My Greatest Fear

I can’t link to it, because of The Times paywall, but Melanie Reid’s Spinal Column in today’s Times Magazine really hit home.

Her bio from the magazine says “Times columnist Melanie Reid broker her neck and back last year. Now back home after 12 months’ rehab in hospital, this week she reflects on her changing role as wife and mother.”

She currently can’t walk and can barely use her arms. She is trying very hard to walk again. But the thing that frustrates her the most? The loss of her hands. She says “I can cope with being in a wheelchair; what cripples me is my numb, clawed fingers.”

Oh yes. That is what scares me. That the arthritis in my hands will become so bad that I won’t be able to use them. Won’t be able to type or write or, some day, drive again.

Melanie’s son is in University, but she still laments that she can’t help him as she used to. He rings, during exams, looking for help with a headache and a lack of food. And instead of being able to jump in her car and bring him migraleave and some food, she talks to him on the phone.

My son still needs nappies changed and picking up and helping with getting dressed. Some of those things will pass soon, but some will go on for years yet. What if my hands stop me from doing them? I already can’t play with him as much as I would like as I can’t sit on the floor for long because of my legs. How much more will I have to hand over to someone else if I lose my hands as well?

I already get frustrated with opening packets, jars, sometimes even the milk jug as my fingers refused to grip them hard enough to turn. I have items that help, rubber mats and things, but sometimes stubborn me would rather keep trying, to deny that I can’t do it, then spend the minute to dig them out of their drawer.

And, of course, I have Simon. Who always comes right to me if I say ‘Can you open the milk, my hands are quite bad today.’ But I hate having to ask.

And, let’s not forget, I am a graphic artist. Yes, I use a mouse not a pen and paper, but what if I lose even that ability? Terry Pratchett, world famous Disc World author, turned to voice recognition software when he began to show signs of Alzheimer’s disease, including some neurological issues with his hands. I don’t think the same would work for a graphics. How to you speak your graphic thoughts out loud?

So it worries me. The possible loss of my hands.

But, like so many things in my life, there is nothing I can do about it. If they stop working, I’ll cope. I’ll cope as I always do.

But I’ll hate every minute of it.

Random Thoughts From City Centre

Tour guide saying ‘Belfast is a town of religious balance’ is the ultimate in irony as half of city centre closes for a bomb alert.

Oh, you poor dear. Your son is adorable but just because my son is nearly 2 does not mean he sleeps through all the time. Enjoy your 8 week old. And don’t worry about him grizzling. My two year old screamed through most of Tesco today.

The choice was between 2 bottles for £5 and a bottle for £4.99 that said the vineyard was started by the Knights Templar. Knights Templar bottle won, hands down.

No chocolate tarts available yet at Spring Continental Market. Chocolate Belgian Waffles acquired instead.

Speaking of which, I swear they were 3 for something last year, like £2 each or 3 for £5. Now they are either £2 or £3 each. Yes, we have 2 providers of Belgian Waffles in Chocolate this year. And 2 ice cream stalls. Oh and a candy floss stall.

Adam’s screaming fit was due to Castle Court not being open so he couldn’t go to the play area and/or ride the lift. How do you explain bomb threats and security alerts to a 2 year old?

There was an H&W ship called Traffic?!?

I Am In A Mood

There are several things I don’t normally discuss; politics, religion and feminism being the top 3.

But I am 100% tired of people using feminism as an excuse to hate men or sex or the sexualization of women or whatever the hell it is this week.

Hooters has come to the UK/Europe. And people are appalled. Those poor, downtrodden women, showing their boobs.

Hello? Is someone forcing them to work there? Is Hooters part of the slave trade and no one knows?

Of course not.

But to the militant feminists as soon as you show some cleavage or enjoy an occasional wolf whistle you must be a sexist or anti-feminism.

I am neither.

However, I also do not want to be equal. I am a member of the superior gender and know it. I am a cis female 100% and love being such a person. Why would I want to lower myself to the level of men? (I don’t hate men, either. I love men. My husband is a man. Some day my son will be one as well.)

I like being whistled at. I like being admired.

True, I don’t wear make up all that often or anything other than jeans. But that has nothing to do with feminism and everything to do with lifestyle and choice.

Our ancestors fought for equal rights so that I can be the kind of woman I am. And so you can be the kind of woman you are.

Just like our ancestors fought for the right for us to choose not to vote.

Same thing.

So you cower in the corner and be offended by sexuality in public.

I’ll stand over here and enjoy it.

The Case of The Missing Earrings

You may have seen my Tweet a few weeks ago about some jewellery that I found on the floor in front of my bureau. There is a bit more to the story than I could share in 140 characters.

Before Christmas I was getting ready to go out with some friends for some dinner and drinks. I was looking through my jewellery box for my emerald cut diamond earrings that my mom gave me years ago. They were made out of a ring she had (the one my dad gave her, maybe? I know that diamond is coming to me some day, can’t remember if these diamonds came out of the same ring.) and are not the same size but looked very cool next to each other in one ear.

In any case, I could not find them. I looked. Simon looked. I looked again. Not there. I swore I’d go through my entire jewellery box as soon as and find them.

As is the way of the world, I never got a chance to do that. I have a small son and a company to run and looking for the earrings fell through the cracks. I remember about them just before my mom came to visit and hoped she wouldn’t ask after them!

