Author Archive: Robyn

Man, What A Downer This Blog Has Been Lately

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Just because I’m having a crap time doesn’t mean the rest of you have to suffer!

So let’s see, what’s going well in Robyn’s life…

She found her wedding ring.  In Simon’s sock drawer.  Which was behind her when she tripped. So the universe conspired as not only did the drawer have to be open, but the ring had to fly into the air, over her head and into the drawer.  Simon found it when looking for, surprise surprise, socks.

Adam seems to be settling a bit more with each visit to Day Care.  She hopes she has not jinxed herself by writing that as he doesn’t go back until Monday.  She is hoping a few days off, with all of Mama’s attention, will help him on Monday when she leaves him again.

We have hot water.  We did not have hot water last night. No idea why.  Plumber came, plumbed things, and now we do.

Shower is being replaced in the En Suite.  The paint on all the walls, inside and out, of the loo has been buckling and chipping off for awhile.  Landlord told building management.  Building management said it must be tenant’s fault.  Landlord, thank god, didn’t believe that, but agreed to see if replacing tile shower with PVC would solve problem, along with stripping and repainting the buckled bits.  So that’s in progress.  And she is very pleased with the choice of PVC.  She was thinking landlord, being like most landlords, would go cheap with plain white.  She is getting marble effect instead.  And being PVC? Much easier to keep clean than tile as not so many seams.  She was hoping for a new shower pan and door as well, but it was not to be.  See? Cheap landlords. 🙂

She managed to upgrade this here blog all by her lonesome.  She’s very proud of that fact even though it was really very easy.

And now she is wondering why she wrote this entire post in the 3rd person.

Reflections on a Year

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Well…over 13 months.

Anyway, as Adam and I gear up for our next big adventure, him starting day nursery and me having free time away from him on a regular basis, I’ve started to reflect on the past year.

As this year has gone by there have been some truly horrible moments.  Moments when I’ve sat crying, Adam in my arms, exhausted, overwhelmed, aching with arthritis and fibro and depression, knowing Simon wouldn’t be home from work for hours.  Knowing that I couldn’t even call him and ask him to come home early because he told me about a big meeting or he’s teaching at a far away campus.  And wondering if I was the most selfish person in the world for having a baby with all my health issues, both mental and physical.

So I asked my sister, was I? Was I incredibly selfish to have Adam?

And she was, as always, brutally honest.  She said, you well know that I had reservations and worries when you got pregnant.  That your brother and I were both worried about your mental health and physical health issues.  And you know what? We worried for nothing.  You are a wonderful mother.  Adam is thriving.  Your company is taking off.  So, no.  You were not selfish to have Adam.  You wanted a baby and you had a wonderful one.

And I cried.  And I cry as I write this.  Because saying it out loud was hard enough.

Finding out I was wrong? Was even harder.

Because it showed me something I’ve never wanted to believe about myself.  I am just like everyone else in the world.  I have doubts.  I am, at times, hard on myself.

And I hate that.  I hate that I care what others think sometimes.  I hate that I question my ability to be Adam’s Mummy.

Because Adam is indeed thriving.  Not just because he’s 31 inches tall and weighs 28 pounds.  But because he’s starting to talk.  And walk.  And feed himself.  So he doesn’t talk English and he stumbles and the spoon is usually up side down?

He’s learning.

And so’s his mum.

In Case Anyone Is Wondering

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I didn’t go to Iain’s funeral.

I am not sure I can explain why, except it didn’t feel right (and had nothing to do with not having anything to wear, honest).  I have been saying good bye to him a little bit each day and grieving in my own quiet way.

If anyone would like to know more about what Iain was like, there is a fantastic tribute page to him here, complied by Group Intellex.

My favourite quote has got to be Eoin Lambkin’s, who is a mutual friend as well as business acquaintance, who said “…he had a special way of spinning everything into a positive and never had a bad word for anyone, even if he thought they were plonkers”. Well put, Eoin.  Sums Iain up perfectly.

I Just Keep Thinking…

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I  just spoke to him Tuesday. How can he be dead?

Iain Paul Kay was my friend who died suddenly last week.

I’ve known Iain for about 5 or so years, through our mutual work for the Science Park.  Iain worked in Network Sales for Atlas-Communications.

Since I’ve been on maternity leave, and now that I’ve started Designed To A Tee, we’ve become friends.  We’ve had coffee, we’ve chatted on the phone.  We’ve made plans for working together.

And Thursday morning he was found dead in his house.

And I, like everyone who knew him, are in shock.

He wasn’t ill.  Oh he smoked.  He probably ate a bit more than he should.  He’s been having some stressful times.  But he was fine.  He and I joked in our usual manner.  And signed off with ‘Okay, talk to you soon.’  As we always did.

