Three Ring Circus

We phoned the paeds rooms to be told once again, in a mocking tone, that there was absolutely NO WAY that we could see him. he was booked out until September…2010! How stupid are we to think that we might actually be able to get in to see the only doctor who knows anything about Ivy?

When David (phone phobia, friends, remember?) mentioned that the dermatologist asked us to keep in close contact with the paed the receptionist snarled… "well, I think you’ve got that covered".

I have to say that when David relayed this to me, I was upset, no, I still am upset but my angry tears have stopped. For now.

I feel guilty for interrupting their more important lives with my niggly little problems…say, a child who won’t get better.

I feel hurt knowing that they think we are pains in the behind.

I feel bad for feeling those things because, really, I shouldn’t.

As David says, it shouldn’t matter what the small minded people think. It should only matter that we do what we have to do to make Ivy right. It’s true.

I can’t help feeling awful though. Like I have broken some rule that clients will not disturb their doctors. Ever.

I admit, the last few months have been full on and we have needed to call constantly for more scripts, to see what to do next, to throw ideas around. I know they are all over it. I can hear it in their voices but do they think we are having the time of our lives? Do they think we are calling just because we are lonely out here in the boonies?

I would love to ask them. I would like to know, would they not do the same for their babies? If they had a child who was chronically ill with SOMETHING that no one can adequately diagnose, wouldn’t they be worried? If their toddler cried all day long, had discharging ears, blistered bottom, a wet chest, would they not want to do ANYTHING they could to help that  little child?

I think they would.

So, why does the receptionist judge us?

Why does it hurt so much that she does?

I hate this.

It’s been a very big week in our house.

Ivy has been incredibly unwell. We went to see a dermatologist about the blistering on her bottom and were sent away with more creams, more blood tests and Ivy, who was still so sick and weak that she could no longer hold her own bottle.

We went to have the blood tests but the pathologist refused to do them because a) he couldn’t understand the doctor’s writing and b) they couldn’t do the third blood test on Fridays.

Huh? This is at our major tertiary hospital and the pathology unit can’t perform a test on Fridays because????

So we took our sick little girl home and I proceeded to break the doctor’s handwriting down. See? Being a nurse comes in handy sometimes!

He ordered

Serum zinc levels

Biotin Carboxylase levels

Essential fatty acid levels.

While this is interesting information, all it does is open the gaping wound of nurse/control freak need for medical discription and stress with the aquired reading.

In the meantime, we have been putting the creams on and encouraging the girl to eat and her bottom is looking good and she has started to keep something down, other than Cruskits. This morning I’m going to try Weet Bix.

Last week we went to the solicitor in regards to the ESM’s request that I sign everything over to her. I wanted to thank every single one of you who commented and gave me advice and told stories of similar encounter’s. It was so good to read those and helped me get some perspective.

Basically, you were all right and I haven’t signed anything and won’t be in the near future.

The solicitor thinks we have a case.

I’m working on a fun post. I am I promise you.

It’s just that I have my hands full at the moment. I never knew that one little girl could cry so much.

Bare with me.

I won’t show you the photos but trust me it was bad. So bad that when the paed got the email with said photos attached, he called me straight away.

Those who have been reading my blog for a while will know that when our paed calls us before 6pm, when you’ve called at office opening, it’s a big thing.

Over the course of the weekend her nappy area had turned into one big blister, those blisters had popped and the skin sloughed away. She was sick and miserable but had come good on the return of her trusty Erythromycin.

The good doctor said hospital and I argued.

Because she was ok.

Because she was happy.

Because it’s her birthday for goodness sake and who wants to spend their birthday with a drip in their arm?

Not to mention the party and the guests. What do I tell them?

He called back three times, so I took her in.

When we arrived, no one knew we were coming. The nurses were at their bitchiest and sent me to admissions, claiming they would not touch her until they had the paperwork. So I went to admissions who knew nothing of us either and sent us away until they could contact the paed…whose office was closed until 1 pm.

I arrived at 11am. It took me an hour to find a parking spot, people. An hour.

Anyway we went back down to the ward and the nurse boogieman sat us in a corner and said she would not do one thing until we were admitted properly and then whined about how inappropriate it all was.

I just wanted to go.

The doctors came and checked her out, the paed came, the dermatologists came. They all had differing opinions but none of them involved IV antibiotics. At 6:30 pm they let us go. They couldn’t say what the blisters were so they gave us antibacterial cream, anti fungal cream and a barrier cream in case it was contact dermatitis. UGH.

At least we are home. Ivy is tucked up in bed and after a very eventful day that had nothing to do with organising a birthday party, I think I am going to bed too.

