The hills are alive.

Meh.
Don't you just hate that, when you just feel like that? Meh.
What? you want more?
*sigh*.
I am struggling though those few days a month where H becomes insufferable. I would eat the family sized Galaxy bar I hid but it's in the front room, where H is and if I were to go in there I can guarantee he would annoy me, with his sitting and stuff.
I am in Sophie's room, where I told him I would be, away from HIM and his breathing and thinking. He does it on purpose. Every month, no matter how lovely I am, no matter how patient and understanding, thoughtful and funny, he is annoying just to see if he can crack me.
He even cooked dinner this evening, like it's his JOB or something. Like I don't cook great food. Yes, I know, you are so with me, how DARE he? Lemon chicken, with vegetables and white rice. It's not like people didn't eat already today, TWICE. Breakfast and lunch and then when he asked what I was thinking for dinner, he didn't even give me a chance to answer, I only managed a loud sigh and a slam of my laptop lid before he said " Isaac and I can make Lemon chicken if you like." Just like that, as if I COULDN'T make Lemon bloody chicken or something.
I tell you, I think there ought to be a wife of great patience award or something. How I manage to keep my wrath down to a bubbling door slamming level, well it is deserving of recognition, that's all I am saying.
Then, when we ate the Lemon chicken that he made so *perfectly* he did the dishes, specifically to make me feel bad and inadequate. Deliberately.
So I am in Sophie's room, with it's PINK things, it's FRILLY things and girly smell. I am watching a movie I know he would hate and I am so showing him that he can be as annoying as he likes but I am on to him. I am stying in here until he goes to bed because I am pretty sure that he would actually talk to me or something if I went back in *there*. ( although Galaxy, damn, life is hard, wonder if he will go up and check the boys now he has put them to bed, if he did, just to show me what a perfect father he is, I could run in and grab it and eat the whole thing without him knowing and THAT WOULD SO SHOW HIM!)
Meh. Be the bigger person ( which I am incidentally, bigger every time I see myself accidentally in any shop window, mirror or shadow. BIG. Gah.)
I took the boys out today, we were going to fly a kite, like sporty and active people do, we were going to but we left it in the car instead. We climbed a hill though, one even bigger than the one we live on and oh what joy I felt at the bottom of that hill as I watched my little fellows RUN and jump.


I have been to this hill many times, Haytor, which means it is a Tor which is BIG.



I have never felt the way I did today, as I followed my children to the top.
I am fat and although I have been fat before, I am now fat and unfit and Oh my heavens that walk hurt.
Those little mountain goat children of mine ran up the hill and then they ran back and stood by me as I stopped to enjoy the beautiful view, half way up is like being in some sort of haven, the absolute silence, if only it were possible to bottle that feeling, that closeness to all things splendid and greater that me.


And gasp some breath back into my screaming lungs.

They ran up again and came back while I stopped to enjoy the heather...


and let my poor, poor calf muscles unknot. I would try really hard to speak properly as I said
" Oh look how beautiful this is"

They got bored of coming back to see me and promised they wouldn't climb the rocks until I caught up.
I almost wept because I HAD to get to the top, I couldn't say " LOOK! Um, something more FUN
at the bottom!" they were at the top and I had to keep.walking.with.my.poor. dying. body.
HOORAY! There I was and oh the glorious, heavenly breeze. The blessed stable rocks to sit on.
"Off you go! I said and then watched as they bounded up the craggy rocks. I lost sight of Isaac for a moment and then I heard him " MUM! I am HERE!"



( where the car was, all that way down there!)


Wild Ponies.

When we walked back down, I had to stop myself laughing because my legs were like Jelly and the relief was so enormous as the car came back into sight.
If I were to walk that once a day I think I would either die or get very fit quite quickly.
Not sure it's worth the risk of putting it to the test. Or is it?

H is going camping tomorrow, with the youth from church, now, don't get my wrong, I love H, I just challenge anyone to spend all day, every day and every evening together and still really like each other, all the time.
I am really looking forward to missing him. When I go away, he enjoys missing me.
I don't envy him the camping thing, who thought that up anyway? I hear people do that stuff for FUN! Sleeping in fields on the hard ground and tramping across grass to have a wee! FUN!
Call me hard to please, picky if you will but if I am leaving home, I like it to be because I am going somewhere even better, BIGGER bed, softer mattress, afore mentioned beds made for me when I leave the room..that's FUN!
I daren't even check the weather forecast because I would cry for him if it is going to rain, as if all that wasn't bad enough, he is going with a load of teenagers. Boys though, so it could be worse and it's only for one night ( he keeps telling me that, just one night, only one night, will be home on wednesday. Not late wednesday) I shall make him a lovely dinner on wednesday to help him recover from the trauma of it all.
I am such a great wife, aren't I?

On not being 47, yet.

Whew, if that wasn't just the thing to stop me being miserable about turning 47!
For years I haven't really given my birthday much thought ( or have I? Might have to check back to last year to see if I was whining about it then) I am in a sort of neither here nor there phase in life, why, it's sort of smack bang in the middle, like a mid life, middle age type thing. Hoorah.
I see that whatever my complaint might be, I can guarantee HORMONES will be mentioned.
Forgetfulness, MENOPAUSE.
Irritability. MENOPAUSE.
Fatigue. MENOPAUSE.
Shut up.
Bloody menopause, I haven't had my perimenopause yet, let me catch up.
I never was one for half a job. let me do it in it's correct and proper order thankyou.
I need to research before I agree to any of it.
Middle aged. Good heavens.
I still have acne, I am a veritable spring chicken.
47 sounds so boring doesn't it? 47. *sigh* can't wait.
Being middle aged has it's pluses, if you look really hard and exaggerate them, should one fall in you lap.
You can say pretty much what you like and no-one cares, because no-one listens to you anyway.
It doesn't matter really what you look like because even if you are drop dead gorgeous...you will be described as 'looking great! (For your age')
Being overweight isn't such a terrible thing because grand children love a squishy gramma, they are the best kind.
47 isn't quite old enough to abandon all hope of getting it together before it's too late. Not quite old enough for polyester slacks and sholley. I still can't quite throw caution to the wind and pop to Asda in my comfy clothes.
I do feel though, that from now on I shall mind if my birthday passes unnoticed.
I want a fuss, of sorts.
Listen family mine, my birthday is first in a terrifying clump of birthdays, forget mine and you might find yours is low key too, there's a warning for you.
Poor Dan, his is last.
We start with mine on Friday 24th, then we have Eli, 26th, Jordan 29th, August comes along and we have H, 9th, Isaac 10th, Seth 22nd and Dan 25th, by the time Dan's birthday is here we are all completely birthday'd out. Which is OK because he hates his birthday, from the littlest boy, when asked he would say " I don't want anything, I want to stay in and be bored" I love that boy.
Where am I going with all this? Oh, yes....I've been sick, poorly, ill. Really.WEIRD ill.
On Sunday, I fell asleep, on the sofa, watching a film with the boys, when I fell asleep I was fine, when I woke up I felt more ill than I can ever remember. My throat was on fire and it hurt right the way down my chest, my chest was so sore, stabbing and it was hard to catch my breath, I didn't get a fever at all, not even a little bit.
My head was painful, my ears hurt, I couldn't walk in a straight line, if I bent over to try and pick anything up off the floor ( which is something I do 7465 times a day) I fell over FLUMP..like that. I had that awful thing where if I moved my head....my brain didn't catch up for a few seconds and then it smashed into my skull at a billion miles an hour.
Every part of me hurt. I slept all of monday, woke up at 7am, went back to sleep at 8, woke up at 11, back to sleep at noon.....was awake for 4 hours in the evening and slept most of last night.
Today I have been tired and sore but much better. My head feels too heavy for my neck and the breathing was hard, I just couldn't seem to get the breath into my lungs, until 6 o'clock when like some magical flick of a switch it was better, can breathe in and out as I please, without thinking about it. Amazing how you can take that for granted until it doesn't happen to order.
If I had had even a remotely increased temperature I would have thought it was swine flu.
Whatever it was I am SO glad it's on the way out and 47 doesn't seem nearly as bleak a prospect as it did last week.
The alternative doesn't look like fun at all.
P.S. I bought a plane ticket this week. To Boston. For me.

This and that.

