What my children mean to me #dosomethingyummy

It’s not cancer, it’s curable, it will be over within four months.

This is my daily mantra.

These words help me pick up BB when she falls again as her hip dislodges, these words let me see the light at the end of the tunnel. More

I would be dead….

Both my pregnancies have resulted in me being placed in a wheelchair and wheeled into an operating theatre to have my children removed from my tummy via the sunroof.  They were never traveling down the birth canal, with a shadow of a doubt without assistance from a team of midwives I would have died giving birth to my beautiful babies. More

Living with an epileptic baby….

Its been six months since BB had her first seizure. I remember watching my smallest turn blue and convulse and I genuinely thought I was losing her. The horror of not knowing what was happening to my baby was insurmountable. Tears spring to my eyes as the memory surfaces of the fear that grabbed hold of my heart when the fit controlled her.

Newsworthy…… I think not…..

Sometimes I read rubbish stuff; mainly from the trash magazines that I read for a guilty pleasure but more often from the rags we call newspapers. 

Today the headline that caught my eye in the Metro was: More

could you have done this?

Years ago, back in the day when I still wore little knickers because I was slim, as opposed to big knickers to make me look slim I worked in the caring profession.  Ironic really as most people wouldn’t describe me as the caring type; but still before my career, before kids came along I enjoyed a range of titles from residential social worker through to psychiatric care assistant. 

I was remembering these years today whilst out on a run and I remembered one night when I turned up for a temporary role at an old folks nursing home.  I was penniless after spending the three months prior to that night in a student bar with a book in hand having the time of my life at college.  I needed funds and fast and so night shifts were the way to go as you always got time and a half and more often than not you could sneak in some shut-eye at some point.

 So my nineteen year old slightly spotty self rocked up at a nursing home in Yorkshire and was greeted by the matron who was very pleased to see me as my arrival meant she could trot off home for the evening.  To my sheer surprise she explained that I would be alone that evening with just twenty-six elderly chaps and ladies for company all of whom would be tucked up tightly in their beds.

In the years I worked in various nursing homes I saw some rubbish practices but I am afraid this blog isn’t tackling those tonight as I put my soapbox on the top shelf in the garage and I can’t reach to get it down.  Looking back I would agree that it wasn’t wise to leave a nineteen year old care assistant in charge of all those people but hey ho at nineteen I thought I could run Britain so I was pretty confident. 

Matron explained that all I had to do was make the rounds hourly and check each bed and occupant, and as we walked around the sleeping folk she gave a brief history…

“This is Arthur, he is 86 and sleeps through…. This is Martha; she sometimes gets up to go to the loo…”

And then we reached Ethel’s bed and she paused for a moment,

“Hmmm, this is Ethel,” she coughed “hmmmm, Ethel is 92, she is in good health, loves The Arches, has six grand children ” she carried on and on, “and Ethel likes sitting in the sun, she sleeps well generally but occasionally her bowel falls out and you need to pop it back in.”

And off Matron continued to the next bed whilst I stood aghast, jaw making thudding noises on the floor and imagination on overdrive.

I mean can you imagine, nineteen, no real medical training, an ego as big as a house and zero and I mean zero experience in popping bowels back in.

Terrified that if I confessed my inexperience in replacing bowels I would be sent home without my seventy pounds worth of drinking money I swallowed my horror, hid my ignorance and waved Matron farewell and locked up. 

On the hour every hour I wandered the dark halls, jumping out of my skin when Maratha shuffled off to the bathroom and every hour I studiously swerved past Ethel’s bed until at 3am I heard a shout and what I can only describe as a trumping noise.  In fact yes, it sounded just like an elongated fart and it came from under Ethel’s duvet.

It was terrible, it was like my legs were controlled by an external source as they dragged themselves over to Ethel’s bed and I had an out of body experience as I watched my hand tentatively lift the edge of the duvet.

There it was, my first bowel experience, previously I had had bowel movements but frankly they don’t compare.

What could I do, I couldn’t leave it, no lady wants to be caught with internal bits hanging out.

So using only my northern sense for guidance I leaned over and ‘popped’ it back in.

It truly was a once in a lifetime occurence.

Needless to say it was my last night shift at that particular home.

Sunday Sanity

A bit more Sunday sanity for you.

Next week is going to be a bit stressful in our house, baby beautiful has her first MRI scan which means she is going to be given a general anesthetic which terrifies me and then to add insult to injury I have to take rabid hound to the vets, without sedation.

So I am concentrating on feel good blogs and posts that make me laugh this week to share with you, please let me know what you think of these little beauties!

The first read of the week is from HerMelness, I love this blog as Melinda’s alter ego never fails to make me smile; please check out her letter to Kate Middleton – it will make you laugh .  Also if you are still looking for a free ride to cybermummy she is running a competition with one golden ticket as the prize.

 This next one is a picture without words, superamazingmum’s entry for Silent Sunday warmed my cockles this morning when I opened and it had to be included.  Go and make yourself smile over at her blog

Finally the last post to make you laugh out loud comes from Mammywoo, who manages to mix up vegetarianism, post natal depression and leading cows to the slaughter all in one rather touching but hilarious blog post.  Check out The Cow, the Club and the Crazy person here.

Finally if you missed it this week, I had a hilarious guest post over on my blog from imperfect pages where she confesses about her own poop nightmare.  Have a look here.

So thats all folks, if you have read or written a funny this week please leave a comment so I can check it out and share the laughter.

Have a good week

Reflux: how to cope

Before twin boy decided to cast aside his nappies and make my life a living hell with his various toilet mishaps he still subjected me to experiences I never realised a mother could have. 

 I recently found this video which shows what life was like with him in the ‘reflux’ years.  It still brings tears to my eyes, but that could just be a mothers love.

Let me know what you think:

Twin Boy: The Reflux Years

Does this mean this is my first Vlog?


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Copyright © Jane Blackmore and Northernmum, 2010-2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jane Blackmore and Northernmum with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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