Just wanted to say thank you to Mary, who helped to juggle the day, I would have struggled without you.

Ivy slept through the night.

 Oh. Yes. She. Did.

Okay, she woke a couple of times and they said there was one episode of apnoea… maybe. They were very non commital about it all.

But for all intensive purposes, she had a great night’s sleep and a great night’s sleep means no tonsilectomy. No tonsilectomy means another year of terrible chronic illness. The truth is, I’m not sure I can cope. There I said it. No super Mum living under this roof.

ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!

The nurse came in at 6am and little miss ‘I never sleep through the night’ was still asleep! She asked me if this was a usual night for Ivy. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ummm, no, if this was a normal night, I would not be here having a sleep study, I would be at home with the other children. I would not have put my baby through electrodes  being plastered on her scalp and all over her face. I would not have held her down while she screamed blue murder as the oximeter was applied to her toe or the nasal prongs under her nose.

To say I felt like a fool is an understatement. To say I was made to be a liar by my precious daughter, a bigger one.

So we scrub the plaster from her curls and pack ourselves up, hoping to scurry away with tails between legs but we are stopped by the nurse. Don’t worry she says, alot of patients sleep through the first time, it just means she’ll have to repeat the test.

I don’t think so.

We won’t have official results for eight weeks. EIGHT WEEKS! Lucky this isn’t life or death.

I inwardly laugh. Nothing happens quickly around here. Not. A. Thing.

As instructed, we phone the ENT doctor to give him initial results and to talk to him about whether we will go ahead with the adnoidectomy without the tonsilectomy.

I have already discussed this at length with the paediatrician, the afternoon before the study and have decided that it is better the devil you know than the one you don’t and Ivy and I will fumble through another horrible year of illness, wait it out until she is three, an age that is deemed acceptable to perform T & A’s with little risk of bleeding, rather than put the Ivygirl through two general anaesthetics in six months.

Just to add to my merriment David calls to tell me that the ENT doctor has closed his rooms until December.

Why would I expect anything more? (Insert crazy laugh of choice here).

At least the paed appointment was more productive.

So as not to bore you I will put it in point form.

• Ivy’s last lot of bloods came back ok, except for her t cells. Which were low.
• He explained this might indicate immune deficiency (yep, knew that already) but that her
• Ig’s were all normal, so maybe not. He said;
• Ivy was a complicated case,
• he didn’t know what else to do for her at this stage and could we try
• long term low dose antibiotics for a while. (hmmm, I thought we had been on long term antibiotics for oh, say, TWO YEARS already)!
• Anyway, I said I would give it a go because
• Ivy’s bowels and gut are now playing up with the high dose aggressive antibugs
• Ivy has lost close to 700g (by hospital scales) in three weeks (600g by paeds scales).
• She will only eat bland foods and that isn’t helping her to get better, it’s not even helping her bowels.
• She is lethargic and miserable for alot of the time.

The paed’s reasoning is if we can keep infection at bay and not hope for a cure, (because he has seen the light and knows that is not likely to happen) for an extended amount of time, it might give her a chance to pick up her game, start to feel better and therefore give her an increase in appetite and allow her to put on the weight she has lost.

I’m all for wellness at this stage.

• Ivy has had blood tests again (results pending)
• and stool samples have been sent too (pending)
• Low dose Erythromycin started yesterday

This afternoon, she is playing outside, in the grass with Noah and Maddy. It’s nice to hear her laughing for what seems like the first time in ages. She looks… small and tired but play and laughter has gotta be good. In anyone’s books.

As for me, I was as open and honest as I could be. I told him I didn’t know if I could do it for another year, watch Ivy struggle and be helpless in, well, helping her. Nurses and control freaks don’t like not being in control at all and I am both of those. He suggested we limp through 2008 together. Hmmm, I don’t know if I will hold my breath.

I’m thinking an increase in the crazy pills are in order.

I asked him about doctors being friends with clients and all the rest of that stuff that has been bubbling through my mind and blog of late but, as this post is so long, I might have to leave all that for another day.

Oh, pictures of Ivy during sleep study to follow just as soon as I work out how to download from my phone. My husband has seemed mysteriously absent for a large part of this month but I will hit him up for some much needed IT help soon.

* Edited to add, photos now up - thanks Dave, sorry for the poor phone camera quality.

Leading up to the birth of Ivy and Noah (part two). Part one here

Wednesday came and I had the infusion. I did feel alot better, in truth but the pain I was complaining about, constantly, had not decreased.