So, thursday. That's it really, just thursday which isn't bad as it happens and my thursday was a pretty good one, I have felt better each day this week, which is an enormous relief, you all know I had my funeral planned and was bracing myself for being brave and an example to all as I battled against all manner of terrible illness and imagined horrors.
Whatever that was, or is, or might be, well that was or or definitely was just awful and what the hell WAS IT / IS IT COULD IT BE?
My tummy or abdomen, to be precise, is still very tender, I am still very weary ...although I am going to tell you that I stayed awake and almost moving, in a useful kind of way, for 6 hours in a row today, a record I say. I shall have the ultrasound on tuesday and go from there. I am not overly excited about the 'inside' ultrasound, with that intimidating 'wand' but I do know that it is more exact and will show more than the one on the outside, especially on me, with my padding and layers of blubber.
I have though long and hard about being so overweight, being so hopeless again and probably gaining back everything I may have lost, again, and it's times like this that I really get mad at myself because it's not just what it looks like. Being so overweight makes being examined so much more difficult, how is a doctor supposed to feel anything through all that fat? I realise just how stupid it is to be this weight, just how badly I am treating myself and yet, still, it's so hard.If I need surgery of any kind I am sure to have complications with healing because there is way too much fat to cut through, too much to expect a speedy recovery and how hard for the poor surgeon that would have to perform the operation.
Thankfully the pain has lessened and I can walk without weeping again. I am baffled by the contraction like cramps and am interested to see what that is all about and the enormous feeling of weight inside as though I have a substantial lead weight just clanging about in there is bizarre but I am so grateful that the pain has all but gone.
The exhaustion is annoying, I am so glad to have H and be able to just go to bed when I need to. The house needs some serious loving, it is sort of tidy-ish, it is not sparkling and shiny. The laundry is more or less done but it's all right there in the kitchen, in baskets, in varying stages of readiness. Not ironed but folded, ironed but not put away, waiting to be sorted, who knows what THAT pile is? Sophie has a magical talent, it would seem that there is some kind of alarm next to the washing machine, when I have managed to clear the mountain and breathe a gentle sigh of relief, the puff of relief sends a signal to Sophie's room and all her stinking clothes come creeping out while have my back turned and throw themselves in a festering heap in front of the machine, never IN the machine, that is sitting empty, with door open, detergent to the right and instructions on the front. Just there, in a heap just big enough to prevent the door being closed so that as soon as I walk into the kitchen THERE IT ALL IS!
I have a choice, I can be a good mother and I can talk to Sophie and explain how she is TWENTY YEARS OLD ...wash your damned clothes for heavens sake! Or I can just wash it.
I always just wash it because it is SO painful when she does it, how is it hard to do laundry? I don't get it, I love laundry, it is satisfying and constructive, so simple, it's not like we have to stand at a wooden barrel and bash it about having boiled copper pans of water over a meager fire is it? open the door, shove it in, add detergent and softener, shut the door, turn the dial and WALK AWAY! Not when Sophie does it, somehow everything I have washed already gets dumped somewhere else, she puts a pathetic few items in the huge capacity front loader, heaven forbid she ever put any of OUR washing in with hers, when it's time to dry her clothes, if I haven't come along and rescued the chaos already, she will pull out any clothes from the drier and just dump that somewhere in the middle of the kitchen. I never ever dump clothes, I fold as they come out of the drier because when you drag it out and dump it it gets even more creased and that's MORE WORK and I am very particular about my laundry ( and other things that sometimes I realise and think I should blog about, for instance I love my bed to be made, properly and I will never, not EVER get into a bed that isn't tightly tucked in and smooth, not even if I wake up in the middle of the night for a wee, before I get back into bed I straighten it, tuck it in, smooth my pillows and sometimes even fluff them up and turn them over and H sleeps through all that, if HE did that when I was sleeping.....I wouldn't like him very much, I just cannot get into a rumpled bed. I think of how blessed I am that I am able to cling to that eccentricity. Can you imagine me camping? No nor can I. Shudder.)
I also always delete all my emails or save them but I never leave emails in my inbox because that is so UNTIDY.
I am sitting here with toys all over the floor though because if that isn't just a thankless task these days, the boys are really playing well lately, real games with their animals and a new found love of micro machines ( which delights me, I love to see little boys playing with cars, love it) Isaac found a great Micro machine tanker at a car boot sale and all 3 fell in love with it, it's about 2ft long and when you open it up it transforms into roads and buildings, tiny weeny ( micro even!) cars are inside. I found 3 more on Ebay for £1 each and when I went to collect them the lady told me that these particular ones belong to her autistic son, who is 25! She said he has loved them since he was a little boy and has only just decided that he is too old for them and now he wants to be a D.J. so he said she could sell them...so the ones we have are original and so solid, not flimsy plastic, but tough and robust. I also have one to collect from freecycle. I love to watch all 3 boys play together because there has rarely ever been anything that all 3 enjoy doing. Perhaps that's why I can sit here and not feel anxious at the sight of those tiny vehicles spread out in a haphazard but deliberate way.
I have been aware of just how quickly the boys are growing up, I never tire of sharing my bath with polar bears and prehistoric water creatures, sharks and killer whales.
I remember once, when Dan, Jordan and Sophie were very little, a lovely man asked to use the bathroom and when he came back down he was weeping, I asked him whatever was the matter and he said " I would give everything I own, every foreign holiday, my beautiful house, my flash car, my wallet that is never empty to see toys in my bathroom, when will it ever be my turn?"
Since that day ( and 20 years on he still has no children and somehow I imagine not having grandchildren as all his friends do, is even sadder somehow, it's not something you can ask is it really? ) I have never minded toys in the bathroom, Seth has started to bathe himself now, he doesn't jump in with the other two and I have encouraged him to wash his own hair and take care of his personal cleanliness. How quickly all these things stop, all the things that we think will drive us insane forever, don't. They really don't.
I am more and more aware of just how incredible it is to have been given this second chance at motherhood. I cannot imagine not doing this all over again. I am so relieved that I am finding it easier to let go of all the worry of it all, it's still there and if I were to let it would still be overwhelming but I don't allow myself t o dwell on what could happen or what would be 'awful if ' because right here and right now it is as it is, and it's good.
Hooray and thanks be, for that.

The head's so willing...

My head feels rather good lately, all filled with ideas of how I can make life splendid and new things I want to do in my quest for improving and lightening my life.
I want to cook again, real food, new food, exciting and healthy food....but when I stand up for more than 8 minutes I cry and crumple in a sorry heap, so we have a sandwich, if we make it ourselves. I did make a cottage pie this morning, I fooled myself and made it while I was newly up and not crawlingly tired..ha! Foiled you knackermaking whateveritis you.
When I reheated it at 6 o'clock I was so weary I could hardly stand it, how lovely to be able to eat a real meal though, first time in 2 weeks or more I think.
I have such grandiose ideas for the boys' room, I want to do this and that and some of the other and then I climb the stairs and see all the toys and socks and unputaway clothes and I take 12 steps further down the hallway and lie on my bed for a while, or 3 hours.
H and I want to take the boys somewhere exciting, a real holiday where we shall explore and discover and have fun, we also want to take them to London to see the sights and the Lion King and then I think of having to go into town, that whole 1/4 mile and then go to the travel agents and talk and .....oh am so weary, maybe tomorrow, or next week or in 2013.
I called to make the emergency appointment for the ultra sound and hoorah! May 26th it is then.
4 weeks......I have rarely, if ever complained about the NHS but that is ridiculous isn't it? I will go back to my G.P tomorrow and tell her and she will call and maybe get me in sooner, I can but hope anyway. Also I can call and see if there are any cancellations, every morning....*sigh*.
It is quite the most bizarre thing to have braxton hicks contractions, without being pregnant ( and I am most definitely and certainly NOT pregnant)
It's raining this week which is a little bit lovely for me, when the sun shines I simply cannot lie in bed, I lay there and think of all the things I could be doing and how much time I am wasting on such a beautiful day, so when it's raining and grey...ahhhh, back to bed when the boys go to school.
Next week the forecast says hot and sunny all week, I love sunshine.....by next week I shall be over whatever the hell is going on and shall bask in every sunny second of it.
This week, my mind is willing but my body is revolting, won't do a damned thing I ask of it.

Does that hurt?

