I had a mini meltdown of sorts the other night. Of course it wasn’t really a meltdown in the true sense of the word but since I have a flair for the dramatic we’ll call it that and all because I went to the opticians.

Dramatic right.

Since baby no.4 was born I have been having terrible headaches and as a none headache person I felt they were particularly bad. If I woke up with one you can bet it wouldn’t cease to ache until bed.

Along with the headaches I began to get a slight blurring and seeing bits of dust in my peripheral vision – I have come to learn they are called ‘Floaters’ (an unfortunate name that makes me giggle every time I hear it) and actually quite common.

I reported this to my local ‘eye doctor’ (if I was an American) and they got me an emergency appointment.

After an hour of tests which involved placing my chin on one of those little chin balancing bars and slapping my forehead against cold metal machines, they concluded that I was loosing some of the gel at the back of my eyes. Nothing that serious, but if it continues it could detach my retina. (Worse case scenario)

She showed me the scan of the back of my eyes and I hate to report that although I gave all the right head nods and ‘yeahs’ I had no clue what I was looking. She even went on to say it could well have been all the laborious baby pushing that made my eye-gel (stuff) pull away. Ain’t that typical. So it’s not just my tummy and my ‘Doris Day’ that’s been annihilated but my eyes too!!

The opticians (’cause I’m British) said they would monitor it but not before putting some crazy acid in my eyes that enlarged my pupils and made me look like a crack-head.

Back home and unable to see clearly, drive or operate heavy machinery, I got upset. And by upset I mean my chin did that weird downwards smile thing like it was trying not to wobble with the impending tears. Why is something else now wrong with me?? Sure there’s a lot technically wrong with me but now I have a second medical reason written in my history!

This got me thinking about my kidney transplant that is, this year, nine years old. It is a ticking time bomb that could go at any point and that made me cry and then I cried some more that I even had juice left in my eyes to cry. Who knew our eyes bobbed about in gel? I didn’t.

Lord keep me where the light is…or at least keep it light so I can still see.

(There’s your drama !! 😉 )

My life in bags

I got a Morrison’s delivery the other day. It happened to be on a day when my mother in law offered to have both girls. So you can imagine what I did. Yep, went back to bed.

Once the school run was complete and I had delivered the precious cargo to grandma’s I changed back into my nightie, drew the curtains and snuck back under the duvet. I set my alarm to the allotted Morrison’s slot and slipped into a peaceful coma.

When my time was done I got up and pottered around the house making a list of all the jobs to do but refusing to do any as this was my – ‘day off from life’ – day. Sometimes we need these days if we’re gonna be able to face all the other days that come along.

The Morrison’s man arrived. He began to unload my shopping bags. Litres of milk, bags full of bread, two different sizes of nappies, baby formula, cat food and sanitary towels.

When passing me the last bag with his twenty something, tattooed arms I swear I caught a look sympathy coming from his beard clad face. He gave me a muted smile and bowed his head as he walked away. I sent my thanks with him and closed the door on the many bags filling the corridor.

On my way to the kitchen I caught myself in the mirror and gasped. I was wearing my pink dressing gown with one fluffy bed sock up to my knee and the other down around my ankle. My hair was flat on one side of my head but standing on end on the other like it had endured a violent electric shock. My smudged glasses only slightly covering the eccentric eyebrows and crusted eyes. Wow.

Now I know why I got the look of sympathy from the twenty something or was it the contents of my shopping bags that made him nod at me like a convict on death row?

I had to laugh. I usually don’t care what I look like to other people as behind every person is a story we just don’t know, so why judge? Yet this tot had just seen the contents of my weekly shop and that told a story that made his buttocks clench. Two lots of nappies, a trolley load of food (and some for the cat) and a two for one bumper pack of sanitary towels that along with the wrecked appearance of a woman who gave birth to her fourth three months ago. I’m not more surprised he didn’t say goodbye with a sign of the cross.


I love that in a world of uncertainty you can absolutely be certain that when you mix butter, flour, sugar and eggs together you will have made a cake. Even if you used questionable sugar from the back of the cupboard, you can still wash it down with a giant mug of tea and life is sweet again. I only ever have this same experience with gin.

You can’t be certain, for example that since your now three month old slept through her first night that she will continue this way. In fact so blissful were the two days sleep post second round of injections you almost, almost – minus the pain experienced for the little mite – wish they would give them injections every week. I know the terrible thoughts of a mother award goes to…me! But man for a 36 hour period there life was good.

The baby does okay, I’m probably being way to hard on her. It’s not her fault that her three older siblings sleep through the night every night and since her arrival we have been desperately pleading by her cot for the same thing to happen to her. The one night she did sleep from 11pm to 7am I didn’t sleep for fear she wasn’t actually sleeping but was in fact dead. I know more awards for me.

Since moving into the 12 week bracket a veil has been lifted. The baby bubble has been popped and we find ourselves amongst the debris still standing and not just surviving with our addition but thriving. Baby smiles, coo’s and interacts with me. She actually seems to like me which is always a win if you’re gonna spend a prolonged period of time with someone.

Time will inevitably move on and she will soon sleep through the night, as will I and as one genius wrote; ‘the days are long but the years are short’ so enjoy them.

( I added that last really important bit )