I'm not even going to try and remember who has access to them, so if you come a cropper logging in just email me for the new details.
]]>82% say it's a girl, 18% a boy, and funnily enough only I think it could be a puppy. Results coming soon...
]]>Then other things just click.
"Where's Mummy's car?"Spot on! And show him a picture of a Qashqai, in any colour, and it's Mummy's new car. Only once has he been told all of this, so how come it takes a count of three and a threat of bed (followed through twice this week) for being told to come and take his shoes and jacket off when we get home?
"Mummy's car gone. New one coming, Mummy's new car black"
We just can't afford a new Nissan every time we need him to register with something!
School year: No longer will number 2 start school in 2014, the cut-off passed a few days ago. Will now be a 2015 starter for certain.
Birthday: As her birthday looms, will she be x or will she be x+1? Well, that now x+1 too.
x: Random number between old and really old.
]]>Anyway, more details to follow when our new Sunderland built truck actually exists in a form more substantial than the few pieces of paper in which it currently does.
It's MOTS' last day at work today, so good luck to her trying to avoid blubbering too much over lunch. As we discussed this morning - when I say "discussed" I mean me pointing it out and MOTS trying everyting to avoid accepting my proposition - today marks the last major event before number 2 arrives. So, if you haven't voted yet, DO IT NOW before MOTS is officially full term (on Friday).
]]>All this asking and visiting took its tool, and he was rather tired. So when we did the bedtime routine out of normal order and came downstairs for saying goodnight I thought we were in for a rough time to get him to bed. Saying goodnight to each in turn, parents and Wrinklies were all sat down, with boy wonder going to each. And with a final "bedtime" off he went, opening the lounge door, going upstairs, into bed and snuggling down on his own.
OK, what's wrong? Like they say on BBC's "The Real Hustle", "If it looks too good to be true, it probably is". Suspecting a scam I went upstairs to investigate. I was met with a level of hostility - there, in his bed, was the wee fella. Reading light on, sat with a book. Turning, he pointed to me and shouted "Stay there!". And with a request to leave him alone, I closed the door again and returned downstairs to "In It to Win It".
]]>Oh, and the man himself, Adventure Ted!
The brief was simple. Take Adventure Ted all weekend, make him feel special, and he likes going out for a walk too. So take him out for a walk, talk about the environment (ie where you are rather than the amount of CO2 the average Range Rover Sport pumps out in contrast to how badly the brakes work on the Toyota Prius), draw something about your walk, pick something up from the walk, talk about the walk back at school. Fantastic, easy peasy.
With so much outdoors stuff to do nearby we decided on boats, and lots of them. We picked something up. We drew boats when we got home. MOTS filled the form out. And on Monday morning Adventure Ted went to nursery.
And on Monday night, Adventure Ted was still at nursery. Oops. Never mind, he can go in tomorrow. Only he forgot again. He wasn't there on Wednesday night, so a success at last.
Thursday, and MOTS gets to go to school. No sign of Adventure Ted at drop-off time, the teacher is worrying for his safety and is about to scramble the RAF on a search mission. Perhaps he's in the old classroom? Then, at pick-up, it's confirmed - Adventure Ted is AWOL. MOTS has an idea, just as the second "9" is being depressed on the telephone - WAIT - let's ask. "Where's Adventure Ted?" And off went boy wonder, round the back of a sofa in the classroom, where Adventure Ted was first brought out from, and pulled him out. "Here he is".
While his homework, by the time the chat was done on Friday, was 4 days late we now fear that his future educational card is marked. Either that, or he's marked down as some sort of St Bernard, and must now wear a flask of brandy round his neck whenever he goes to school. Just like I did, but that was purely for recreational purposes!
]]>It's definitely due then, sure. Whether it arrives then is a whole other question. And this from a father of 2!
]]>That is the standard response to any question we ask of the health service. As we approach the business end of MOTS' pregnancy we're understandably nervous about the same happening again, and don't want a repeat of it. So when MOTS was asked to go and speak to the VBAC midwife I expected propaganda to be rammed down her throat.
And that is why I went along too. But, as I found out, this could not have been further from the truth.