Yes it does, the next question is how much?
I don't feel pain quite the way most people do, I feel something that hurts and I know I don't like it but usually it doesn't stop me doing anything I need to do. Until now.
Whatever this is hurts. A lot, real proper hurting of the kind that makes me hunch over and yelp..or just fall asleep, for hours, without any problem at all.
Stomach hurt? Sleep for 3 hours, wake up, ouch still hurting? Sleep another 2 hours.
I have seen my doctor and have had blood tests and what not, I went back again yesterday because I can't pretend anymore that it isn't hurting so much I can't stand it. Everything hurts, breathing, coughing, blowing my nose, walking, standing, sitting down, laughing, not laughing.....hurts. Sleeping doesn't hurt and I am doing more of that than I have ever done in my life.
On thursday, I got up, went shopping for an hour, slept for 3 hours, picked the boys up from school slept for 2 hours, went to buy the bread and oranges I forgot in the morning, had to stand leaning on the trolley for 20 minutes to get the strength to get back to the car, sat in the car for 15 minutes to get the energy to drive home, went home, and slept again.
Yesterday I told Eli his friend could come and play after school and so I had to stay awake and make sure he didn't kill himself at my house ( and really, why are other peoples' kids so what's the word, different and a bit worldly and not sweet and touching. Also, is it only me that feels enormous sadness my a 6 year old who has absolutely NO idea how to play with toys and dinosaurs and you know, other kids because "well, really I only play with my nintendo DS"? Heartbreaking.
I took him home at 6 and then, well I went to bed and slept until 8.30 and didn't have a jot of trouble going back to sleep at midnight. This is not right is it?
My doctor told me yesterday that she wants me to have an ultrasound very quickly, the fact that my always fat belly is bloated beyond all reason, the endless urgent need to pee, the crippling back ache and dragging pain up there and down here....does not a well me make.
She said that I have to call on monday and set up an appointment and if they tell me they can't make it an urgent appointment to call her and she will make it an urgent one, she also said that if the pain is unbearable I have to go straight to the A and E department at the hospital.
That's where the dilemma begins, I have babies without pain relief, I had major surgery twice and took nothing more than paracetamol afterwards. I'm not sure what level of pain is bad enough to warrant a hospital trip.
I know that the pain I am feeling is telling me that something is amiss and to me it is miserable, I am at the stage where I cannot think of anything else, as I do what needs to be done I am doing nothing but imagining how great it will be when I can stop doing it and sleep.
Last night, around 10pm I knew that I had to get to the hospital...except I couldn't get to the hospital without calling an ambulance and I draw the line at that. I wasn't screaming or writhing in pain...because I have only ever done that as Seth's huge head was about to burst out of my ageing hoo-hah and also once or twice before the morphine kicked in when my gallbladder was a throbbing and infected lump inside me right before they removed it.
I didn't go and just as well because today I am feeling better, better enough that I can move and I have eaten a ham sandwich without the fear that it will have to come out again at some point and dear heaven, if that won't just about finish me off.
I still have the most dreadful soreness and don't come near me in case you actually touch me and then I will weep level of discomfort. It feels like it is just having a break before it comes back and comes back REALLY HARD!
My lovely doctor told me yesterday that I first went to her with this pain in January...which floored me, I was thinking that it started about 3 weeks ago. She told me I should have come back much sooner but I always do like to see if something will just go away, I am pretty sure that whatever this is, is not going away on it's own.
Why am I even writing this? Because I always like to look back and read and remember once it is all over. And I really want this to be over.
I did google a few of my symptoms but of course only learned that I have a dreadful disease and am not in for any laughs anytime soon so raspberries to google and big old high fives for pain medicines that work and are lovely and all mine.

Is there such a thing as TMI on a blog?

Personally, I don't think so, the more gory, detailed and personal, the better as far as I am concerned, I love to read a tale of humiliation and personal mortification.
The blogger in me is so strong that very often, when faced with a situation that many would want to ensure would stay secret for eternity, my first thought is pretty much always ! Heh! That'll be such a great thing to write about.
And so today.
I had to go to the doctor, the backache and belly ache, peeing and not peeing and constipation and not, it was all too much and has been going on for too long ( 4-5 weeks now) Everything pretty much hurts in my mid section and when pain makes the whole family miserable and I find myself throwing bottles of water across the room for no apparent reason other than I FEEL LIKE IT SO SHUT UP! It may be time to see someone.
Also, where is my insomnia? That tool that helped me get so much done? It's gone, darn it and I miss it. I now fall asleep at midnight, wake up at 6-7 and then, when the boys go to school at 8.30 I go back to bed and usually do not wake up until 11 at the earliest. This was a treat for about a week but now it's ridiculous, my life is passing by while I sleep, I get next to nothing done and I am still tired. All. The. Time. That's not right is it?
So, I went to see my lovely doctor. She is so gentle and kind to me, never makes me feel like an idiot and I am rarely embarrassed when I am speaking to her.
So, with all my details of where the pain is, what is working, what isn't working, etc etc of course she wanted me to 'hop up on the couch'. Ugh.
I've had 6 babies, 2 miscarriages, innumerable smears, checks, internals, poking and prodding, I don't get embarrassed anymore. Funnily enough, not even when I drop my drawers and go to 'hop up' on the couch and realise that I am standing right in front of the window, the net free, blind free window that looks right out onto the street and the florists and hairdressers over the road. I just laughed because, well TOO LATE! To worry and what are the chances of anyone having looked up right as I dropped my knickers? If they did, I won't ever know about it ( I hope!)
So, it would seem that my pelvic floor is perhaps not made of iron as I so often brag but perhaps a saggy rubber. I have me a prolapse that can only be rectified with surgery, although it is not a severe one and is not by any means hanging out ( oh my!) Losing weight will stop it getting worse and having babies, so many and so close together is what caused it, along with getting OLD! Not only my face is sagging darn it all. I still don't pee when I laugh or cough though ( unless Cathy or Jenn is in the room and then all bets are off, they could make a mannequin piddle.)
Funny how we never really believe that all that ageing stuff will happen to us.
I really didn't think it would hit me and I am still nowhere near ready for it but here it is, it's getting me. I can only pray for grace as it overtakes me, or a glorious disregard for all things elderly and be disgraceful with pride. ( Which sounds more like fun to me)

I had the most unsettling dream last night, my dad was here and he was hurrying me along, standing in the doorway telling me to "hurry up, come ON, will you come ON?!" I was stuck and couldn't follow him, I was trying to follow him but all I could say was " I can't find my SHOES!" and he left. I woke up with a migraine fit to explode my poor head. It shook me for a while.

So now I wait to see if I still have that UTI hanging about and hope that I will soon feel better. Although Doctor appointments can be pretty great blog fodder.

I blame testosterone.

I am loathe to admit it but I am so over all this boy stuff lately. As the boys grow the testosterone levels are soaring and good grief it's annoying. Seems when 2 of them area round it's manageable, when that third one walks into the mix, no matter which one it is, all hell breaks loose.

Why in the name of pleasantness can they just not get along?

Why, if their absolute favourite show is on can they just not sit and watch it? Why do they have to jump on each others' heads / legs/ backs ? Oh how I miss the days of High school musical, of watching Eli dance and sing and mince about like a fairy on crack.

Who'd have thought that Ben 10 and power rangers could bring such violence and NOISE to my life, untuneful noise, with no twirling?

The constant 'YARGH! Ooof! TAKE THAT!" Makes me crazy, at 7.30am.....we maybe shouldn't even discuss that.

The need to be biggest, best, loudest, fastest is so huge it's scary, the outrage if someone appears to be beating them at anything " NO!!! I got dressed first I did, not YOU" is ridiculous.

It seems they are incapable of sitting still or walking in a straight line, everything is done with leg kicks and arm chops, headstands are a must when watching TV, apparantly.

The problem with having boys so close in age is that as soon as one outgrows a hideous phase, the next one hits it, no break, no chance to take a breath and gird ourselves for the next bout.

These 3 are so different to the last batch of kids I made. The first batch was evenly spaced, one nice boy...2 years, another nice boy, 2 years a girl. That worked out rather nicely for me.

The 2 boys got along for the most part, the girl was a whole new thing, a change is as good as a rest they say.

This time, nice boy, 11 months, nice boy, 2 years nice boy. Wouldn't you think that would be alright? Oh but it's not. Now they are all here, in a big old lump it is anything but alright. Far too much time is spent seperating them,warning them, dargging them away from mortal danger as they all try to exercise the need to be the BEST, the BRAVEST, the LOUDEST.

I miss the acre of land we had at the barn, I miss the 14ft trampoline at the horrible house, I miss them going to bed at 6pm!

They are like caged animals in this house, there is nowhere for them to go and release all this energy they have......there is only so much drawing and colouring a group of bouncy boys can do in a day. As they get more boyish, I find myself needing more girlie. Power Rangers = the need for a new pillow. Bouts of kung fu like leaping = the longing for a pretty smell or a nice plant.

If this carries on my home will be one filled to the brim with Laura Ashley and floral prints.

I shall have candles and swirly things on every available surface.

I always sent prayers of thanks for having a ratio of 5 boys to one girl, that was before I saw what fun a girl can be....now I am a little sad that I am so outnumbered by these willy wielding gitlets. I sort of long for someone who wants to shop with me, who claps hands at a new ribbon or gets giddy at the Barbie commercials.

I can only see it getting worse the older they get, they are all such BOYISH boys too ( what? Who was worried by Eli and his penchant for fluffy and pink? WHo? Me? No, I think you are mistaken!)

I have never been a frilly sort of girl, I don't swoon over scarves or boots or high heels. Make up is a light covering of whatever is needed to improve the look of the day, I hate lipstick, I get my hair cut twice a year if I remember. Manicures are a mystery to me. The only dress I remember ever buying was my wedding dress, I don't do frocks willingly.

As I age though, as I am overpowered by the masculine family I bore, I am feeling a need to make myself heard! I want them to notice that I am a woman....that there is someone here who doesn't get the whole punching, kicking, karate chopping, yelling thing.

It's almost worth crying just to see the array of stunned and WTH? expressions a family of boys/men can show at such a terrifying spectacle, just a glimse of those startled faces is enough ( usually) to drag me out of the dolldrums because they are just all so clueless!

Oh, you know what? It's time to show some pictures....some before pictures and some now pictures. I hate having my picture taken, in June when I went to Boston I had so many pictures taken I was amazed that I didn't scurry away and find a rock to hide under. I am so glad that they were taken though, because now I can compare the ones that Sophie took today, right as I swiped a sweet from Seth and stuffed it in my mouth before he could rescue it!
So...June......


and this morning




And June...

( with splendid Sara, who always looks so beautiful!)

and today....


stuffing a foamy banana and doing the typical and oft seen move of a fat person, dragging the shirt away from any lumps and bumps!!