The funeral is this Thursday, and in a reeling way that Iain would so appreciate, along with ‘But I just spoke to him on Tuesday’ my head is filled with ‘But I have nothing to wear for a funeral’.

RIP my friend.  I already miss you desperately.

Spreading The Bad Customer Service Word

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So when my mom got sick in London and never made it back for Adam’s birthday, she left a whole lotta stuff here.

So I’ve boxed it up and tried to ship it UPS, who seemed to have the best rates. Except I got caught in a never ending loop of: –

Oh, you can use a credit card to ship that.

Oh but you need a UPS account in case there are custom’s charges.

Oh, but you can’t have a UPS account because you say you won’t ship much.

Oh but the receiver can have one. My mum gets one. Oh but the sender needs one as well, no matter that your credit card is on file with us.

Oh you will ship a lot (yes, I lied to the website, sue me)? Awesome, you can have a UPS account, someone will contact you within 24 hours.

That was 3 days ago. I am still waiting for someone to contact me.

And now I’m shipping with DHL.

And posting this story every where I can think on the internet.

Letter To My Son – Adam – 13 Months Old

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Dear Adam

Today you are 13 months.

The Saga Of The Lump is finally over.  You have a scar under your left arm that is approximately 7 cms long.  The swelling is almost gone and for the first time in over a year your left side has no lump.  It feels very strange to Dada and I, I must say!

Grandma and Pops came to visit for your 1st birthday.  Unfortunately, before that day actually arrived, Grandma found herself in the hospital in London and never made it back to Belfast.

But you had fun while she was here: –

SDC10170

In the last few months you’ve had chicken pox, a cold, surgery and a tummy bug.  This means your sleeping has gone to pot.  Mama doesn’t think you’ve slept through the night in about 2 months, except occasionally.  She is asking very nicely for that to be over.  Thanks.

You are now a real standing boy, BTW.  Holding on, hands free, a few little steps.  Crawling has not happened, although you do manage to get around, between bum shuffling and sort of scooting.  Mama will try to get it on video!

Finally, you’ve started settling in at day care.  The first few days were fine, the 4th one you were a bit hysterical.  But we’ll get you there and I think you are going to have  a lot of fun while there.  The baby room is just a big room full of toys!  So you’ll get to play play play all.day.long! How can that be bad?

And finally…you, my son, are 28 pounds and 31 inches tall.  That’s the 91st centile for both.  So you’re already about the size of a 2 year old.  Mama is already envisioning buying your P1 uniform in a size for a 6th Former.

Love

Mama

Today Tops The Crappy Day List

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I can’t talk in detail about part of it, because I don’t really know who reads this and who doesn’t and I don’t want to spread a certain item of news through my blog, but suffice it to say, its bad.  I’ve lost someone I’ve known for quite awhile (not a family member) who I was starting a new phase of our already wonderful friendship with.  It was very very sudden and very very unexpected.  Everyone who knew this person is in shock.  RIP my darling.  I’ll write about it more as I know the news has spread.

Then, Adam is ill.  He’s been running a fever off and on all day, topping out at 101 F.  That’s about 38 C.  For the record, body temp in C means nothing to me.  So our thermometer reads in F.

Finally, I’ve lost my wedding ring.  I don’t wear my rings around the house, since my hands are constantly being washed, sucked on, covered in poo, what have you.  So I take them off, slide them onto my watch band, secure the band and the whole caboodle goes in my jewellery box.  I was doing this after getting home this morning when I tripped.  And my rings went flying.  I found my engagement and my claddagh rings, but my wedding ring seems to have disappeared.  Simon and I are afraid it went flying out the open window, even though I am sure I heard three clangs as they hit the wood floor.  So we will keep looking.

And thus ends my crappy day and my not so great week.

Next week is bound to be better…right?

A Good Dentist Is To Be Prized Beyond Rubies…

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So, if you asked my mom what my number one fear was, she’d say, probably with no hesitation, the dentist.

This fear was started when I was about 3 or 4 and went to what might have been my very first ‘real’ dentist appointment, as in was going to have a cleaning etc.

New things are scary for small children anyway, and this dentist was an idiot.  First of all, my mom wasn’t allowed in with me.  Second of all, as I sat there, screaming and crying with fear, he clamped his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up.  My mom eventually made it past the receptionist and got me out of there.  But the worst part? Was this same receptionist (or whatever she was) leaning over into my still sniffling, crying face and saying ‘You’re going to behave next time, aren’t you Robyn.’  I’m not sure if my mom actual said ‘There won’t be a next time.’  But I know I never saw that dentist again.