So then one day, a month or so ago, I was sitting on the side of my bed putting my trainers on. There was a t-shirt lying on the floor in front of the bureau and as I leaned over to pick it up, it sparkled.

Lying in the t-shirt were the emerald cut diamond earrings, my gold and sapphire earrings and another pair I can’t recall at the moment.

I have no idea how any of them got there. The box is kept latched and there is no way Adam could haven’t gotten into it, even if he could reach it.

One of lives great mysteries. But at least I found my diamonds!!

To Harness or Not to Harness

This issue is debated almost as much as breast versus bottle and SAH versus WOH.

When walking down the street, my son wears a harness. He is a small boy. He’s not very street savvy. We live in the middle of the city. He doesn’t like to hold hands.

Therefore, he wears a harness.

Do I get looks? Yes.

Do I care? No.

This is one of those issues that makes me question humanity at times. Dogs need to be on leashes. In fact, in a lot of places no leash equals a fine. So why is your dog, who is not very street savvy and won’t hold hands, more precious than my son?

Also, I’m not very tall, but I am taller than Adam. How uncomfortable it must be to be more or less pulled along by an arm that is over your head. Imagine doing that yourself. No chance to explore or stop for a second to look at that interesting bug over there before running to catch up.

Adam has perfect freedom within the length of his harness lead.

He loves it.

And so do I.

Trying To Find My Mojo

So I went to a seminar on Thursday about Online Marketing. I mostly went to support my friend Cathie, who owns and operates Pulse Online Productions. She and I used to work together at The Northern Ireland Science Park. We’ve both moved on now and started our own companies but we keep in touch.

I was only marginally interested in the topic as I haven’t really been marketing Designed To A Tee due to lack of time and because I thought I was going to have another client soon. But I went.

And I loved it. I loved being in a room with people who are interested in some of the same things I am. I met a few interesting people. And I got some ideas for increasing the marketing for DTAT.

One idea was a DTAT Twitter. You can follow that @DTATTweets. I am also going to be launching another blog, to talk about design, digital media and things like that.

So watch this space. Big things are coming.

Time to get my mojo back.

I Was Going To Do A Whole Entry About

Bin Laden’s death but then decided my blood pressure couldn’t take it. Suffice it to say I think it was a bad move.

In other, closer to home, news…with the exception of last night when he was ill, Adam has slept in his own bed since last Wednesday night! Simon and I just decided it was time. And we were right.

Adam’s illness has been very odd. Threw up Monday night, woke up with a fever Tuesday morning that kept going up despite calpol/nurophen, finally spiking at 103.8, when I called the GP, who had us come up.  His ear is red and his throat was *very* red so he has antibiotics. By the time we got home from the GP, his fever was gone. He went to bed as usual, in his room.  I was settling myself in bed when I heard him wake up and cough, so I went in to him. He was very hot and couldn’t re-settle so I had him on his changing table to  check his temp again when he gagged. I grabbed the vomit bowl just.In.Time!

So we settled him with me. About 30 minutes later he spit up and threw up in my bed, but only hitting one pillow and the bottom sheet. And his PJs. So got him cleaned up and resettled, gave him some Diorlyte, took him back to bed, he crashed.

2am back awake. More dirolyte and then back to sleep by 3. He slept until 8ish and woke up with no fever, no vomiting and has been himself all day.

Weirdest 24 hour bug I’ve ever seen!

Today I Had My First Ever Full Body Massage

It was a Christmas gift from my parents in law.

I was apprehensive because I have a hard time with back massages. I find people touching my back, unless I know them very well, annoying and I have never had a back massage that I enjoyed. Now, none of those were by professionals, so I gamely went on (to my favourite spa) to have it done.

I also find it hard to relax, even though the atmosphere at the spa is well set up for that, whenever I go for a treatment. Quiet to me means time to think and I have a hard time shutting my brain off. I start to write my blog entry, I think about work I need to do, wonder what Adam is up to. This time was no different.

I also had a hard time when lying on my stomach, breathing through the head rest thing. I almost never lie on my stomach  because I always feel like I can’t breathe, so it took me a few minutes to get through that.

The massage itself was, I guess, good. I have nothing to compare it to, obviously. But I still didn’t like how it felt on my back. I just don’t like it when people mess with my back. I loved the leg/foot/arm/hand part. And the scalp part was really weird since I’m used to having that done when my hair is wet! It was like my hair was crackling under her fingers!

Also this afternoon once at home I am stiffer than I have been in awhile.

So I am thinking massage is not for me.

Next time I’ll have a facial!

Simon and I agree

Less leftover cheese after it’s grated for quesadillas is a small price to pay for such a lovely little man in our lives!

It used to be that I’d grate the cheese and then give Simon a big hunk of leftovers. Now he and Adam split the big hunk and get a small hunk each.

We realized this when Simon was on the phone when I was handing out said cheese.

Simon came back into the kitchen and said, ‘Is this for me?’ pointing to the hunk on the cutting board.

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Adam already has his.’

And then I continued ‘You used to get more, before there was Adam.’ with a big grin.

Simon grinned back and said ‘I was just thinking that.’

Subtext – glad to have less cheese and an Adam!