I am so thrilled to see a change! I know I can keep going, I shall keep taking pictures every couple of months so that I can see that this is working....oh please let it keep working!!

Well for heavens sake.....maybe I AM better!

I had a review ( again) for my health benefits today. I was annoyed when the letter came because I am so tired of having to explain myself, so instead of getting worked up, I just resigned myself to going, saying what came into my head at the time and leaving.
I got there ( and yes, I got lost again!) waited, 45 minutes after my appointment time, who should call me in but the very same gray haired, bow tied old git that I had last time. My heart sank a bit and then, again, I told myself that sweating it was a waste of time, I was relaxed and able to see things how they really were. I was being interviewed by the head of the ' pull yourself together brigade' to even try and explain myself would have been to degrade myself, he said things like " So, hmmm, urticaria, do you have an epi pen? Have you been hospitalised? So it's not an ALLERGY that makes your skin this bad.....it's all in your head?"
"Then, your husband cleans because he wants to, not because you CAN'T?"
"So, then, when you say you can't go out when your skin is bad because you are embarrassed to be seen with welts all over your face, what you are saying is, physically you COULD go out but again, you say you 'can't' because, well it's all in your head again isn't it?"
" I know it would be difficult for you to work because of your children but would you like a job?"
And do you know what the devil made me do?
I looked him in the face and said " No!"
His face was a picture, I was supposed to say how I would love a job but am so miserable I can't leave the house..... he asked why I wouldn't like a job and I said " because I am a control freak and if I had to go to work 8 hours a day I wouldn't know what was happening at home would I?"
He asked me if get angry and I said " no, can't be bothered, doesn't get me anywhere, doesn't solve anything"
Do you go shopping? " yes, hate standing in lines though because I don't want to be talking to people, I don't like talking to people"
"well, that's just because you don't like lining up, who does?"
I gave up and believe it or not, I found the whole thing funny. They will stop that extra money again and I am past caring, I think that maybe I AM better, I can't be bothered fighting and proving to anyone anymore that I am depressed, because actually, I think I'm NOT anymore.
I can't think of a single job I would be good at, I can't think of anyone that would be interested in employing a woman who has been a stay at home parent for 23 years but I simply am not going to spend another moment trying to convince people I am a lost cause. Maybe I'm not, perhaps I should bite the bullet and get a job, somewhere somehow and try something new. Take my scaly itchy skin and meet the public, could be fun! If anyone balks at being served by a welty old itch bag, I should perhaps just smile and tell them not to worry, it's all in my head and not a bit contagious!
H and I whistled with laughter all the way home because it was so awful it was funny. He was so obviously one of those people who think anything 'mental' is hogwash and nonsense and maybe it is, the best thing? I couldn't care less what he thinks or what he writes in his report.
Hey, maybe I am better!

And now, for something completely different!

Things are not going well. Elijah has had some kind of weird stomach thing for a full week, perfectly well and cheerful he has had diarrhea the likes of which has had me heaving and gagging, he is completely cheerful, wants to eat and yet...over and over again, farty bum " Eli! Did you poop again? " he does this little jump / surprised look and then says " Hmmm I fink yes I did!" and off we go again. We have bleached, disinfected, anti-bac'd, starved , hydrated and he has skipped and sung and pooped his way through the week.
Last night, Isaac woke up and was all unnecessary, upstairs downstairs, all over the place, H came down here Isaac came in with me and he whined and fidgeted all night until this morning when he let us know what the whining was about....yes more poppy boxers and surprised looks ( well how on earth did THAT happen? Heh heh!) They really think it is hysterical, none of them ( and yes Seth joined in!) are at all miserable, they have been playing, running, jumping and all the while ( pardon my language) shitting through the eye of a needle.
We have had little piles of clean boxer shorts outside the lavatory and they have been running downstairs yelling "Ha! I did it again, the dirty ones are in the basket!" This has to be the most revolting game I have ever witnessed, I am thrilled that they aren't ill as such but good heavens!
Toast and Coca Cola, all day that's it. ( Coke is magical for the runs, and it did work, by lunch time, not that anyone actually ate lunch) the stream ( eww) had run dry and they were safe to stay downstairs. Seth has been up and down those stairs all day long, keeping a tally of how many false alarms he has had. I am so grateful that they are old enough ( apart from Elijah) to just do what needs doing, we have followed behind saying " WASH...use this gel....." and then running to spray and wipe.
We have a strict no farting rule which Eli cannot keep too and so he has been the winner of the clean boxers part of the game. If you get gas, do it on the toilet because this is not fun you guys!
I had to escape just for some fresh air, this house has a cloud of green toxic fumes hovering over it, thank goodness for good weather and open windows.
They were all pretty much exhausted by 8pm, they watched the Lakers /Celtics game and were asleep in minutes.
8.30 there was a loud and piercing scream and then as I reached the bedroom, more puke than I have ever seen, especially from someone so small who has hardly eaten a thing all week. Poor Eli, poor bed and poor my iPod, yes, hoorah for ugly plastic iPod skins with High school musical pictures, that thing saved my iPod from certain puke death.
We stripped the bed and threw the whole lot in a black sack and in the dustbin, life is to short for sorting all that kind of stuff out....ack I shall buy new duvet and sheets tomorrow, that one was in its last legs anyway, luckily the beloved animal blanket had fallen on the floor and escaped the horror.
I put Eli under the shower which always makes him cry, he hates that, wrapped him in a towel while we remade the bed daddy had scrubbed and cleaned and he jumped right in, snuggled down and said " Ahhh, I don't fink I will puke again, night night"
H has gone to bed and said he will be shoving his ear plugs in as far as they will go because he can't bear to hear anymore noises tonight!
I am so glad they are happy but it s the weirdest thing ever!
I have banned Mel and Jordan from the house and I met them outside today in town, I cannot bear the thought that I might miss the baby's birth and even worse have to stay way from him when he IS here.
I can't tell if I feel ill or not, queasy but honestly the day I have had who wouldn't feel ill? So much stink in one day! SO much laundry and cleaning, smells of all kinds and then the disinfectant smell on top....ewwwww and ack.
If I do get sick ( although I have to say I absolutely don't believe in being sick, it is against my core beliefs, so I think I will be fine) I will stay away from Mel and Jordan completely and I think my heart will break a big bit. I have so enjoyed this time getting to know Mel, I love the fact that I love her so and that she rather likes me. Mel's mum is flying in on monday, if that little stinker hasn't been born before then, Mel is being induced on monday. I have a terrible feeling that I am going to miss him being born, between this bug and Mel's mum being here....Mel says it won't matter that the more the merrier but it will matter.
I want them to enjoy the birth of their baby, I won't turn it into a 3 ring circus and I don't know Mel's mum well enough to be able to relax when she is around, she is entitled to be right by her daughters side if that is what Mel wants and so if she is here before the baby is born I will step back and wait until she has flown back to Turkey before I muscle in and love on that baby.
If this bug keeps wreaking havoc it won't be a choice anyway. It's all a bit cruel isn't it? Right now, this whole puke thing?
Mel and Jordan have completely accepted that this baby doesn't seem to know how to get out on his own, she says she is only uncomfortable when she has contractions and that she has accepted that he will be here on monday, with help. It is a relief to see her happy again, she will have her mum close by for a week and any girl wants that at a time like this, just 2 days to wait and then he will be here, or on his way for sure! Please let that stomach flu be a 24 hour one, I have no idea why Eli has had this for so long, he has been a stinker for sneaking food whenever we aren't looking so hopefully the other boys will be better by the morning, I am afraid to go to bed for fear of being woken up by nightmarish scenes of mass pukedom. I might have me an all night vigil, at least until H wakes up which is usually around 3am.
I am more than a little fed up by the timing of all this and just hope that the morning brings miraculous healing of all things stomach related.
This has been an incredibly emotional week, all without even seeing that little person arrive, who knows what it will feel like when he is here. I have been a weepy old thing all week.
I am weepy with relief about Sophie and her job, scared that having money will take her back down the scary road, excited about the baby, disappointed that he isn't here, excited, disappointed, excited about Boston, scared about Boston, thrilled that even in my wildest dreams I wouldn't have imagined things falling together in such a way for this trip, I think that I am really meant to go and have the time of my life, I am so thankful to all the people that have made it happen for me ( oooh is this a speech?? Where's the podium?)
I feel something so huge is happening and of course it is, so much going on all at once. Almost too much to take in at one time. Lucky me. I just can't wait for this baby.

Who nose?

