How hopeless. This was supposed to take the place of a handwritten daily diary, instead of which it’s becoming as much of a chore as doing the laundry or paying the bills. And the more time passes, the more there is to record, and the longer it’ll take, and the faster I just get paralysed.
So while also updating my son’s blog, and downloading photos from the camera of his belated (yes, 3 mths’ late) Carol concert this afternoon, and checking emails, I’m treating myself back with my own blog, just to note for the record that:
- I really need to change theme as the thing looks so dour it doesn’t really make attending to it terribly creatively inspiring. [NB this has been addressed with the gorgeous Matala theme]
- I’m now 3.5 weeks into the post-partum life, and tomorrow is my first day looking after both boys without any help whatsoever. Accordingly I started today to try to instill some kind of routine (instead of non-stop feeding from 6am to 2pm, which wasn’t doing my humour or my bosoms any good), and with the diligent repeated shoving-in of a dummy, seem to be getting somewhere.
- I had 24 hours from hell last week with a false alarm on the baby’s temperature resulting in me having to spend the night on the paediatric ward at the local hospital, at one (very low) point, me dripping in tears (I just wanted to go home (as I wailed at a nurse)) and milk (it was literally spurting out all over the place from my glass-boulder-like bosoms), while holding my baby on my lap with his nappy off as I tried (in vain) to catch some urine for a sample in a plastic pot. In the end I only got that an hour later when I decided to change him and he decided to do a wee vertically, which fell over his face. I got one drop.
- Otherwise things have been going nottoobadly; the baby is a v sweet little chap; his sleeping, after the first few nights, is pretty good – at least better than DS1’s was. I like that opportunity to check Facebook or play Sudoku at 3am anyway. Only trying to update my blog on my iPhone using just my thumb to key an entry in is asking a bit too much, which is a shame as that’d be the ideal time.
I’m now past my self-allotted 10 minutes so back to finish the other jobs. I’m boring myself. I think I can safely say that I’m not quite at the stage where this blog is going to signal my rise to fame and fortune (Julie and Julia style). But that’s OK as it’s Not the Point. And anyway I desperately need to go to bed.
Over and out.
Vaginal varicose veins. Umm, nice.
One of the few pregnancy ailments that are barely mentioned (understandably), but now that I’m suffering I’m finding that most others are in the same boat (particularly second-or-more timers). Basically the weight of the baby and the increased blood flow to that area means that the veins are filling up with blood and it’s not flowing easily through them.
On the plus side, they should subside post birth (I’ve had reports that this happened).
On the negative side, they can burst during birth (also reported by a close friend) leading to potentially serious blood loss for the mother. The person this happened to had quite severe veins and had to sit on icepacks when pregnant just to ease the discomfort and heaviness.
Mine are apparently ‘mild’ (though things do feel swollen in that department) and the birth centre, which doesn’t have a labour ward attached to it, where I want to give birth in 2.5 weeks have said I don’t need to worry. The midwife there said if they burst they’ll tie a knot in them (I think she was joking). The pregnancy yoga teacher said to focus on pelvic floor exercises on short, sharp bursts, rather than long holds, to try to encourage the blood flow.
I think it’s interesting that, at least in the UK, you can go through a pregnancy without anyone actually having a look around that area. So if you don’t feel confident enough to mention that things are uncomfortable, I imagine that lots of people experience these varicosities without any explanation of what they are, just putting them down as one of the many ailments of pregnancy that we just grin and bear.
More on that list later…
Even I balk at £4.75 for a large stale scone and not enough jam.
Obviously scone turnover in February is not what it is during the summer (hence stale-ness). But why the jam pots are never generous enough I have no idea.
And the price is extortionate for what you get, but on the other hand, is there any interest for [the National Trust, in this case] in reducing its food prices? Would it affect demand? In this context, I think not much: people have already paid to enter the Trust property; they expect to pay extra for teas (et al), and I don’t believe there are hoards of people who’ve paid to come in to the grounds but who wouldn’t pay for tea if they wanted it. There’s always the odd bod who’s brought their own sandwiches, but not enough of them that reduced prices would encourage them to switch in a sufficient volume to bring extra profits to the Trust.
A bit of competition, that’s what we need…
BF has just returned home from a dinner with a colleague to tell me that colleague’s child was so angry at the arrival of his new sibling, he smeared the walls with his poo. Nice.