Tuesday, 25 February 2014

The One With The Psychic..

For the sake of this post, lets call the psychic John Smith.

Last night, I went to see a medium/psychic. The last time I had heard of John was the day that Princess was born. My Mum and Aunty had gone to a reading with him before coming to see me at the hospital. (I will add by the way my family had already been to see me once that day - they didn't blow me off in favour of a reading!)

When my Mum arrived at the hospital, she told me what he had said. My Grandma had died before Princess was born and it still fills me with huge sadness that she never got to meet her. Apparently, this psychic said to my Mum upon meeting her for the first time in his life: "Your Mum said, tell your daughter she is beautiful and congratulations." This man did not know my Mum, did not know that her daughter had just given birth just 12 hours previously, and didn't even know that my Mum had lost her own Mother only 6 months prior. He also picked up on the name Amelia which is what I had planned on calling Princess originally.

Now it's needless to say, my hopes were high. I miss my Grandma so much, I was hoping for a little piece of anything. A little sign that she had been watching over me or Princess.

I went in to the room with sweaty palms, shaking hands and a pounding heartbeat.

John Smith was not what I expected. He sat at the table, phone by his side, an earring in his right ear and soft blue eyes. He was blunt and straight to the point. He told me he didn't "fuck about". He wasn't going to lie to me and he would tell me straight up what he was hearing about me. He didn't predict the future as such, just what he could see happening within the next 12months.

One of the first things he guessed is that Princess has recently been diagnosed with asthma. Straight away he knew that. He also told me she would be fine.

After that, it all seemed to go a little downhill. He told me my Grandma was with him and that she was telling him that "I was highly strung, high maintenance and needed to tone it down a bit." If I could believe it, I would have. Except that the one thing my Grandma always said about me was "I was so laid back, I may as well be lying down." She admired me for my coolness, my ability to stay calm and the fact that I didn't let much bother me. As soon as he said those words, I knew it wasn't true.

He also told me that I had found a good man in Ross. He didn't see marriage happening any time soon, which was more to do with me than it was with him. He said that Ross would never cheat on me. Those bits I believe. I wasn't astounded, any person could say that just to make someone feel better, but I do truly believe that. Things were looking up.

Until he said that I was far too hard on Ross and I needed to lay off him a bit. I know a lot of women like this, and don't get me wrong, I am far from perfect.. but that part was so wrong it was almost laughable. I don't do confrontation. Even if I'm seething with anger, I don't confront people and I am not argumentative. It's not often I ask Ross to do anything. I am a perfectionist and like things done my way, so I do them myself without fuss. He leads a fairly easy life in those terms. I don't stop him from doing anything and it's very rare we even argue.

I left the room feeling quite disappointed.

Nothing that he had told me wasn't something I hadn't already mentioned. He summarised that Ross and I argue but all couples do, it was nothing to worry about. Things were looking up on the job front for Ross, he is going to find work soon. Princess's asthma is fine and nothing to worry about. My Great Grandad is really poorly but he's not going anywhere any time soon. I may have a baby within the next 12 months. I suffer anxiety but my depression is thankfully under control. We want to move house but money won't allow us to,and he doesn't see it in the next 12 months. I have no health issues. I am a high maintenance bitch and I need to stop it.

None of this stuff is news to me. Also quite a chunk of it untrue. And the majority of it he told me after he'd already asked me.

Oh.. he also asked if I'd had a miscarriage or if anyone I knew had recently had one. I wasn't sure if maybe he had gotten this mixed up with the cyst on my ovary, but that's a pretty big mix up.

Overall, I wasn't impressed. I wouldn't pay money to see him again. He was a lovely bloke, very reassuring and calming as he told me I was a horrible cow and I was lucky Ross put up with my shit.. but in the end I felt deflated and like he was a bit of a fraud.