I am going to reveal things in this post that I never imagined I would tell a soul, here goes.
There are many advantages to getting older, I am more comfy in my skin ( perhaps because it is so much looser than it used to be) I care not about having to dye my greying hair. I don't worry too much about wrinkles, wearing elasticated waists is my right, I have earned that right by living 45 years and having 6 children.
When I was 30 and Daniel ran headfirst into me and laughed saying " Haha! That was as good as a bouncy castle!!" I was a little sad, now? Being squishy and comfy for little people is what it's all about.
I grunt when I bend over, I huff when I get up, I look at shoes and my first thought is "oooh, they look comfy" and I don't care. Marvellous.
I cannot though, no matter what, come to terms with the hair situation. Thin hair where I want it to be thick and lustrous, tick and course where I want it not to be at all, ever. What is happening to me? Sweet tweezers, I could spend all day plucking hairs and would never be done with it. Waxing doesn't work ( except I didn't try a professional waxing because that would mean walking into a beauty salon and saying " Hello, could you rip my beard out please?" and I'm not ready for that. ) Anyway, I have discovered that if I use a high beam LED torch and sit with tweezers, I see hairs that in the normal light of day I can't see.....I sit and shine that light and every time I GASP! WTH????? I do this very often, almost obsessively because I don't want a beard on my double chin. This evening, after my bath I sat on the edge of the bed and began the process ( Hell's teeth where the hell did THAT one come from? ARGH! Look that one is at least a foot long, how did I not see that yesterday?? Etc. Etc.)
So, pluck, exclaim, mumble, weep, pluck....and then, who knows why, perhaps I wasn't depressed enough, I wondered if I have extra hairy nostrils ( is this personal enough yet? TMI? Well, there you go, don't say you weren't warned) I do have sort of hairy nostrils but the hair is well enough contained and I have a bit of a cold so there is no way I am plucking nostril hair.....but hang on....WHAT?? What in the world? I have the most enormous fleshy sort of swelling up my left nostril. I promise you I wan't being completely revolting and trying to see if I have brains up my nose or anything, just a flash of light up there to see if I have a forest of ugly black hair that I should do something about, this swelling is HUGE..and really fleshy and tumoury looking.
There, I said it. Tumour.
I don't think I am a hypochonriac as a rule, unless googling Lupus and knowing I have it, when all I have is a massive case of in the headitis.
So, you know I googled ' nasal cancer' and tumours up nostril, pictures. Hmmm, no picture but SIGNS AND SYMPTOMS! Blocked nose I HAVE THAT! OH NO CAN'T BREATH OUT OF MY LEFT NOSTRIL! May have watering eyes YES! YES that one time when I fell asleep on the sofa, when I woke up my eyes were REALLY watering!
I must say, here and now that laughing at my predicament is not kind.
I am on the threshold of exciting things, LONDON with my H and NO KIDS!
NEW YORK with girls and no kids OR husbands and much laughing and ......can I still travel if I have to have half my head taken off to rid myself of the tumour? I wonder if I might get a nicer nose if they have to remove this fat old thing I've had so long.
Then I sit and tell myself how stupid all this is and STOP! Ridiculous....but....you know, this is what happens, people just tell their doctor they have this little thing and WHAM!
Have you got swellings up your nose? When you get a cold does your nasal passage get all red and fleshy looking? Have ANY of you ever shone a bright light up your nose and seen a huge fleshy lumpy thing that look SO wrong?
Until I saw that lump it didn't hurt ( but now? OUCH, is so sore and I can feel it and it maybe growing as I type!) My nose is running yet blocked ( but have a cold, with sneezing and more sneezing)
I am going to have to stop googling health things, stick with 'Where to stay in New York!' and 'Where to eat in New York' and 'vacation rentals in NEW YORK!' actually, while I'm here, my tracker tells me that quite a few people read from the New York area, when you've finished shining flashlights up your nostrils, would you mind telling my friends and I if you know a great place to stay, there will be quite a few of us, could be 7, maybe 12...could be even more. We need somewhere we can afford, where we can all stay and mingle, meet up and laugh, easy access to all places fun. Any tips would be wonderful, it looks like the trip is going to at the end of June rather than July.
The trip has had a marvellous effect on me, in that I have managed to stop eating junk, I would love to lose a chin and some flabby belly before I fly to the big apple so I am trying to eat some small ones, in place of CAKE and BREAD and FAT! It feels pretty good but to may shame I am always so horrified by how often I catch myself going to snack and graze, stuff and munch.
I also get cross with myself when I realise just how much I adore good food, for lunch I had the juiciest tuna steak, heavenly.....why do I not do this always? Tsk Tsk.
This is the time, everyone in bed, peace and quiet, good telly, this is when I do my worst eating ( the very worst time to do it!) crisps, cereal, toast, cookies, whatever I can get my pudgy hands on, I'll eat it.
Tonight I had oatmeal with my medicine, not a bit hungry, I'm told it takes 3 weeks to get into a good habit, that seems a long time doesn't it? At least with the 2 trips looming I have something to aim for.
The boys are back at school tomorrow, it has been a very long weekend, so cold that none of us could bear to go out for any length of time but they have been so cooped up and although we had many crafty things to do, they got bored with them and had to do the jumping and shouting and fighting.....this afternoon we did have a blissful moment or 3 where they had piles of books and actually read them with great joy and shared stories ( or facts because we read encyclopedias in this house of Aspergers and fact finders!)






( phew, much ado was made about how Mels baby is like that 30 weeker....yet no mention was made of how it got in there, maybe he already read up on it!







They aren't bad little gits really but they are very loud. They are also horribly messy, they shed muck, where Eli is, there mess is also. Where Seth is there will be stink. They're cute though, aren't they?
Hey, just had a thought, wonder if that encyclopedia has anything on tumours up the nose?

Reasons to be cheerful, part 1.

Today, I woke up and didn't mind. What an enormous leap into the real world of living again.
I am astounded that this whole while, living in such a deep and overwhelming sadness, I had no idea. I suppose it goes to show that I don't know everything, which is bizarre because, well.....I was so sure I did know everything, the least you could expect me to know is how I am feeling. Not so. I have been aware that I was unhappy, damn this and bloody that and for heavens sake stupid houses and smells and landlady and cars and everything. I had no idea that I have been as depressed as all that.
I am incredibly judgemental of depressed people, am one to think ( though never say outloud)
" pull yourself together!" I don't mean that in a way that implies depressed people should just cheer up because that isn't possible, if you're sad, you're sad, a chemical imbalance will throw the whole world out of sinc and you have to get help to get well. What I mean is, that because in all my years of depression and as much as I hate to admit it, I am chronically depressed, in the years and years of being swallowed whole by that blanket of hopelessness, I have never succumbed to the sit and stare deal, no sitting in a corner with greasy hair and blank expressions for me, oh no....we must appear to be normal and coping. People must be fed and houses must be cleaned, we must be dressed and washed, ironed and perfectly turned out ( will I ever get over that Dr calling me 'unkempt? No, I think not)
We must keep going and get on, stiff upper lip and all that is great and British.
Until this time.
This time I couldn't even tell myself to pull it together. I couldn't see what was happening, I saw the physical ailments and clung to them, knew that this is it...a REAL illness, look at poor me, you can SEE I am sick and ill and .....wow that illness made me so tired, so tired.
Cook? Nope, not for months. Frozen everything, let me open a packet and throw it in and put it on plates and pretend.
Clean? Ack, pick that up and put it back down there, hmmmm, what should I do with that mess? Walk away from it. Leave it for later, tomorrow, next week, someone else, never.
Shop? Well yes because it has to be done but walking up and down aisles and seeing what we need but, oh ...I can't pick it up, or carry it or buy it because then I will have to put it away and cook it and oh! look! PIZZA in a BOX....frozen vegetables, ready made mashed potatoes, tinned soup, get it.
Sleep? Oh yes. In the day better than at night. Then I would wake up and a half a day has gone, which would make me cry because this is my life and where is it going ?
My little boys? I adore them and at times I have glimpsed through the fog the joy that they bring, mostly though the noise, every noise has been so jarring, so painful and insulting, I longed to escape the noise and the mess that just keeps coming with these boys.

