crawl action. He's been rocking back and forth for such a long time, I can literally watch him for hours thinking he'll go that next step, and he doesn't. He either rolls over or just plops onto the ground, usually with a bit of a thud and some tears to follow. But yesterday he did keep going, not for long, but long enough that, as I said, I can claim a crawl. Will be interesting to see if he does this again today or has a few days to recover from what must have been something completely different experience wise for him.

Watching a day in the life of a baby does seem quite boring - they don't really do a lot. But if you think about it, for them they are doing heaps. They are using muscles they have never used, they are discovering ways to use their body (and voice as the case may be) that prior to then they simply never knew existed. They are finding out that a soft toy green sheep is a lot nicer to cuddle than a shoe (or perhaps not, depending upon the child - all mine seem to have a fascination with shoes). And each day there is one little thing that they do that they haven't done the day before. It may be just a way they have reached towards something, or balancing on toes instead of on knees, but their learning curve is an exponential wave of growth. And there will be more.

The same goes with toddlers and little kidlets. Every day they learn more. They are little sponges. The girls will sit and watch play school and each day they'll be a bit more involved, copying the moves the presenters do when dancing, repeating their words. Tabitha does the Hokey Pokey with the best of them, and yesterday I smiled all over when I listened to her watching a 'cowboy' episode and let out a little "yeeeeehaaaaaa". Lexi seems to greatly enjoy singing along with them, although sadly she does not possess an angelic singing voice. But she tries.

I just love watching them grow. It is heartwarming. And I can't wait for them to get just that tiny little bit older so I can say to them "mummy needs sleep you aren't allowed out of bed before 7am". In the most loving way of course.

It's amazing

how much we take for granted. And I don't have my mummy hat on here, I have my "me" hat on. The main thing I'm talking about is health. We assume that we will wake up in the morning, whatever time that may be (and for me it is around 4.50am as Angus hasn't quite grasped the whole daylight savings concept) and will be able to carry out our duties, motherly or otherwise, and get through the day.

The last three days that hasn't happened. I haven't been able to. I started vomiting three days ago and since then just went downhill to the point where I was sure I was having a heart attack. The ECG I got yesterday ensured I wasn't, and the chest xray also came back clear, however the pain remained, and I was physically unable to do pretty well anything.

I now have some pretty full on painkillers which have allowed me to function this afternoon and this evening, albeit with a very fuzzy glow, but functioning I am. And tomorrow the ultrasound will let me know if there is anything to really worry about.

I'm not dwelling on the whole being sick thing, I hate being sick, and I hate not being able to do the things that I am used to doing every day, however menial or mundane they may be. I just hate feeling as though I'm letting my kids down. It does make you realise your own mortality though, when you have something like this happen.

I'm thankful to friends and family for helping me when I really needed it. Like really needed it. I'm not one to ask for help as a general rule, unless there is no other alternative. I don't know why. I think that in my mind I feel as though to ask for help is a sign of weakness. But thinking about it like that I don't understand why I actually feel that way. Perhaps I never will.

Anyway, I guess I just popped on here to say I'm still here, a little worse for wear, but still here, and hoping that tomorrow may just shed some light upon the whole situation.

I will leave you with a Tabitha moment. It was cold the other night so I asked her, while she was in bed, if she wanted socks. She said yes. So I put socks on her, gave her a kiss goodnight, then left. I then heard repeated cries of mummy mummy mummy. Fearing she had hurt herself I rushed in, only to find her sitting upright in bed. "What is it Tabitha?" I said. "I want shoes." Makes sense I guess.

Why is it

that on nights when you know you need to be up early in the morning the kids seem more unsettled? Is it because they want to see you under pressure and see how well you hold up? Or perhaps they sense that you are either anxious, or worried that you won't sleep, and all these emotions rub off on them. I am a bit of a believer in kids feeding off your mood. Much as I believe that it doesn't stop me losing my cool every now and then. It's those times you then need to just walk away, let the kid cry for a couple of minutes, while you breathe, distance yourself, lose the angst, walk back in and start over.

I did manage to get just under an hour's sleep last night, so I guess it could have been worse. It could have been no sleep. All it means is that today I am ferreting around in the fridge and traipsing a path back and forth between the sofa and the kettle. I seem to eat more when I'm exhausted. It isn't that I'm hungry, it is more that I need to be doing something (preferably something that requires little to no brain power) but a something that is sufficient to keep me awake. Eating works well because your body will rarely let you munch on a dry biscuit then fall into deep sleep halfway through. See? Logical isn't it? Bet you wonder why you didn't think of that.

The whole brain dead kind of vegetative state I find myself in today is not terrifically conducive to anything productive. I Have three essays due, that I really need to get stuck into, however I fear today is not the day to have that occur, lest I wish to read them tomorrow to find that instead of writing an indepth analysis of human rights and their relationship to anti-terrorism laws I have written my shopping list, with a reference to Kofi Annan, or some double double name like Boutros Boutros. Writing in a state of unsleep is quite interesting. For poetry. Or novels. Not so much for legal essays.

Maybe I should write a poem........ I think it would start something like this......

Eyelids falling like overripe fruit from a tree
Is there any coke in the fridge, or perhaps red bull?
Thank heavens for leftover Noodle Box for I shall not cook tonight.
What time does Play School start?

So you see, the genius, it just flows. Amazing what the brain can do without any sleep. And tomorrow I'll read this and say some form of what the hell is that and then go on as if today never happened.

Better go my coffee is getting cold, and my cheese and crackers are being eyed off by middle daughter so i had better scoff them before she makes it to the plate......

I'm thinking

that I have had enough of a break. Life sometimes gets on top of you. Not always in a bad way. Sometimes just in a way that makes you say Okay I'm just going to stop everything for a while and just breathe.

So I breathed.

And I feel better now.

Talk to you soon.......