Everyone else seemed quite impressed with their reading and I feel guilty that I've put doubt in to some of their minds. He'd been a lot more accurate and specific with everyone else, I'm left with the feeling I'm quite hard to read. He spent a lot of time looking at me like he was confused or trying to gouge information from my eyes. Obviously, it didn't happen and he's not a mind reader.

I would still go to see a psychic again.. but I wouldn't get my hopes up. After I'd got home and gone over everything he had said, I ended up feeling quite upset. I felt like a horrible person and was left wondering why the people I loved the most that had passed away hadn't been mentioned. I know this wasn't his fault.. how was he to know that my Grandma was the most important person in my life for many years and that Ross's Mum had recently passed away? Neither of those subjects came up and I found I'd been hoping they had.

I feel like John Smith is a bit of a fraud. There is no doubt in my mind he is excellent at picking up on body language and little titbits of information.. but apart from that, I definitely didn't feel like I'd had my future predicted.

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Bedtime Is For The Weak..

Now I can't even begin to imagine how many times I have written about Princess's sleeping routine.. or lack of it. Probably at least a dozen, am I right?

Some days we think we have it cracked. Other times there is just no sense of routine at all.

But here's the catch 22. It doesn't matter how much we implement the routine.. they just don't stick. Now I know most people will blame Ross and me for that.. but it's honestly not our fault.

We can go a week or two with Princess having her bath, dinner and bed at a set time. And then out of nowhere.. it doesn't work. She won't sleep, she won't even get in to bed.

When Ross's Mum passed away, her bed time routine went straight out of the window. We stayed up at his Mums house for a week or so and Princess would be up till late with the rest of us. Even though she was up at the crack of dawn, it didn't matter. She just would not settle.

Now every thing is slowly returning to normal.. her sleep isn't. I was getting so sick of hearing "Don't worry, she'll sleep when she starts nursery!" that I almost feel like throwing this in their faces. Well over a month in at nursery, and she is still no more tired than before. If anything, she's just a lot more cranky.

Sometimes I genuinely wonder if she has ADHD. I absolutely hate the thought of tarring her with that brush, but I also know it's a very common illness in children these days.

Her lack of need for sleep is just one in a thousand other symptoms, but I also know it's very hard to diagnose in such young children. She's only 3. I know of parents who have waited years for a diagnosis and things still aren't clear for them.

For now we're coping. It's hard work being up with a toddler at 7.30am who then doesn't start to quieten down until 2am, but we don't seem to have much choice. I'm just glad that Ross is at home to stay awake until the early hours when I have work the next day. 

And the next person who suggests "why don't you get up earlier?" .. I will gladly like you to try staying up until 2-3am with a toddler and then getting up at 6am where she will continue the day full of beans until the following 2am.

You won't be saying it for much longer.

Now if you'll excuse me.. it's nearly 10pm and I have a toddler to deal with!

Thursday, 13 February 2014

New Year Woes

I very, very, very nearly titled this post "Meh!" as that is exactly how I feel about now. Although I think I would have deleted the exclamation mark eventually.. it seems too enthusiastic.

2014 hasn't particularly gotten off to the best of starts.

Don't get me wrong, nothing bad has happened per se, but it seems like nothing good has happened either. Well actually, something good DID happen this week, but I'm not allowed to tell anyone. Sshhh!

January saw Princess start nursery. She was so excited. I was excited for her. Now the rose tinted specs promising lazy afternoons, nursery rhyme singing and tales of the playground have come off, I'm left with the harsh realisation that she is no longer mine anymore. For the next 15 years, she belongs to the school and the Government. I have been naughty and allowed her a few days off here and there, but mainly they were actually because she was ill. I would much rather have that time with her now when it's only frowned upon rather than being whacked with a hefty Government fine.