Today I woke up and ...... I didn't mind and the noise didn't hurt, I didn't have to talk myself down the stairs and reassure myself that in just one hour the boys would be in school and then I could sleep again and turn off again.
I spoke to the boys without thinking about it, without being so careful to say the right things, without having to shut my stupid mouth because the wrong things were coming out and the misery was showing.
I didn't feel anger, at all, not once.
I saw H take Seth and Isaac to school and Eli and I went to the doctors, he had an ear ache and needed to get that checked, we went and bought a magazine and a comic and we chatted. I enjoyed being with him, for real, not pretend.
When he went to school I went shopping and I bought real food, aubergines, onions, minced beef, red peppers.
I came home and went to the kitchen, I turned on some great music ( Bread ) and as I cooked I sang along.
While I sang and cooked, H came out and said
" Hey, who's that out here singing? Is that you? You didn't go and get all cheerful on me now did ya?"
Nearly a year this man has lived with me as an unrecognisable fruit loop, without the fruit and not much of a loop. Just a grey blob. Not a word, not once has he said a thing out of line, never tutted or sighed, I think if I try hard I can remember once when he said "NO" a bit sharply when I suggested Pizza for dinner ( again) so he got whatever he did want because sod you then......get it yourself.
He has quietly just done what I didn't. He has filled the gaps with the boys, he has turned back the covers on the bed so that I know that getting back in is OK.
He has crossed the t's and dotted the i's. He has shopped, cleaned, cleared, fetched and carried and the only reward he looks for is that I get better. I saw this man's face change when he saw me cooking and heard me singing.
He is everything I would never dreamed of looking for.
I went out with my sister today, for lunch. We drove out to the moors and ate in a beautiful country pub, olde worlde with its roaring fires and beamed ceilings, old uneven walls and shiny. polished old tables.
It had writing on the walls
" In this spot in 1777, absolutely nothing happened."
It's the small things that amuse me so.
I actually saw the beauty of where we went instead of having to concentrate on not crying, or keeping breathing. Most people hyperventilate when they panic. I stop breathing, even when I don't feel like I am panicking. I hold my breath and have to actually tell myself to breathe, it won't hurt, must breathe and keep breathing and walk and remember which way so I can get back again.
Being depressed is such hard work, when you see a depressed person, really depressed, and you see that absolute stillness, it's a like deep water, still on the outside and underneath, you've got a raging whirlpool. The brain of a person locked in that level of misery and fear is never still, everything is so minutely thought about and rethought about and worried about, the what if's to life are exhausting.
I have no idea what has triggered the end of this bout of extreme depression, except the tribunal, I think moving into this house allowed me to sleep and begin to heal, being told that it is acceptable to feel the way I feel, that being me is alright and I am not an inconvenience to society or the world, or my family. That was a good thing for my fuzzled head to know and understand.
Those little things, like Elijah, who came out to me while I was preparing a salad ( to go with the mousaka, that I MADE, from scratch, this morning, so was all ready when dinner time came around) Eli was crying " Betoz no-body don't want to be my bess friend and no-body don't want to let me do suffin and now I don't have anyfinn to do, wiv no-body. At all. Anywhere."
Instead of telling him to go and whine somewhere else because I am doing dinner and please don't whine all the time, my ears are about to bleed where's daddy????
I told him that I would be his best friend and if he stood on that chair he could chop some cucumber because we love that and boys can be so helpful can't they? To see that little face turn from such dejected nobody loves me face to shiny eyed happy, that makes me feel heartbroken for all the chances I have missed in the last year, it also makes me incredibly joyful because I am not about to miss any more.
So many things to pray for, sometimes I forget to pray because, well where to start?
I think all I need pray for, after the many thanks have been given, is just that I can keep feeling alive again. That I can recognise the signs if I ever begin to slide back down again, I don't ever want to feel that way, ever.
There have been times when I wished that I was in a 'normal' marriage, me here and H there, bringing in the bacon, more and more I can see that we need what we have. I can't imagine how life would be without H here for me, and me here for him.
Let the world be whatever it may be, our world though, seems pretty alright as it is. Thankyouverymuch.

Take a bow internets.

Today was a good day. Whenever I get to write that I am both thrilled and sad, thrilled because hey a GOOD DAY! Who wouldn't be thrilled? Sad because....well it being a good day is rare enough that I make a big deal of it.
Today was a good one, it began with hearing Elijah shout into the kitchen " Be back in a minute Elvith!" Who wouldn't think that was a great way to start the day? He was singing, with the aid of a whisk and Elvis on the iPod, playing very loudly through the speakers, and he had to pee, not wanting Elvis to be offended or get bored and leave, he made sure to let him know that he would be right back. The fact that I get to hear these things every day is music enough to my ears.
Today was tribunal day. The day I thought I get to have my say, let the government know that despite the insignificant little man from way back in August saying that I was not depressed or anxious and that I was perfectly capable of holding down a full time job, I am in actual fact useless. What a bizarre experience. Who, in their right mind wants to prove to strangers that they are useless? I didn't want to do it, I would have given my right arm ( or at least H's right arm, I rather like mine) to have avoided today. I had to do it though, when your life is such that many choices are taken from you, when every day normal activities are a challenge, when joy and peace of mind are things that frighten you because you just don't know how to hold onto them, when memories just won't leave you alone, even when they are unwelcome and painful, well when this is your life, you can't allow people with no clue to poo poo it all and flick you away as though you are nothing more than flotsam.
I needed to have my say. I had to set the record straight even though I felt so tiny and so unimportant, so helpless and sure that against something so huge as the government, I stood very little chance. I had no choice but to clear state my case.
H said he was coming with me, so that I wasn't alone, he came with me because he knows that trying to find strange places makes me sick and panic. I was so pleased he was coming because that meant that (because the RAC route planner that I had checked 74 times told me my destination was 16.4 miles away) I would need to allow just an hour ( and 10 minutes because I told H my appointment was at 11, when it was 11.10 because an extra 10 minutes never hurts does it) to get lost, find myself and get there on time, if I had gone on my own I would have allowed 2 hours for that 16 miles trip.
We did get lost, which was in a painful way a good thing, Uh Oh....missed the turning ACK look am heading towards TAUNTON on the M5!! Wrong way Wrong way....what to do????? Itchy welts and more itchy welts and how splendid, look how terrible I look! Then HA! H is with me, is almost funny, can find my way back and get there and not be late but ouch itchy itchy.
We did get there and had 30 minutes to spare, I sat with H for a while and then he waited in the car and listened to his iPod, I never want him to come in with me, just to be nearby.
While I waited inside, the clerk explained to me that I would be seeing a lawyer and a doctor, completely independent of the benefits system, who would question me and allow me to do what I had come for and state my case. She said that they would listen to me, then they would make a decision straight away.
When it was my turn to go in I felt so much more ill than I had imagined I would, this suddenly mattered so much and after 6 months of this stretching on and on, of doctors appointments and letters, of form filling and phone calls, after all that time of being spoken to as though I am the lowest of the low, well I was overwhelmed by the fact that this was it, it was almost over.
I didn't have a plan, at all, I just wanted to explain what my life is like.
As soon as I sat behind that enormous and intimidating desk, opposite the handsome and distinguished looking lawyer and the female, efficient looking doctor I could feel that maybe I wasn't going to be as controlled and impressive as I had imagined.
They asked questions and I answered them, so far, so good. Then they began to ask probing questions, those ones that can't be answered with a yes or a no or a simple reply. They began to ask about how I feel, rather than what I am able to do. I tried so hard to answer and that blasted lump thing happened, when you open your mouth to say something and the lump sticks in your throat, the pain starts to squeeze and damn it if nothing but a squeak comes out, I did what I haven't done for a long time, since those painful days of therapy when I had to put my fingers onto my lips and squeeze, hard, to stop that pain getting out.
They let me get my act together and then they managed to guess what I couldn't say. The doctor asked me if speaking on the phone was hard for me, when I told her that it was if I knew the people, but strangers were OK, she nodded and the lawyer looked up and said " did I hear you say that speaking to people you know is MORE difficult? Why would that be?"
I explained that my every day is pretty much filled with making sure that no-one around me sees what they had just seen " I can't let my family or friends see that what you just saw, is how I feel inside, every day, all the time. If I let them see they feel that they have to help me, fix it, make it better and they can't, then they feel bad and I feel guilt on top of everything else. I have to act as though I am alright, they can see me lose my temper, they can watch me yell or do nothing but they can't see what you just saw, so I avoid talking to them, problem solved."
Now, this is where you all get to take a bow. They asked me why I don't sleep, what it was that keeps me awake until 3am and wakes me up at 6.30am. I explained that while everyone is awake, I am working at the keeping it together thing, I am holding it in, being what people need me to be ( although increasingly less effectively as time goes on) I said that I feel as though I am holding my breath until everyone goes to bed, if H stays up later than 10.30 I feel unreasonably angry because when everyone goes to bed, that's when I get to breathe.
I told them that what that other doctor wrote regarding the internet made me furious, he wrote 11 times " likes to surf the internet for 2 hours every evening" After I explained why I go on the internet he just wrote that.
"Do you like the internet?"
" I LOVE the internet"
"What do you do on the internet"
" I.WRITE.MY.BLOG" I actually said it like that, not yelling but I leaned forward and I looked them right in the face and I said it with such pride. The lawyer said "Ah!" as if he knew and the doctor said
"Does that help you?"
"It is absolutely the only thing that has saved my mind, it is the single thing that stops me giving in. It has saved my life"
"Hmmm, how so?"
"Well, I can be who I am , I can tell it like it is and people read it, they don't have to fix it or mend me, I don't feel I have dumped my pain on anyone that is going to be burdened by it. By being able to do that every evening I get the strength to get through the next day. "
"Is that a good time for you?"
"Yes"
"Is it your most favourite time?"
"Absolutely"
"Do you like being alone?"
"yes, I like my husband being nearby but I like it best when we don't talk, when nothing is expected of me."
They asked more questions and I cried some more, I stopped crying again and I answered everything honestly.
I was told to go outside and wait for a while and they would call me back in when they had made a decision. Which took 3 minutes, they looked at me and said
"Well, we have made a decision and have decided that we will allow your appeal, we are convinced that you meet the secretary of states guidelines set out to determine whether people are entitled to incapacity benefit, you do meet all the requirements, the original decision was wrong, you will be refunded all the benefits that have been withheld since august last year"
I went with the clerk and filled in a form or two, I saw, on the side copies of the decisions to other appeals seen that day....."appeal denied"....she gave me a copy of the decision and said that it would be couriered to the appropriate people that day, she said that I didn't have to do anything, they would make a payment for all the benefits withheld over the last 6+ months.
The money is great, the fact that we will have that money every week is going to make all the difference in the world, the back pay will be a sweet sweet thing, the greatest part of the day though was actually being listened to and believed, when they said that the original decision was wrong they gave me back my self respect which has been missing for 6 months ( and a bit ) I walked out of there with a weight off my shoulders.
The most incredible part is that when I checked dates, I saw that this whole skin thing...the welts and the swelling and the pain....it all began the day after I had the letter saying that my benefit was being stopped, we had just moved into the stinking hated house, I was miserable to be in a hovel with no idea how we would afford to pay to live there and then the letter to say we would have even less money. The next day began the physical misery, I put it all down the that house, when all along it was misery and fear combined, living in a horrible scary house and having to scrimp and save and scrape together to pay for the misery of doing so.
I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the skin clears up. Wouldn't that be amazing?
Today was a great day....... I reckon even Elvis would agree.