This bad beginning was compounded by years of painful dental treatment.  I have a very small mouth (shush you in the back) and a very tight frenulum, which is the small piece of skin that attaches your upper lip to your gums.  If you run your tongue along the front of your top teeth, you’ll feel it there.  So I was given a frenectomy to remove it and loosen my top lip, in preparation for braces.  It didn’t work.  And my frenulum? More or less grew back.

And then my adult teeth began coming in.  And X-Rays showed that both of my eye teeth were coming through the roof of my mouth.  At that point I was already wearing braces (which, now that I think about it, doesn’t make much sense, why did  I have braces before all my adult teeth were in? Mom?) so they cut into the roof of my mouth, brought my eye teeth down and attached them to my braces to bring them forward.  Since they didn’t get a chance to mature all the way, my eye teeth are about 60% bonding, to make them the right size.

Then there was wisdom teeth removal.  And other bad dental experiences.

Where I finally ended up as was a grown up who didn’t go to the dentist.  For years.

Oh I went occasionally.  I had a half way decent dentist on the Embarcadero when I worked in San Francisco.  Then I stopped working in the city and stopped going.

And then I moved to Belfast.  At some point in the last 7 years I did find a dentist who I saw maybe 2 or 3 times before she closed her City Centre office.  Her other office was all the way who the hell knows where and so I stopped going again.

And then I had Adam.

Now Simon is about as good as I am about going to the dentist.  So we made a pact.  I would find us all a NHS dentist and we’d all start going.

And then I rang every dentist on the NHS registry located in Belfast.  And not *one* of them was taking new patients.

And then I rang Loughridge Dental Care. They don’t do NHS dentistry (except children, Adam is on NHS until he’s 4).  And they aren’t cheap.

But they are the most wonderful dental practice I have ever experienced.

From the moment I spoke to their receptionist/dental assistant on the phone, I knew this was the place for me.  She was kind and  understanding.  She let me ask many many questions.

And then I met Chris Loughridge, the dentist.  Who came into the waiting room and said ‘I’m Chris.  I’m the dentist.’  He was so relaxed and so obviously enjoyed what he did.

The next two hours were exhausting and intensive, with XRays and a partial cleaning (my teeth were so bad Rita, the hygienist, could only get the top done in the amount of time she had) and a long talk with Chris as to what I wanted out of my dentistry and my history (including the above story which shocked him) and where should we go from there?

Where we went from there was my second appointment, which was today.  The XRays found 3 cavities, including my cracked tooth that I knew about as I’ve been sticking my tongue into the hole for years!  The dental team also found fairly profound gum disease and the need for major, deep cleaning.

So today we filled the crack in my tooth.  And Chris is the first dentist I have every had who managed to pre-numb my gum enough that I never felt the needle.  Who waited long enough for the Novocaine to actually work.  Who filled my tooth with no pain.  Who got me to breath and relax.  Who cracked jokes as he drilled.

Of course, it helped that Adam was sitting over by a window, in his pram, babbling away and making all of us laugh!

But I laughed at Chris as well, as he asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to have the other two filled today, on the other side of my mouth, so I wouldn’t be able to talk at all? I told him I was sure!!

And so, I have found a dentist.  Hopefully Simon will be seeing him soon as well.  And Adam has had his first check up (in that Chris and I got him to open his mouth and Chris counted his teeth!).

And with a bit of luck, and frequent preventative care, Adam will never hear the words I heard today when Rita said ‘I’ll need you to come back.  I’ll need to numb you to get the bottom teeth clean.’

And hopefully, I’ll never hear it again either.

I Am Beginning To Wonder

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why I post at Mumsnet at all.

No matter what you post over there you are either accused of being judgey (as they say) or a troll.  Its really annoying.

Granted, I’ve made some friends over there.  The 40+ mummies.  Some local mums that I just met IRL on Friday.

But for the most part, its full of vitriol and angst and anger.  And,  yes, people being judgey.

I would hope that a site that The Times called:

“The country’s most popular meeting point for parents”

Would be less judgemental. More supportive.

And at times, it is. There have been many posters who have been in dire need who the people on the site have rallied around.

But those threads are few and far between. If you believe people who have been posting on there since the beginning, it used to be 100% supportive. I, personally, don’t believe them.

So why do I keep posting there? Because its fun, I guess. I get to let my inner bitch out on occasion, knowing that the worst that will happen is I’ll get bored with it and hide the thread. Which I do a lot.

But I also start writing replies a lot and then don’t post them. Because I am not in the mood for being bitched at back.

So I suppose I’ll continue to post there.

But maybe I’ll stick to the 40+ and the local thread.

For my blood pressure, if nothing else.