Apart from that, I am actually finding the adjustment to school life very hard. Ross and Princess have slipped into it perfectly, but I've been left feeling very underwhelmed by the situation. As you all know, I am the working parent in our house. This means that I very rarely get to walk her to nursery or pick her up. That fact alone makes adapting to the situation more difficult. What I've also found is that whilst Princess is an absolute pleasure to have in the day time, she comes home from her afternoon session at nursery in a foul mood intent on being naughty. Gone are the hopes of "oh she'll be KNACKERED after she finishes nursery". No. Well, the reason for her naughtiness and attitude may well be due to tiredness.. but that still doesn't mean she sleeps or make the problem any easier.

These days I basically feel like I never get to see my daughter - and when I do, she's never happy. She has attitude in particular with me. Why? I don't know. It may be that I'm the stricter parent, but not in a way that makes me horrible. But when I say no chocolate 5 minutes before dinner, I mean it. When I tell her she'll go on the naughty step.. I mean it. Ross is a bit more lenient and will allow her to get away with more things than I do. Maybe it's because he's more laid back than I am, but either way, sometimes it really feels as if she dislikes me. A lot.

Well enough of that.. what's the point in moaning right?

WRONG. There is a point. To get it off my chest.

The end of January saw Princess being rushed in to the Doctors very ill with her chest. She'd had a cough since before Christmas that she was given antibiotics for. They didn't work, the cough came back and a few weeks ago the Doctors told us she has asthma. She's now on an inhaler twice a day and still struggling with her cough. I wish there was a way we could help her, but I suppose we just need to hope the antibiotics and the Ventolin soon start to make a difference.

On top of all of that, last week saw me take a visit to the hospital. I don't often do Doctors and hospitals.. well rarely ever actually. However, after everyones insisting that the shooting pain in my right side was probably appendicitis, I decided to give NHS Direct a call. They too confirmed it was probably my appendix and made me an appointment at the out of hours. The Doctor there, much to her dismay I might add, realised it wasn't appendicitis. It also wasn't pregnancy or a water infection - honestly, she seemed quite disappointed.

I was referred to the hospital - this was about midnight by the way - and examined lots and lots of times.

One question - WHY do hospitals insist on you seeing several different Doctors where they have to ask you the same questions every single time and all of them examine you individually? Why don't they just read the notes? When I arrive at the hospital with stomach pains, the last thing I need or want is 5 different Doctors each prodding me at different intervals. It's also impossible to produce 3 water samples within the space of an hour when you've been put on to nil-by-mouth.

I digress.. eventually after appendicitis was definitely ruled out, I was sent home with a time to pop back for a scan the next day. It was 2.30am by the time we got home and I was up for work at 7.30am, trouper that I am. We went back to the hospital the next day for my scan. I was stupid enough to think that it would just be an abdomen scan, like what they do when you're pregnant. Oh, how wrong I was.

Luckily the Doctor PJ was absolutely amazing. He was funny, charming and had me and the nurse in absolute hysterics that I almost, almost forgot I had a stick representing Harry Potters wand stuck up my hoo-ha. (And whilst I'm at it, why is it that every time I've ever had an internal or scan, it's ALWAYS male Doctors? Good thing I waved goodbye to my dignity years ago!).

When my scan was finally finished, he delivered the news we'd all been waiting for. I had a cyst on my ovary.

Not just any old cyst. Oh no. A huge, ginormous fuck off cyst that is bigger than my actual ovary. The joy.

After spending the next 6 hours in a waiting room with my fellow comrades - we were all best mates by the end of the day, cheering every time someones name was called - I was taken down to another ward where I was once again given a rather jarring internal by a slightly matter of fact Nigerian man that I couldn't understand. If I hadn't felt violated before, I definitely did after that.

I'll stop with the gross stuff now.. sorry.

Basically I was given the choice to stay in hospital and await an operation, or come home. Obviously, I came home and am now awaiting my operation date in the post. The pain is still there, it's pretty much constant, but it's manageable. I'm not in agony, just uncomfortable.

So 2014 so far has been a bit shit. We're only 6 weeks in, and already one of us is awaiting surgery. I'm feeling detached from my family and overall a little bit meh.

Hopefully things will improve and I can start to enjoy myself that little bit more.