And the good news is....

Good news. Fancy that. Sort of, in a backhanded way, with a sting.
I went to the dermatologist this morning, with the clearest, un stripey, unwelty, not a mark on me skin, it's almost laughable isn't it? The one day when I really wanted to be at my stripiest, nothing, not a mark. *sigh*
So in I went and young, sincere and most ernest learning doctor came to see me first, he has been reading all about skin and is keen to see my horrific case of urticaria, undetermined cause.
And as if my some miracle, before our very eyes.....STRIPES! WELTS! BUMPS AND ITCHY BITS. I am, if nothing else, a great floor show.
We chatted and watched and discussed and then he said that this is certainly NOT lupus, which is a very good thing but I cried, fat old desperate tears of frustration because oh dear this is so hard and I am so miserable because it isn't anything and yet my life, my miserable life is just dominated by this thing, this itching, ugly, exhausting thing and if I just had a name and a reason I could just say that I am this way because..........and I can't. I just have this miserable skin and it is ALL IN MY HEAD. That does not mean it isn't real and as far as wednesday and the tribunal goes, this is good because all those months ago, the powers that be decided that I am not depressed, not anxious and not depressed enough to warrant incapacity benefits, I can go out to work because I am FINE ! So, on wednesday I can go and see this whole panel of people and do a party trick, I can produce a pointy stick and write all over my forehead, arms, face and neck ( and even my backside should I be so moved) DISPROVE THIS SUCKERS!
I am depressed that being depressed can make so physically ill, which makes me more ill and more depressed.....I know that somehow I have to kick start my own recovery and I do not want to waste another day of my life with this misery, I think I could do it too if life didn't just keep swinging at me.
When I had finished with being looked at and drawn on ( with a stick...LOOK young learning doctor, see what happens when we draw with sticks on the back of a 45 year old woman with dermographic, something, something, urticaria!) I went to the maternity ward where Mel was waiting after spending the night, Jordan called at 11.30 to say that Mel was bleeding and HURRY. I hurried, she spent the night. After all the infections and what nots, Mels cervix is weak and she bled. All is well but there was to be an ultrasound, to make sure ( WHEEEEEEEEE!)
As we waited in the waiting room, the excitement was palpable, all 3 of us were giggly and guessing and saying how if this time, baby hid it's bits, we would be amused and take it on the chin and not sulk.
At last we went in ( with Mel having drunk 3 gallons of water, sugary lemonade and everything she could to make sure baby was AWAKE and MOVING and NOT SLEEPING DOWN IN THE PELVIS) ho hum, yes yes, head, marvellous, awww look, hair and little frowning brow.....yes, spine, heart tick tick, yes yes thigh bones. Pardon? Did they sex the baby last time? Why no, cord between legs, yes we DO want to know. Hold breath, strain forward, stare and then, she just said it, told us, in a dull flat voice as if ' milk 2 sugars' WHAT? What did you say? Do you have no idea that this is HUGE! How so you can mumble such breath taking and life changing news? All that wondering and waiting and guessing and then, we know. Like that. Milk and 2 sugars, next please. Well.
So we walked outside and talked about it and said how we knew and I didn't know and i was sure it wasn't and they were sure it was and OH MY GOODNESS...this is so exciting and now we know and we can buy things and plan things and remember that this is not my baby but just try and stop me being THIS excited about it!
I wish I could post the picture because it is the sweetest little face, with dear little nose and even visible hair. I took a picture of the one picture they got, with my phone and I have no way to get it from the phone to my laptop. I know that seeing that picture makes me long to see that little face for real and kiss it, a lot.

By the miracle of modern technology ( and leads suddenly remembered in pantry, of course)


So it is good news and I hope that tomorrow and then wednesday I can post more good news. We like good news...and baby boys.

Oh bloggin' hell.

Does that sound like swearing? It does, how marvellous because I feel like swearing with this blog lately, I sit and type and feeling satisfied with my post I hit 'publish post' and then every bloggin' time, this stupid internet goes pratty on me, we have super super broadband, supposedly, trouble is, with broadband you have to share it, the speed yesterday was something spectacularly cruddy like 45 something or other....should be 8000. Yes, we are officially slower than dial up but paying many times more.
The price for being in a town, with a gazillion other people who think they have important things to do online, they don't of course, nothing anyone wants to do is anywhere near as important as my blogging, looking up air fares to places in Canada and the US because I want to fly away and meet people I have never met and have some excitement and FUN ( canada in March is very cheap by the way, Florida in June? forget it.)
The wonderful thing about insomnia is that hoorah! Lines are free and I can actually check emails in less than 39 minutes, can look at blogs with pictures and even reply on message boards without losing the will to live.
I wrote the best ever blog yesterday, it was long and full of interesting facts, like H having a heart attack at dinner time, really I thought he did. He went grey, sweating, couldn't swallow or talk and the weirdest and most terrifying noise, like gurgling and gulping. I was the epitome of unfussy because that would have ensure his heart would explode, so I told him to sit quietly and asked in a round about way where I would find his heart spray should we need it, not that we do need it and does it hurt like when you had your heart attack and argh you look sort of sick and should I call someone, ambulance or Julie to sit with boys or an ambulance?
He was sort of OK within an hour or 3, with me not taking his pulse or checking that he was breathing. HE has a horrible cold and is clammy and stuffed up, but he is breathing and not grey anymore.
He is just such an private man, he hates fuss and he won't use 5 words if a grunt or nod will do.
We are not a smoochy couple, none of that gazing into each others eyes and proclaiming undying love, but I adore him and have no doubts that he thinks I am quite nice too.
I am so dependant on him for so much, I vowed I would never do that, didn't do it with the first one, don't feel like I rely on H really, but I do.
I need him purely because he makes me feel safe, not in a macho I'll get 'em for you way, but just because he is so incredibly calm always.
I am prone to run around with my fingers in my ears when stuff happens, kids fall over and there is blood and breath holding, I want to run for the hills, I do that useless sort of ARGH...HELP...UM......GET UP! ( very helpful, child falls down, is bleeding and wailing and on the floor, like yelling 'get up' will help!) I will pick up bleeding child and run around doing nothing but hyperventilate. H appears unruffled and just 'does,' This is why he has had a heart attack and I haven't I think.
He keeps the outside clear and calm and his heart is kabooming and squeezing the life out of itself.
I need him because when I ( not that I do anymore because I believe him now) whine and say that I hate myself and look, how ugly am I, blah blah, he never tries to say the right thing, he only ever says " I have no idea what you are saying"
He likes what he likes and there are no surprises, we can sit in the same room without saying a word all evening and it doesn't matter.
I lie in bed and listen to his snoring and I love it, not sawing logs, just a glorious gentle snore.
I look at him and my stomach flips, I love that on sunday, whether we go to church or not, he wears smart clothes and a white shirt because he wants to remember that it is sunday and he says wearing his dress trousers and shirt reminds him that he should behave with reverence, which he does always anyway. He is the most respectful man I have ever known and is a gentleman ( in the true sense of the word) I can't imagine life without him and if he weren't here the boys' lives would be so much poorer. My life would be emptier.
Being ill has made me see just how much I rely on him, more and more of late. When I came back from the doctors and saw the bed turned back, bedside light on and curtains drawn and knew that he was saying I could just go to bed, that meant the world to me. When we get back from church on sundays he keeps the boys entertained while I sleep, how pathetic that 3 hours at church, 1 hour of teaching 4 x 3 year olds wipes me out, every sunday I am more itchy and covered in welts than any other day, so I come home and sleep, for 3 hours usually. Never a word, never a sigh or a question, it just is the way it is.
He can be exasperating at times but I don't notice so much anymore, he doesn't do what is expected, which can be annoying at times but he is who he is and for me, that's just right. I felt real fear yesterday when I thought he was having another heart attack and his snoring last night was particularly comforting to me.
So I wrote this whole post last night and after 15 minutes of waiting for it to post...it didn't, it was lost forever, bloggin hell and blogger it.
Dan called yesterday to say that he has been offered the managers job at a restaurant owned by Jordan's boss, it is 4 miles away and would be wonderful for him, he is waiting to hear from the boss. who is going to visit Dan at the Hotel he works at now, then he will decide if he will come and work down here or try for the R.A.F.
He also said that he has booked 2 nights away for H and I, great tickets to see the Lion King at the west end and first class tickets on the train. It would be such a treat but I will wait until we see the tickets before I get too excited! Dan said he will stay here and look after the boys while we are away, H and I have never had a night on our own, ever.
The night we got married we stayed at our condo with 3 teenagers and a very cross Sophie, Seth was conceived that night and well, the rest is history, 3 babies in 3 years, 10 moves in 8 years.....we've had our heads down and noses to the grind stone ever since, it is only this past year that we can begin to lift our eyes and look around, take a breath and begin to enjoy each other and the boys.
Maddening that I am so pathetic and weary lately.
I really long to know what is causing this illness, today I have had an enormous flare up, my feet are swollen and painful, itching fit to make me insane, my neck and head itch, my eyes are still sore. Nothing is different, no extra stress.....what is making this happen?
I wish I could make myself go on some macrobiotic diet, or some kind of drastic health kick that would help but until we have some idea what is causing it, is there any point?
On march the 12th I have the tribunal for incapacity benefit, I have to travel and see a whole panel of strangers who will decide once and for all if I am faking it, if I am truly ill or just making it all up to get benefits.
I have a whole wad of paperwork all about me, written by someone who doesn't know me, a couple of pages written by my doctor and a page written by me.
I have no idea what I will be asked or what they expect, I imagine they will tick boxes and decide which box I fit into.
My life isn't such that it fits into any normal category is it? I don't know what I could do or say to explain how my life is and what I feel, I imagine that on the day I will do what comes naturally at the time, whether that convinces the panel that what I say is true or not, who knows.
I know that to most people I appear fine, that I manage to do what needs to be done, I do everyday things and I do them well, then when no-one can see I fall apart, my body is falling apart because it is trying to make me stop something, shut down, give in, which is impossible, how can I stop or give in or shut down? Oh well.......that's a couple of weeks away yet.
Ah, you see...just as I type that.....Sophie just called, crying. nearly midnight and she is on her way to tell me what is the matter, I will talk and listen and advise and then she will go and do what she wants to do, she will ( I hope) feel better and I will feel worse, when will this situation end? When will she actually listen and change what she is doing so she can change how she feels?
I am glad she feels able to talk to me, I just wish she would listen as well.
No spell check and no time to check it myself, enjoy my typos!!