I started to niggle on and off after the infusion but it settled. My fear did not and the gentle pushing from the midwives to have a tour of the NICU was very distressing. The tears fell often. I was classed as antenatally depressed (and I was, I knew it).

I needed to keep it together though so that I could have weekend leave to see the girls’ dance concert on the Sunday. That was my goal.

The Saturday was supposed to be my first ever baby shower. Nothing like doing things backwards.

I had a little mantra that I would chant everyday…just hold on until after the dance concert, just hold on…

Just when I thought it was never going happen.

The Sleep unit called us and Ivy is having  her sleep study tonight!

We came to the top of the cancellation list!

We are going straight after we see our wayward paed.

After two nights of waking up every hour on the hour if she sleeps through tonight, I am going to scream!

Wish us luck.

Ivy had a hearing test today and passed. That’s the good news.

When the audiologist checked her ears out she found:

Grommet out on the right side and rip roaring otitis media. (Her ear drum perforated on the way home).

Grommet in on the left side but discharging again.

Poor baby.

The paed is missing, presumed dead.

* Sorry, rant ahead*.

It’s November people, November!

Warm weather, hot actually. So why is Ivy still sick? Why, a mere 36 hours after stopping the antibiotics, is her nose running green and her chest sounding like the old rattling carriage of my school train? Why is her temperature high? Why, Why, Why?

Can anyone tell me?

Can anyone explain to me why, when I asked for a word with the doctor yesterday, I got an appointment a week from now and an angry, short response from the ruler of the world (his receptionist)?

Can I tell you how weird and inconvenient that is?

It’s weird because the paed said he didn’t want to see her until Ivy’s birthday or just after because, until that magical day, he can’t prescribe her Singulair (an asthma medication) and it’s weird because in a weeks time, she will not be acutely unwell.

It’s inconvenient because I had actually made an appointment for Imogen and Madeline to see their paed in Sydney next Wednesday, the day I now have an appointment with Ivy and Noah’s paed, in Newcastle. That’s two hours to Sydney and two and a bit hours back to Newcastle in the space of five hours. I don’t think so.

When I explained this to our gate keeper, she said it was that day, that time or nothing. The paed had ‘created’ that appointment for Ivy as it was. *SIGH*

Luckily our Sydney paed was more flexible and our time was changed to the following Thursday.

Thank goodness for friends in high places who have Bactrim on offer!

All I want for Christmas?

Ivy to be well and no need for the paed !

Rant over.

I was reading an interesting post by Dr Rob the other day. He was speculating the possibility of doctors and patients being friends and, in that context, disclosing information when having a particularly bad day. He wondered why patient’s asked how he was and attempted to probe into his life outside of his practice. He noted that he felt uncomfortable being dishonest and telling his patients that his life was fine, if it was not but in giving any personal information about himself  asked if that was crossing the line of professionalism.

I haven’t been able to shake this post for several days and have been going through it in my head.

Now, I know I have had a go at our paed for speaking about his hectic week, when mine was falling apart at the seams. I am willing to concede that I was stressed at the time and clearly feeling selfish and sorry for myself. As is usually the case when you are trying to contact a doctor.

I’m sorry for that, I am, because when I thought about it, I would much rather know if the twins’ paed is feeling out of sorts, so I know where we stand. 

I responded to Dr Rob’s post. I said that I knew when our paed was not feeling great because of his body language, his concentration levels and his ability to elaborate on things without being prompted.

Having thought about it, obsessively, for the last 48 hours, I have come to the conclusion that his disclosure of his difficulties and struggle to balance his professional and his home life means alot to me. It kind of puts us on even ground. Makes him human.

I know that we are not friends. We do not socialise but we do have a relationship. We talk. I am very open and honest about how I feel about doctors (he laughts it off). I have to say, I have come to feel comfortable with him, like an old slipper, really. I will question him if I am not sure about what he is proposing and I have sometimes challenged him too (I said sometimes, Mary, Tracey). I am one of the people who ask how he is and, I guess, I do like to get an honest response.

After all, he knows all about my babies. He knows my obstetric history, he knows our family and genetic history. He knows about my parent acopia and he has phoned me in the middle of complete and utter breakdown and listened as I bawled down the phone without hanging up in fear. The other day he saw me in the hospital, in trackies and a spew/snot/tear stained t - shirt with my hair like a birds nest and dark circles of worry under my red rimmed, tear filled eyes.

Now I don’t know about you but there are only a few men who have seen me that way… and he is one of the three on my list.

So to hear a bit about his life seems to balance things out.