The Final Instalment of The Saga Of The Lump

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The final instalment of the Saga of the Lump actually started last Thursday.  Simon had taken the day off work so that I could go to a Revenue and Customs class on allowable business expenses.  He sent me a text in the middle saying ‘Ring me as soon as.’  I texted back saying I didn’t think we were going to get a break what was it.  His reply was that the surgeon had rung about possible not doing the surgery as there was a new beta blocker protocol.  I was fuming.  All well and good to tell us all the options, but 3 days before he was to go in for the surgery?!?!

When I finally got to speak to the Consultant, Mr Dick, he explained that he felt that it was important that we have all the information.  But I did not feel like we got it all as he couldn’t tell us side effects, length of treatment or anything else except that beta blockers had been known to work.  I told him forget it, let’s operate.  He agreed.

We arrived at the hospital at about 745.  We checked in with reception and headed up to the Day Procedures Ward (henceforth known as DPW).  Simon and I watched with much amusement as a youngish lady walked onto the ward wearing a Little Black Dress.  We raised our eyebrows at each other.  And then did so again when she came over and introduced herself as a member of the team operating on Adam.  There has since been debate as to whether she always dresses that way or if she was on her way out after or if she had just arrived from the night before!

She then informed us that Adam would need his blood typed and cross matched because they just weren’t sure how many veins there were or how big they might be.  They usually use something they call ‘magic cream’ for inserting needles on children, but it takes 45 minutes to work and there just weren’t 45 minutes available.  So we held Adam down as they tried to get blood out of what looked like a good vein in his foot.  He cried hysterically as the needle was inserted, with Simon and I holding him, stroking his face and talking to him.  No blood came through the needle, but when the needle was removed he bleed copiously so they put a tube under that and viola they had the blood they needed!

Adam continued to be hysterical as I scooped him up and held him, with Simon pressing a pad on his foot to stop the bleeding, until Adam finally fell asleep in my arms.  At this point he was only wearing a nappy as they had to remove his footed PJs to find a vein for the blood letting, as it came to be called!

He slept for about 45 minutes and then we were taken to the pre-theatre playroom.  He had remained in just a nappy and it was chilly in there so I regretted not redressing him or bringing him a blanket.  It is the only room in the hospital that Simon and I have ever been in that wasn’t completely over heated!

After a short wait, during which Adam entertained himself pushing buttons on this light display thing (if he’d been older, he could have played their Wii! Very well stocked play room!!).  Then we were told that since he is 1, only one parent could take him back.  So Simon said ‘You go.  You can sing to him.’  Simon kissed him and Adam and I went into the anaesthesiology room.  Just like last time, when he had GA for his MRI, he fought hard against the mask, but this time even singing didn’t calm him. The gas finally won and he was asleep.  I kissed his cheek and his forehead, told him I loved him, and was led from the room.  And that’s when I nearly lost it.  I was fine up until then, but leaving him there, so small, unconscious, without me, the tears came.  The person who was walking me out cracked some stupid joke and the moment passed.

Simon and I were starving at this point so we went to the cafe and had some coffee and some food and waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Mr Dick just came to us after about an hour and said it was over.  Adam was fabulous and it was easy to remove.  The mass would be sent to pathology but Mr Dick was convinced it was benign, just a mass of puss and blood and fluid.

After about 15 minutes we were told we could go down to recovery.  We heard Adam long before we saw him, crying his head off.  He stopped once he saw us.  We let him swallow some milk and then took him back to the DPW.

Once there we were informed that Dr Taylor, the anaesthesiologist, was concerned about pain due to the length of the incision.  It was suggested we stay on the ward for at least another 2 hours to see how Adam was as the local wore off and then perhaps overnight for pain management.

Adam in HospitalAdam in hospital pram, post-surgery.

We tried to get Adam to sleep, even taking him for a walk in a hospital pram, but he just wouldn’t settle.  At 2pm Simon realized he was starving and went to get a sandwich as I tried to get Adam some painkiller as he seemed sore when he moved his arm.

Just minutes after Simon left, Dr Taylor showed up.  I said to him ‘I think he hurts, but he’s so unsettled, I am not sure staying here is the best idea.’

Dr Taylor said ‘Well, how about we give you some codeine, you take him home, where I agree he will probably settle better, and if you  need us, ring?’

‘Deal!’ I said and rang Simon, who had just grabbed a sandwich!

And so we came home.

Now, 5 days post op, we’ve had the pressure bandage removed and replaced with regular plasters, which are coming off tonight.  His scar goes side to side, when Simon and I both thought it would go up and down.  Adam has had no pain. And, as we were told it might, the area is swollen and filled with fluid, which should be reducing in the next day or two.  It is, almost, like the lump is still there.

This worries me a bit, of course.  But I’ll see what its like on Monday.

Adam has a follow up with Mr Dick in 3 months, on 30th September.  But, so far as we know, The Saga of The Lump is over.

Almost a year to the day it began…