Happy Birthday!

Your confidence is rocketing and you are brimming with adventure.  You’ve kept me on your toes for six whole years … Grandma still can’t watch you when you play in the garden, all that jumping and whizzing around makes her nervous.

After having your third set of grommets put in and your adenoids removed five months ago you can not only hear but you have also stopped snoring.

You like things ‘just so’ down to the sheets on your bed, which underpants you prefer to wear and where the sauce has to be on the plate.  You get that from your Dad. The clumsy bit? … that’s all my fault.

You and your sister seem to argue more often than not at the moment. Last week, though, I woke up to find you both snuggled up in your bed chatting and giggling. It more than made up for all the arguing.

You seem to be turning into an entertainer … mainly for the family.  Your confidence isn’t such that you’ll perform for just anyone yet.  You like to make people laugh while maintaining a dead pan expression. That is a good thing. A lover of slapstick comedy, you recreate amusing scenes for your sister.  It makes her laugh so hard that her tummy hurts.

School is a necessary evil, you get on and do what is expected of you, your reading has taken off and you have lots of friends.  You live for playtime, PE and the weekend. “PE is great” you said today “But getting dressed after PE is boring” and then shortly after “How many days until the weekend?”.

You enjoy your own company … taking yourself off to just be, playing a game, drawing a football match, doing stunts in the garden or playing with the dogs.

As you turn six your favourite things are: Football, the Xbox, running, jumping, being outside, pain au chocolat, planets, snooker, having your duvet tucked in a certain fashion before you go to sleep, your bike, biffing with your big cousin F.

Keep entertaining, my beautiful blue eyed boy, make people laugh until they can laugh no more. Be your own person and look after your sister. Six will be a breeze.

All my love

Mum x

The 5 year old has had three operations, on his ears, in 2 years. Each time when he has woken from the anaesthetic the nurse has given him a plate of toast, spread with butter.  This is the highlight of his hospital trips. Occasionally, at home, he will ask for ‘hospital toast’. Being something that he obviously enjoys I have been surprised that he hasn’t asked for it more often.

Last week, shortly after he came round, after his operation, the nurse brought him two slices of toast with butter. Laid in his pyjamas, watching CBeebies, with headphones on he munched that toast like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

When he’d finished the last piece he sat up, took his headphones off, and looked at me.

“Mummy, maybe you should ask the nurse how to make hospital toast properly” and with that he went back to watching CBeebies and hoovering up the crumbs from his plate.

He can make his own hospital toast from now on.

The wait between arriving at hospital and going to theatre was anything but boring.  We were able to paint, borrow a DS, watch CBeebies, read and a hospital teacher came round the ward and asked if the 5 year old wanted to do some worksheets.  We were even given a goodie bag from the Starlight Foundation a charity which believes that lifting children’s spirits in hospital makes them respond better to treatment.

On the way to theatre I mentioned that due to a recent blood sucking incident when the 5 year old had a blood test that he wasn’t too keen on needles.  The anesthesiologist excitedly announced that he’d give him laughing gas.

As the 5 year old lay on the bed   just off the operating theatre I could see his mood change.  He was scared, searching my face for reassurance.  The anesthesiologist was brilliant, put us both at ease and explained what would happen with the gas.  He held it over the 5 year old’s face and started telling him a story about wizards and socks (which I’m sure will be the theme of his dreams for weeks to come).  After a quick flail around, “They all do that at this stage, they think they’re flying”, he was asleep. I went and waited outside theatre where I paced and assumed the position of nervous parent.

After what felt like a lifetime my boy appeared through the double doors on a trolley, half asleep and disorientated. Four hours later we were allowed home with the surprise clause that the 5 year old had to be housebound for a week due to the risk of infection after adenoid removal.

I’m lucky that I can work from home but I’m already twitching and I may have a slightly wild panicked look about me and it’s only day 1. How can I keep him occupied, within the confines of our home, for 7 days without him wanting to swap me for a new model and me hitting the gin at lunchtime.  He’s such an active child, we are used to being outside, and apart from a sore throat from the operation he’s absolutely fine … bouncing around once more.

I’ve rung school and asked for some work and reading books to be sent home, we’ve made a Lego Duplo ‘skateparkzoogarage’, watched Toy Story 3 and now I’m working out how I could assemble an assault course, in our living room, to wear him out.

Send gin, cake and a large supply of comics, it’s going to be a long week.

This photo is of the 5 year old at Easter.  Our Scottish friends were staying with us and we spent Easter weekend surrounded by friends and family having fun. The 5 year old had just fallen over and had hurt himself.  A minute before it was taken he was crying, he’d fallen over, but our Scottish friend who is out of the shot was pulling faces.

Today the 5 year old will have his third … yes THIRD ear operation.  He’s having grommets fitted again and having his adenoids taken out.

In a few hours I will stand in the white room, holding my apprehensive boy’s hand, as the anesthesiologist tells him to count to ten.  I know that he’ll only get to four, that he will be fast asleep before he gets the chance to say “five”, clutching Lulu and I know that he will be safe and well looked after.  As I look at him on that bed being wheeled through to the operating theatre my eyes will prick and my heart will cry out to hold my little boy and keep him close.  I’ll pace up and down outside the operating theatre thinking of that day in Easter … my little boy with his happy face and his big spirit and I’ll know that everything will be OK.