This brings me to Andrew. The doctor who was there when William was born and was also the doctor who I trusted with the birth of Ivy and Noah. Things were weird between us for a while. After everything we went through together with William, I considered us friends. We spoke as friends. We shared things that friends would. He knew how I was feeling at a time when I was really bad at letting them show. If we were in town, we would drop in to see him. I have worked with him too as a midwife and we have shared a continuing ‘friendship’ through our work.

When I came to him pregnant with Ivy and Noah we instantly changed back to the professional relationship of doctor and patient. I hated it and all my trust in him evaporated because I thought we were friends and he was clearly not reciprocating. It was getting close to d - day and I was not sure I wanted Andrew to care for me any more because I felt he was putting up a fascade, not being honest with me.

Until there was an intervention by our mutual friend, Carolyn, and Andrew and I actually talked. The relief was instant (for both of us, I think). Things have been ok since and we have been able to find some balance.

Again, with Andrew, we don’t really socialise but I still feel that we are friends; because of what we went through together, because of what I have disclosed to him. So, our relationship is different again from that of the paediatrician. I appreciate him immensely.

What do you think? Is it possible to be friends with a doctor?  Does it change things too much? Should we keep our distance and not ask how our doctor is feeling, want to get to know them in the same way that they know about our lives?

For me, those questions have definately been food for thought.

Just on a side note; I suppose I’m thinking alot about this because I am going to read William’s and my hospital notes today with Andrew and straight after that we have Ivy’s sleep study interview…

Ivy is a bit better today and so, I am too.

Noah hasn’t deleted any email, tried to post his disgust at the lack of attention he felt he was not getting on my blog or in anyone elses comments section, therefore, I have come to the conclusion that he is feeling better about the events of today as well.

We read books. ("No - No, read it Clarey? Yes? Yes?"). Translation: Please read me Hairy Maclary 500 times or until I get bored with it.

We snuggled while Ivy slept from 9 until 12:30.

We watched some Wiggles ("I like it, Mar - mee, the big red car!"). Translation; I do enjoy watching those men driving the big red car.

We danced to the Fisher Price Piggy Bank music.

"O - oh, I’m a piggy bank with some coins big and small,

with lots of colours you can learn them all.

We’ve got red and orange, we’ve got yellow and blue!

What’s your favourite colour? We’ve got green one’s too"…

I know, I know, I seriously need some adult conversation!

Ivy only grizzled and wanted to be a velcro baby for half the day today (the other half she slept) so I’d have to say a little bit better for the Ivy girl means a whole lot better for everyone else.

Here’s to more ‘a whole lot better’ days.

Oh my goodness today was a big day!

Last night Ivy took a backwards slide and decided she would cry all night. I don’t know for sure what was going on but by the morning, her temperature was through the roof again. Come daybreak though she was brighter and I thought the worst had passed.

Sadly I was wrong.

The girls had to be in Newcastle for their full dress rehersal of their dance concert this morning. Early. I found out about this on Friday night when Ivy and I came home from the hospital. I don’t know why I forgot… stupid! Vague headed me.

To say I was in a panic was an understatment. I hadn’t paid for costumes, I had to do full make up for three girls and buns as well.

Anywaaaaaaay.

We made our way into town and Noah was his usual happy, easy going self but Ivy…oh, Ivy! She cried and asked to be picked up and when we picked her up she cried some more. She scowled at anyone who came anywhere near her and smacked out at the other children. She was pale and her nose was running terribly.

We had planned to spend the day in Newcastle but Ivy was so very unwell we decided to go home.

She slept on the way home but woke in an even worse mood.

Poor baby.

She just could not tell us what was wrong. Despite panadol she followed David and I around, everytime we put her down (for a toilet break, to hang out school uniforms, to start preparing dinner) saying … ‘it hurts’. Even taking her outside (her treasured outside) just didn’t cut it today.

I felt so sad  that there was nothing that I could do to make it better for her.

David left to pick up the girls and that is when Ivy really lost it.

It is mentally and emotionally exhausting when she is sick and I would love to just sit and cuddle her all day but I have Noah and the other kids to think about too. Maybe the paediatrician was right. Maybe we should have stayed in the hospital for an extra couple of days.

You’ll all be pleased to know that she is tucked up in bed asleep now, medicated with pain relief, antibiotics and chest rub.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

It has to be.

After a few horrible days in the hospital Ivy is home. Re-intergration into the house has not been smooth but we’ll get there. Thank you to everyone who sent their well wishes. It meant alot and helped us to get through.

I know I am a little behind but I need to do a little bit of house keeping.

The 1st of November marked the beginning of NoBloPoMo, which I am taking part in. I haven’t quite worked out everything yet but I do know I’m supposed to post every day of November! So far so good, even if I did have to get the technical consultant/new sub editor to post for me.