]]> MOTS had an appointment with the obstetrician a few weeks ago, who was there to talk about an elective cut and shut, but she was trying to push MOTS down the VBAC route. A little at odds with the appointment. And in the absence of any notes (they'd gone AWOL, probably on holiday in the Highlands somewhere, after all it is skiing season) the 64 million dollar questions around what exactly happened last time couldn't be answered.Tuesday's appointment with the VBAC midwife, who you would think would push for VBAC and extol the virtues of it, was well balanced, no opinions given, told MOTS what her options were, listened to her thoughts (which she says are now back to what they were in October), told her that they seem perfectly reasonable, laughed, joked, told us the notes had shown up (along with their holiday photos, some stunning shots of Portree harbour), and was generally but totally impartial and informal. Both of us expected to go in, listen to propaganda based on the NHS trying to achieve targets, and come out with the balance skewed more heavily in favour of a cut & shut. The balance was tipped, true. But the other way. And not based on the virtues, but what we wanted to hear - cold hard facts, likelihoods and possible outcomes. What I think helped MOTS' case was that MOTS got to explain what she wanted from the session, she came across as having thought about the possibilities and what could happen, and what she wanted to do in each scenario. The midwife was supportive of those decisions, and offered extra advice where there would be differences to last time, such as the drip only being tried for a maximum of 4 hours, not the 24 that MOTS was on it first time. What I think helped the midwife's case was that she had read up on the notes ahead of the appointment (and didn't have them with her to refer to, it was all there in her head), knew the score and treated MOTS as an individual.
Oh, and the birth plan? Why do mums fill this in? For no reason other than to get them thinking about the birth, other than that it may as well be a crossword puzzle for what use it is at the actual event. And that's from a midwife!
MOTS seems to be much happier after Tuesday, it went a lot better than could be expected. So we are at this juncture very grateful to the VBAC midwife for her time, and for the community midwife for the referral. There are still a lot of routes that will end in a section, and this is more likely this time, but it's not 100% guaranteed. MOTS is going to give it a shot, and is happier knowing that she won't get the 26 hours of drug induced labour before an emergency caesarean section, that it will be severely restricted. And that puts me at ease too, I don't want to see her go through all that again and end up physically and emotionally drained going into theatre, as this has shown she won't get that far in any scenario.
The surreal part of the morning was going through the labour suite and MOTS not recognising the place. She didn't remember which room she was in, or the theatre, or the lift. I pointed each out to her, even the unmarked room I was ushered into to gown up in. The only bit that seemed different to me was walking down the corridor from maternity to the main drag of the hospital. And only then because I wasn't half asleep with no shoes on!
]]>So what about some of those boxes that need to be ticked? What are they? Let's look at some of them shall we?
All of this was relevant the first time round, and by now all but the name was in a tick status, or very much in hand. This time there are additional worries. We can look back to August 2006 and see when things kicked off. That was a really unpleasant hour to be driving through to hospital then, even without a young one in tow. This time, there's another one to worry about. It's all well and good having offers of help, but all of this is from friends who also work. So to actually inflict a very lively 3 year old on someone who has to leave to go to work is something very different to having the offers there. And then there's the unfamiliar territory, which he's fine with apart from the enthusiastic exploring - so he'll be a handful to say the least.
We have a weekday daytime plan, we sort of have a weekend plan, and we need to have a serious think about the gaps. If these gaps do get plugged, one thing is certain: I won't be spending much time at the hospital. MOTS has indicated this is not necessarily a bad thing (she did mean it in a positive way, not that she can't stand the thought of me being there - or so I hope), so it my work out OK. But it's that deadline that isn't a deadline that's a real problem. With what is effectively a four week window that's a long time to be on standby, never mind having anyone else on standby for us. I guess this is one downside to not being part of a big Catholic family with numerous brothers and sisters living on the next street. The upside is that we don't have numerous brothers and sisters living on the next street. A double-edged sword if ever there was one.
So here’s hoping for it to start around 07:00 on a Monday morning, time to drop number 1 off at nursery as normal, head through to hospital, home by the tea time pickup. The only preparation that is needed then is to feed the pigs and line them up on the runway ready for take-off.
Hospital bag has been started, bottles are in the dishwasher, steriliser is out of the box, car seat is altogether in the garage, and she's sweeping the kitchen floor. 9 weeks to go and she's nesting!
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