Thursday, 23 February 2017

The One That I Promised Would Be Positive (35 months + 12 days)

I promised you a positive post. Here goes:

I got 94% and 99% in my Semester 1 exams.

And thus concludes the positive post, because guess what? IT'S ALL DOWNHILL AND DEPRESSING FROM HERE! (Seriously, stop reading unless you want to be a soggy weeping mess like me- to anyone who just saw a sobbing girl running at 93mph in puregym- hi! That's me! I'm here! 

Yesterday Piglet had her eye appointment. Which was fine, and I could discuss in detail but I don't want to because the only thing that I've come away from that with is the information that she has a "pale optic nerve". Now. Apparently this could be totally fine. It could just be a paler shade within the normal spectrum. Alternatively it could mean her optic nerve is dying and she's going blind. Either way, they're just going to review it in six months because HEY HO THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE SAYS TO US. IT'S NOT LIKE I'M GOING TO BE STRESSING ABOUT IT OR ANYTHING RIGHT? BECAUSE THAT'S DEFINITELY SOMETHING THAT CAN JUST BE TREATED LIKE A RASH ISN'T IT?

The health visitor came round today because nursery had called her about Piglet's speech. She said we could either go to a speech therapist or we could get her referred to a pediatrician just to "rule anything out" because she has got "quite a few things going on and they could be connected". I said sure, yeah we can do that- not really getting it at first to be honest. It was only halfway through the 19 page question form that I realised what was being hinted at:

Does she have a lot of repetitive behaviours?

Does she react to you when you're upset?

Does she get extremely upset if her routine is disrupted?

They think she's autistic. Nursery think my baby is autistic. But she can't be autistic, right? She has friends. She interacts with them. She interacts with me!

The health visitor kept saying things that I imagine were supposed to be positive but instead just sounded patronising and limiting: "if there is something wrong, the pediatrician can put things in place to help her reach her full potential"; "she's made really good progress since I was last here"; "she's managing to cope very well".

What the fuck man.

I just can't right now. I don't even know what it would mean if she was autistic. Will she be ok? Will she be able to live a normal life? Will she be able to tell me she loves me? Will she ever talk properly? 

Again, the appointment with the pediatrician can take up to six months to come through.

Six. Fucking. Months. 

Fuck this shit man.This isn't right. 

Wednesday, 22 February 2017

The One With The Facial Swelling Where "I Bought A Book About That" (35 months + 10 days)

I'm going to kick this one off with a request: it's my birthday in six weeks- could somebody buy me some time, please? (Also a maltipoo- I really, really, really would like a maltipoo. Please. I cannot afford to buy a maltipoo myself. I cannot justify spending all that money on a dog. So please. Pretty please. Please. Please baby Jesus, please).

Fun fact number 1: Piglet goes to nursery. What? Oh, you know this already? Of course you do.

Fun fact number 2: I wrote a massive huge long blog about how much I loved Piglet's nursery and how it was perfect for us and not a Fascist Child Structuring Brainwashing Camp like the other nursery that we went to view. Yes, yes, you know this also...

Fun fact number 3: Piglet's nursery does "developmental reports". 

Developmental reports. For a two year old. DEVELOPMENTAL REPORTS. FOR. A. TWO YEAR OLD. 

I'm guessing you can already tell from my tone that I was not happy with Piglet's "developmental report". I'm guessing that you can already tell that I think- to put it politely- that it is all a pile of shit (sorry Nana- but it was).

I had a parents evening to discuss Piglet's developmental report. Although it was actually a parents morning because they wanted to "discuss everything in more detail but there was absolutely nothing to be concerned about". I took NNB with me (still playing couples at nursery. I am getting sick of pretend coupling at the moment. But I will discuss this more later else I risk getting side-tracked from Rant Numero Uno). Normal "parents evening" appointments were for 15 minutes. I spent 90 minutes sobbing in a toddlers cloakroom. Yes. 90 minutes. Whilst my child was- in a very, very nice way- pulled apart. Whilst- although my parenting was absolutely fine- my parenting was not fine. Whilst Piglet was totally, completely fine- but not fine. According to their things. Their stupid bullshit things.

 Let me enlighten you with several choice points.

The first one is obviously her speech. Her speech has improved in comparison to how it was. She can say more words than I can count, when she chooses to, and she will say short sentences ("Look mummy, moon"). I also know full well that she understands absolutely everything I say to her. Is her speech perfect? No. Do you have to decipher it at times? Yes. But- is she two? YES. Is she as fluent as some of the other children they have at nursery? No. But aren't we, as parents, constantly told that they develop at different rates and not to worry? YES. 

Nursery have said she needs speech therapy. I am not averse to speech therapy. However- as I pointed out to them- I have bought a book on speech therapy for toddlers, as I fail to see what a speech therapist could do that I couldn't. Also, being perfectly honest, I have an incredibly hectic schedule; it works far better for me if I am able to aid Piglet at home, at times when I know I am free as opposed to having to rearrange the 367 different areas of my life to revolve around hospital visits for speech therapy. Furthermore- who the hell says she even DOES need speech therapy? I was telling a girl at work about this, and she said that she didn't talk until she was 4 or 5. She says she was a really late talker. And she's fine. So....could it not just be that? The health visitor is coming round on Thursday to discuss it anyway. I really like my health visitor though. So I might just moan to her. And ask her what I can do. (My health visitor gets me- I really, really like her). 