Two weeks ago a Doctor checked him over and said that his grommets were in place and that maybe his hearing loss was to do with his glands and sore throat.  It seemed like a plausible explanation.

Seeing no improvement, with the 5 year old telling me he still couldn’t hear and saying “Pardon … What?” lots I took him back.

A different Doctor examined him and it turns out that one of his grommets has indeed fallen out.

I’m relieved it is only the one ear but also feeling dread.  The 5 year old’s loss of hearing has, in the past, affected his speech, confidence and schooling.  His hearing, when poor, has been described as having your head under water.

Since the last operation just under a year ago his confidence has grown and at a recent parent evening the teacher was amazed at how well he’s doing.  He’s a happy confident boy, with a good social circle.  She said that over the past six months something has just fallen into place.

I have started the hurdle jumping by bringing his six monthly check-up three months forward to May by sweet talking a hospital secretary who told me that the ENT Department was a total mess at the moment. I saw a newspaper headline yesterday that said that our local hospital is to undergo several staffing cuts in the very near future.

At this appointment they will tell us what we already know; that his grommet has fallen out and that he can’t hear properly.  They’ll then tell us he’ll be put on a waiting list and will have another grommet put in within six months.

Six months of talking in a LOUD voice to a frustrated 5 year old is a long time.

The morning of the operation was pretty uneventful.  Lots of waiting around, convincing the anaesthesiologist that the 4 year old had only had a teeny weeny sip of milk before 6.30 was difficult and instead of being first down to theatre he was bumped down the list to fourth.

When we got down to theatre and it was time for him to be put under the anaesthesiologist disappeared for 20 minutes and my boy, who up until this point had been cool as a cucumber, now had a wobbly lip and looked scared.  

I jollied him along and when they finally put him out for the operation my bottom lip wobbled a bit too.

40 minutes later he was back up on the ward drinking Ribena, eating toast and watching CBeebies.  A little bit dizzy, he said, but happy as larry.

I sat with him for an hour then I told the nurse I was nipping down to the car to add time to my parking. She said she’d look after him and after telling him where I was going I pootled off.  

Less than 5 minutes later I was back, and there were a few people standing round the 4 year old’s bed.  He was sat drinking Ribena, eating toast and watching CBeebies, as he had been when I left him, only he had a bright red cheek.

It transpired that the mother of the boy next door had pulled the curtain round the bed so she could dress her son.  My boy had somehow hurled himself through the curtain giving her the shock of her life.  He hit his cheek on the chair and got up and got back into bed, totally non plussed.

An hour later we were home, four hours later we were at the school fair.  The following day he started complaining about noise.  Not only could he hear his sister singing but the man four doors down cutting his lawn.

A fortnight later and there is a marked improvement in his balance, his behaviour, speech … everything.  Fingers crossed they stay in this time.

Last year the 4 year old had grommets fitted. After months of ear infections, glue ear and intermittent deafness it was life changing. 

Finally my partially deaf boy could hear.  He started to come out of himself … talk more.  His sister stopped talking for him and his speech became clearer.

Unfortunately his grommets fell out of the little hole in his ear drum into his ear canal a couple of months ago. 

Everyone noticed immediately that he couldn’t hear properly again.  Because we noticed straight away we have been over compensating, talking loudly, and making sure we have his full attention when we are speaking to him.  His speech has started to suffer again though, it’s frustrating for him and us.

He had his long awaited hearing test this week at the hospital which confirmed what we already knew.  His ears are full of fluid again and he’s now back on the waiting list for another set of grommets. 

Fingers crossed he gets seen soon (apparently within 2 months) and that they stay in this time.

I have to credit The Teenager with this lovely shot of the 4 year old.  She is a budding photographer and very good at it too.

The Husband is so bloody busy that he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. He’s stacked out with design work for at least the next six months.  He may be bloody busy but he’s got a twinkle in his eye again.

Someone else who is twinkling at the moment is The 5 Year Old.  Firstly, she got a glowing report at parent’s evening last week and, secondly, managed to swim a length of the pool without armbands … thanks to Gramps and his swimming lessons! We go to Italy during Spring Break so it will be nice to see her swimming unaided.

Our Landlord wants to sell the house, so in 4 months we will be moving AGAIN, this time to a house where we will be staying for a looooong time. I am planning a huge clutter cull which means I’ll be spending hours uploading things onto ebay.

First thing that might go on ebay is The Car which is still very poorly … we are having to charge the battery before any trips and then wait for the engine to cut out long after the keys have been taken out of the ignition.    

I’m quite enjoying walking to school and work … when it’s not raining.  The children, however, are losing their enthusiasm for walking to school …

… particularly The 4 year old who has fully recovered from the chicken pox but is deaf again.  He had grommets fitted last year and they fell out into his ear canal just after Christmas.  Now it seems they have somehow made their way back to where they were but he can’t hear anything.  I find myself talking to him both loud and slowly.  The next step is a hearing test to confirm what we already know and then I imagine some sort of operation to either replace or correct his grommets.  In the meantime he has to struggle on in his own little hard of hearing bubble. 