After the visit.
She cried a lot, I sat and tried to get a word in while she told me how no-one cares and all she wants is a home where she is wanted and can put pictures up and she cried some more and then I took her home, I told her to come back tomorrow, when she has had a sleep and we will watch some girlie movies ( bought 3 of the chickiest flicks at blockbuster on saturday) and talk properly, I also told her that I do love her but until she is actually willing to help herself we are all pretty much helpless.
I really cried when I dropped her off and actually let her see that, I told her how it feels to be her mum and watch her do this to herself, how impossible it is to hug her and love her in a demonstrative way when I am worrying my skin off about whether this is the night she will be raped or murdered. When I have been awake half the night wondering if she is walking through industrial estates, half dressed at 3am, when she turns up here at 7am and says she has been sitting in the car since 4am, how can I throw my arms around her and say how happy I am to see her? I'm not superwoman and personally, I think not grabbing her by the neck and shaking the crap out of her shows pretty darned incredible restraint.
Maybe tomorrow we can make some headway but I won't hold my breath until she is ready to hear what I say.

Nine hundred and ninety nine.

Posts, I tell you now because that number is more pleasing to me than 1000. What in the world have I been blathering on about for 999 posts? All kinds of things, happy and heartbreaking, scary and hysterical. I love that I have written this blog, I hope that I will keep doing it and be able, in years to come, to look back and remember, cringe, laugh, cry, whatever I read, from way back when, I am transported right back and can recall exactly what I was feeling and how I got through it. I highly recommend blogs to all and sundry.
There are times when I almost forget why I started writing and am carried away by the need for comments. Lately the comments have dried up and because for some reason, Google stoped tracking for me, I have felt a little alone, once or twice, when I wrote a post that I thought was funny, or particularly poignant and darn it, no comments or maybe 1 or 2, I have ( to my shame) been disappointed and thought that I wouldn't bother anymore. Then the evening came around and I felt the pull of the laptop to spew all my woes, stories, thoughts down again and I realised that this blog is for ME. I love comments, I really enjoy knowing people have been here and read all my drivel but honestly, I need it for me. Also I have fixed google and so I can see that even if you don't tell me you have been here, I know you have. You can run but you just can't hide!

I have been walking though treacle just lately. You all know how I love CLEAN and TIDY and SHINY and SPARKLY, I love that, I don't have it though, not lately. I want it and crave it and yet every day I see what needs doing and ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, I just can't. That sock right there? Should pick it up and put it in the wash but that would mean bending down and using muscles. Energy, energy wherefore art though energy? Lawdie, it's a rough trop these days. I am still incredibly stripey, pale and watery eyed.....old and weary. I have had to start admitting my shortfalls, saying I can't and sorry and I wish I could but.....
I can sleep until noon, get up for 4 hours and prefectly able to sleep again. Maybe I am catching up after 23 years of insomnia, whatever it is a bit scary. I even though, briefly because what a horrendous thing to feel, that I am dying. Whatever this whole deal is with my skin and bones and life, is something that is literally sucking the very life out of me. Stupid. It's so hard to have to look at people and say that I'm sorry, I would love to go and do and enjoy, but oh dear, I have itchy skin.....not very dramatic or symapthy inducing is it? Nothing to call it. Nothing to explain why I just haven't been able to wash that corner yet, clean that wall yet. All stuff that probably on'y I see ( apart from the kitchen floor, who could not see that floor?) H could ( and would certainly) do it, but it still wouldn't be the way I love to see it and anyway he is absolutely looking after these boys, taking them out for 2 hours so I can sleep.....entertaining them here while I sleep or sit and think about everything that I wish I could do.
It is certainly all getting worse without my being able to say how, exactly.
I have another appointment but it isn't until March 10th, which seems forever away, it'll fly by though I'm sure, what will be done at that appointment will remain to be seen, I forsee a bit of desperate pleading and and cure for all this nonsense. Please. Really please.
Have to go now, have been awake for 2 hours, need to lie down and scratch my stripey face some more.
Spell check is not working, hasn't worked for some time, I would apologise for the typos but blergh......it all adds character to my writings ( or something!) So, here's to 999 posts, better try and come up with a doozy for the next one! And...say hello for goodness sake!

It's sunday.....

It's sunday, seems like no-one reads blogs at the weekend, so I am going to just indulge myself and write about the never ending skin crap.
The longer this goes on, the more I see a pattern, things that fall into a place. What works, what doesn't, what is guaranteed to hurt etc.
Here's what I see so far. Oh before I go on about all that, yesterday I just had the worst day, the itch is in my eyes, that hurts, that REALLY hurts,



More than it looks like it hurts.
I went to the hospital and the Dr there checked them out, spoke to the eye specialist on call, gave me some drops that either did nothing to help and allowed them to get so much worse, or they made it all worse, whatever, they are worse. I have never felt anything like it, I slept until 1.40 this afternoon because keeping them closed is the only thing that eases the pain.
It isn't pink eye, not conjuncitivitis, it is whatever the skin thing is, exactly the same, burns and hurts like the devil itself, hurts and hurts and more hurts and then suddenly, without any reason STOPS, just gets better. At 4.35 this afternoon it just stopped hurting, right like that, exactly on the 4.35 dot. Went from agony and dear Lord I can't take another second of this misery, to ooooh, it stopped. So I looked at the clock.... see? Too weird.
My eyes are still swollen, still very red, still a tiny bit itchy but not hurting anymore, I can take that.
My skin does the same, agony, wishing for death or coma , can't stand anymore STOPS.
It is worsened every month by having my period, not sure if that is hormonal or if it's the drugs I take to stop the ridiculously heavy bleeding.
Asprin or Ibuprofen make it worse, much worse.
Stress makes it worse, immediately, if I worry or something scary happens, WELT... itch, scratch.
When I get a flare up, my joints hurt, horribly. Real feeling like my ankles are snapping, my hips are screaming, my shoulders are hurty hurty.
I am becoming more allergic and more sensitive to every day things, I think colouring my hair has something to do with this new outbreak. I dyed my hair on friday night and got that horrendous knock back fume thing as I started to put the colour on my hair, it made me gasp and step back for a second, then I just carried on. my head has truly reacted badly to the colour I used and I wonder if those fumes hurt my eyes. I know I didn't get any dye in my eyes.
I straightened my hair and left it down and wherever the hair touched, got welts, my ears were burning and my forehead swelled. I have had my hair up today and washed it again to try and reduce the burning. The docto said I should never colour my hair again but that isn't an option, I hate to admit to vanity but I cannt have completely silver hair yet, I am going to look for plant based dyes rather than a chemical one.
I'm not sure that food makes a difference, I haven't noticed a reastion to any foods, friday night I was ill but hadn't eaten anything new or untoward, so the jury is out on that one.
I do know that I am very done with hoping this will go away, I am going to go to the doctor and really insist that I am tested until we find out why. I am tired of feeling so crappy all the time. All.The.Time.