They also put her comprehension as "emerging". As I've just said, she understands everything. Everything. Do you know what their justification for this label was? "Sometimes when we ask her to do things, she won't follow the instruction if she doesn't want to do it".

IS THAT NOT JUST BEING A PERSON?! THAT JUST MEANS SHE IS DEFYING YOU, IT DOESN'T MEAN SHE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!!!!!!!!!!!

They said they didn't think she was ready for potty training because she doesn't understand. Do you know what she did that evening? She asked to put her pants on, and then she went and sat on the toilet and did a wee. And the day after, she did a poo on the toilet. SO SCREW YOU NURSERY. SCREW YOUR FACES. (We are taking a relaxed approach to potty training currently- if she wants to use the toilet that is cool; if she doesn't that is also cool. I'm letting her lead me. My parenting is FINE. Also, I bought a book on potty training- I also told nursery about this book aswell- and it says I can do it in a week. So. Basically, I'm just trying to work out the best week to do it).

Oh wait, get this one- they said she copies other children which is concerning. 

...I'm sorry, what?

Children....copy? 

Shit, really?!

Whatever man. Whatever. I'm fine about the whole thing. Totally fine. SO chill, (I am not chill at all, I even googled foetal alcohol syndrome in case the fact that I drank before I knew I was pregnant could have any effect on her speech. To summarise: no Bones, it can't. You are overreacting).

She loves nursery though. And it is a really nice nursery. It was just.... well, it's never nice to hear anyone say there are concerns about your child. She's the star of football though, so she can just be a footballer. Footballers don't need to speak. In fact, it's probably better if footballers don't speak, so that works perfectly.

In other news, this happened:

Can you see my big fat massive face? This is actually after I'd started antibiotics. I have a wisdom tooth coming through and it got infected. It was wonderful. Really, the most enjoyable experience of my life. Ever. (Dentist was v. attractive though, so that was a bonus. Or not, depending on which way you look at it...). I have been flying off my face on all the painkillers I can legally acquire. This has meant that I have been falling asleep every 5 minutes because I don't do so well on drugs. But it is all fine again now. I finished antibiotics yesterday, and my face is once again semi-symmetrical. 

Piglet and I had a lovely day together at the weekend exploring outside. Here are pictures, (seriously, I should do PR for Sunderland- look how pretty everything looks):






















(Please don't ask why she is carrying a pink umbrella around with her; she refused to leave the house without it. I don't know why she was so attached to it, I just went along with it). 

We went and saw the hospital people about her feet a couple of weeks ago. She had to have x-rays taken. Seriously traumatic. Nothing like having to pin your baby down whilst they're screaming to scar you for life. The consultant said her hips are fine, she's just got really flexible joints. He thinks her foot will correct itself as she gets older so he's just going to see her again in six months. 

I'm going to finish off with what will hopefully be my last moan for a very long time. NNB has got a new job at a school in North Shields which he will start in September. This is wonderful for NNB. Well done, big clap, you're great. However, I am not the only one who plays the "this is my partner" game. NNB told the current school that he works at that he was looking for a different job because "his partner" (this is supposed to be me in the fake world) is doing their masters at Newcastle so he wants to be based closer to there. NNB is now looking at moving. To North Shields. Or Gateshead. Or somewhere else that's nowhere near Piglet and I. 

1) I'm not your partner and it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to tell your employer that I am. Telling nursery that you're my partner makes sense otherwise they're just going to be like who's this weird beardy man?

2) North Shields is not Newcastle. North Shields is not Sunderland. North Shields is nowhere near me in any fashion.

3) NNB dear, why do you look so shocked when I inform you that I'm not moving because I like where I live, and cannot afford to move whilst I am paying £3000+ a year for a masters?

4) NNB SWEETPEA, why do you look even MORE shocked when I tell you there is no way that I am moving Piglet's nursery because she's only just settling in there and I want her to have some level of consistency in life currently, as part of me is concerned that is what has delayed her speech? (more paranoia, I know, I know). 

5) NNB DARLING DON'T YOU THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE DISCUSSED THESE THINGS WITH ME PRIOR TO JUST GOING AND DOING THEM?

I am trying to be happy for NNB, but...I'm not doing too great at it. He was talking about doing that stupid NCS thing where he's away all Summer again and I'm like, I need to work? Can we not discuss this? Summer is my time to get money together so I don't have to kill myself during uni? I've even got work to give me a set shift pattern to limit the amount of time he has to watch Piglet. So he has her on Sundays. The rest of the time she is with me. And now he won't even be able to do that. I feel like I try to accommodate him, and it's all about him. I think he has been very selfish, and used ME as the excuse for being selfish when in actual fact it is not helpful to me at all. You're going to ask if I've tried to discuss this aren't you? I did. I told him he was selfish. He said he was going to pretend I hadn't said that, and then attempted to act as though everything was normal. I really can't be bothered to play fake couples anymore. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe I just don't care. 