The Dog hasn’t been sick recently and seems to have stopped moulting, which is a vast improvement on recent months.

Me?  I’m looking forward to Easter.  We’re going up to Scotland for Easter where we will be doing our family egg roll.  I have been practicing and think that I stand a chance of bringing the Egg Rolling Championship Cup home.  Who am I kidding? 

I am feeling the need for a wee blogoliday to do some reading in the bath.  I’m currently reading Half of a Yellow Sun. It’s the sort of book that I can’t put down and I don’t want it to end. 

I also need to catch up on lots of little jobs; I have some writing commitments that have fallen by the wayside but I need to catch up on self preservation mainly … if you could see my unruly eyebrows you’d be worried. 

Let’s not speak of any other ‘hairy’ areas.

So I shall see you all next week.  Have a good weekend people!

Abandoning the car I deposited the children at school and walked to work in a mock skiing style.  I arrived at work still clutching the 3 year old’s Ben 10 lunchbox. 

Tuesday - After spending an awful lot of time over the weekend fiddling in his ears, the 3 year old proudly told me “It’s OK Mummy, the little balls have fallen out of my ears”. In blind panic I booked a Dr’s appointment. It seems that one of his grommets has fallen out into his ear canal and he has an ear infection.  So, what are they going to do?  No worries, says the Dr, he has his 9 month check-up in March at the hospital, they’ll assess him then.  Marvellous, I’m so looking forward to spending the next 8 weeks with a partially deaf boy … whilst thinking about the possibility of having to go through this again.

Last night I spent 2 hours sewing badges onto the 5 year old’s Rainbows t-shirt for tonight.  2 bloody hours.  I don’t do sewing.  My sister sensing that my sewing skills were not up to scratch bought me a sewing kit for Christmas.  I felt I ought to try, and I proudly showed the results to the husband who looked unimpressed. He was thinking he could have done better. He could.

Wednesday -This morning we were all ready about to go out of the door (dressed in the current trend of ’Yeti’) when I got a call saying that school was shut due to the ice.  The 3 year old was devastated and wept uncontrollably.  He wanted to go to school, he loves school.  The 5 year old on the other hand had an air of cool relief about her as she mentally planned how long she would be able to play on her DS today. 

Teacher Friend Mother of 3 rang up and ranted about bloody teachers not going to work because of the ice.  The husband then ranted about writing a bloody long letter to the local council regarding their gritters … or lack of.

So, the husband, who works from home drove me to work over slippy slidy roads whilst attempting handbrake turns.  Please tell me it isn’t just my husband that does this at every opportunity. 

He is once again burdened with the children during work hours.  Just before lunch I had the following message … “The 5 year old is watching TV whilst playing on her DS [note multi-tasking] whilst the 3 year old is playing on CBeebies on the computer. I am having trouble concentrating”

It’s only bloody Wednesday.

… and the 2 hours I spent last night swearing sewing whilst piercing my hands with needles and concentrating far too hard were wasted.  Due to the ice, Rainbows is off.

Chunter f*cking chunter.

I am very excited but there is a hint of mild schitzophrenic panic. I made the grave mistake of watching an episode of ER last week where a child died in hospital. I sat with a lump in my throat until the end and then watched the final of Masterchef which just pushed me over the edge.

Not only will he be able to hear, but, his speech will improve. Whilst his speech is delayed one word answers have now moved on to full sentences. Some things are clearer than others and need no translation, but when his ears are bad the translation can become time consuming and frustrating.

My latest translation triumphs were …

meeyonbiowsiiii? = Can I play on my bike outside?

nitno’ot = It’s snowing, a lot.

itdogysi’onneeee = The little dog is sitting on my knee.

cartsonplee = I would like some carrots please.

thanyoomearv = Thank you for having me.

He’s fairly non plussed about the whole ‘going to hospital’ part, although I’m not sure he understands. We bought a book called ‘tubes in my ears’ from Amazon. Published some time in the 1980′s it seems to focus in on the fact that although the boy can hear when he comes out of surgery he is also violently sick over his mother. The boys father, dressed in a suit, is always in the background looking non interested and talking on a mobile phone the size of a rugby ball. On the plus side the 3 year old has discovered he will ride on a bed with wheels and he will have teeeny weeny tubes in his ears that will help him hear.

Last month he had a week of really good hearing which was hopefully a taste of things to come. His ears must have drained and the only reason we knew was because EVERYTHING WAS TOO LOUD.

The husband had a moment in a public toilet when the 3 year old screamed blue murder on hearing a hand drier, which has now grown into a phobia of hand driers. The mere sight of one and he covers his ears. Also his sisters singing gave him the eeby jeebies, but then she does, at times, sound like Snow White holding a pneumatic drill.

I seem to have the idea that all that waiting around will mean that I can read my book in peace. Who am I kidding. I will be the mother rocking back and forth, looking nervous, weeping and clutching Lulu.

I’m actually looking forward to the bit where he is violently sick all over me. At least it will be over!