Do you know what? 

I feel SO much better now. 

BIG LOVE GUYS XXXXXX (don't talk to boys, boys are crap, girls for life xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox) 

p.s. I promise to be less super moody bitch next time hopefully fingers crossed xxxxx

p.p.s. I have fallen in love with my chemotherapy lecturer so maybe I'll write an entire post about her- that one DEFINITELY has to be positive. 

p.p.p.s I COULD have ranted about the fact that Mr Dickhead is once again behind on his child maintenance payments but is pretending to them that he's paid but I'm not going to because I am so chill.

p.p.p.p.s The personification of chill

p.p.p.p.p.s Might start referring to myself at "The Chill" because that's how chill I am right now about all life. 

Chill. 

Monday, 6 February 2017

The One With Marathon Prep (34 months + 26 days)

I'm about to get controversial. I can feel that I'm about to get controversial. I'm in dire need of a huge ranty outburst about some social indignation that relates to me in some manner, but I'm just not quite at boiling point yet. Does that make sense? I can't even really summarise to you what I feel the need to get on my soap box about right now (although that may be due to the summary aspect as opposed to the topic itself), I just know that I need to get it all down on paper (ha, ha, ha, or screen?) asap or my brain is going to explode.

That being said, right now I had an 8 mile training run today (#Londonround2), have just been asleep for 3 hours, have a Chemo assignment I need to start, notes to make on several chapters for Organic Synthesis before Thursday, and potentially sleep before work tomorrow. So, it is likely that right now is not the best time to unleash the psychopath within...

It is unlikely that between uni and work I am going to have time to get my crazy on prior to Thursday/Friday. So, prepare yourselves for a marathon of a post from crazy, crazy, moany, ranty, early edition Bones before she tried to pretend she was a normal functioning member of society.

In the meantime: we have a Facebook page- give us a like?

BIG LOVE

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

The One With AAAAALLLLLLLL The Pictures (34 months + 7 days)

Ok, so AS PROMISED here are two million and nine photos from when Piggly and I went exploring at the weekend. We had planned (by we, I obviously mean I) to look round more things but we'd been up v. v. v. early (2am....) revising/causing chaos (Piglet drew on my new copy of Animal Farm. I had bought it less than 24 hours before), and needed to be back in time for afternoon naps:

5am: REVISING LIKE BOSSES


9am: Cheeky breakfast (breakfast is the best meal of the day, eggs for days xxxxxxx also I have no idea what has happened to my face here, I swear I have a normal shaped head)


11am: Post-metro arrival at Cullercoats/ Aquarium visit (look how pretty it is I am 2000000% going to live here)


Turtle that was surprisingly speedy for the camera:


Silver fish which may or may not be dead:


Starfish ("Mummy, look! Star!")


Bloody petrifying flat fish:


Piglet examining the bloody petrifying flat fish:


Is this real or is this fake I have no idea:


Aquarium selfie (p.s. I'm not ill, I had just ran out of fake tan. FEAR NOT I HAVE ACQUIRED SOME MORE!):


Anemonemonomenamenes:


Gross worm fish:


More anemonemonomenamenes:


What I can only guess is a starfish being eaten by an anemonemonomenamene:


Otters ("Mummy, look! Cats!"):


Nemo:


Degus......(yes. In the aquarium. I don't know don't ask me why giant hamsters are in an aquarium)


"Awh, mummy, hamsters!"


V. dodgy pic of sealions (was so bloody cold outside absolutely no way we were staying out there longer than was necessary)


The most disgusting fish in the entire world:


Monkeys.... ("Awh, cats, mummy, cats!")


Tunnel of fish:


Wiggle:





*Insert attempt at afternoon nap here*

Make-up artist:


#Stunning


I took Wiggles to this aquarium because I was told a hilarious story by someone at work that involved a fish jumping out of one of the tanks and this was something I had to witness for myself. Unfortunately, (or actually maybe fortunately- I'm not too keen on fish to be honest) all fish remained in their tanks and did not make any attempts at escaping whilst we were there.

In other unrelated pictures, here are Walter and Adelaide shockingly getting along:


Piglet having the most amazing bed hair in the world:


I had my first exam yesterday and it was quite possibly the most lovely exam I ever had (except for that maths GCSE one where I got 100%- I don't think I'll ever top that one). Also got another assignment back and had got full marks because I AM A BOSS AT TOXICOLOGY (I'm so sorry, I've booked time off work for exams so I have nobody to boast to about my achievements). I'm looking at starting a facebook page related to the blog to post mini updates (such as Piglet pressing the emergency alarm on the metro- definitely a top 10 embarrassing moment right there) but it's currently a work in progress, so I will let you all know when it's done.

BIG LOVE AND KISSES AND BRAINS XXXXXXXXX (not in a gross sense- in a metaphorical sense, obviously)