The 1st of November also marked our official countdown to Ivy and Noah’s second birthday, which falls on the 30th.

It is one of our busiest months with dance concerts, camps away, end of school activities and that all important lead up to Christmas.

Today is David’s mum’s birthday! Happy Birthday Grandma, hope you have a wonderful day!

Now, back to our regular program!

She sits in the chair of the darkened room, hunched over the small, defeated, ball of her child. She worries over this baby because she is always ill.

The day has been a big one. Crying, clinging and high temperatures. After the first convulsion, the child, a girl, has not moved from her lap until the next fit exploded from her body and left her motionless once again.

She is scared and feels alone in the place where she is. She cannot think who to call for help, except for her husband, who is still two hours away from home. The boy child has pottered around for most of the day, seemingly unnoticed but she has seen him, her heart aches to pick him up and cuddle him. Kiss him and tell him she loves him but for now, it is as if she is bolted to the chair by the weight of the girl, unable to move for fear of another convulsion.

Another daughter has remained home today and she is grateful of the help. She does not think she would have survived this day without her there.

For all the world, she wants someone to take this out of her hands.

Finally the paediatrician calls and the decision is made to go to the hospital.

She has a dislike for hospitals, even though she works in one and her trust for doctors is little but the paed has assured her that she will spend as little time in the emergency room as possible and because the girl child is not recovering well from the last fit and because she feels as though she can do no more for her baby she admits defeat and takes her. For the first time in days feels relief.

The emergency staff are efficient and kind. There are people everywhere, movement and blurs of people striding past in their urgency to provide care. In one booth she and her baby sit; the child is still on her lap but she watches everything. For an instant she wishes she were on the other side, giving the care instead of needing it.

Soon the girl child is ready, is canulated and a drip has been started. During it all the girl only cries a little and while everyone comments that the baby is brave, she knows that the girl is beyond caring.

They arrive in the children’s ward in the early hours of the morning. The nurses are friendly and sweep the pair into their room to sleep for the last few hours before sunlight.

It comes too soon and the girl child remains silent and unmoving. Her eyes have a glassy, vacant stare. Her breath comes in quick, sharp gasps. The child only moves when the nurses come to check her drip. Then she screams.

She is still worried about her baby but now it is a shared concern as the paediatrician arrives and looks her over. Another night, more antibiotics. Another 24 hours and the girl will be fine, he soothes the mother. She looks into his green eyes (had she noticed that before?) and finds reassurance and a kindness for the girl child.

Friends ring and some come to visit. The day is both long and short at once. The girl child picks up when the boy and her daddy arrive but she tires easily and when they are gone she falls asleep.

She can see improvement though and feels in control again as she snuggles next to her baby.

Now another morning is here and the sun is shining in from the window. The girl child has woken, like the day.  Fresh and new.

She smiles for the first time in days and kisses the girl child, who responds with a hug.

It is going to be okay, she thinks as she feels her heart begin to beat once more, as she hears herself exhale from the breath she has been holding.

By the Threeringcircus Technical Consultant, recently promoted to Sub-editor:

Your regular author sends her apologies for being unable to blog today.

Aparently it’s been too long since our last hospital admission. Despite our best efforts at managing the situation, we eventually conceded defeat and young Ivy was presented to hospital late yesterday.

As of this afternoon, things are improving - although I can’t include Ivy’s demeanour in this sweeping statement. She certainly has her mother’s critical eye for healthcare standards.

Unfortunately our insurance does not extend to bedside internet access. Nor did the recalcitrant Technical Consultant make alternative arrangements for same.

As a private patient, Ivy did receive a complimentary newspaper with an interesting cover story. I think the irony was lost on her, as her focus was more on stressing the insult of having an I.V. line in the back of her hand. When Noah took pause from his latest book fixation to inspect Ivy’s bio-enhancement, he was told in no uncertain terms, that the "hurts" was not to be touched. As always, chocolate proved to be the most effective distraction.

Hoping to return the the regular schedule shortly.

*Thinks to self: I should know not to bag out my paed (ever) because karma has a way of teaching you a lesson.*

Ivy is sick again. *sigh*. Will this never end?

With a tummy bug and a very sore bottom, my poor little girl, the one who is usually constantly on the go, has been very still today.

Get well baby. One day Mummy will learn that what goes around comes around.

On the weekend we bought and decorated Ivy and Noah’s new pottys. Ivy’s has stickers of handbags and shoes all over it and Noah’s is adorned with pirates. (Yes, they are waterproof stickers, friends).

With the other kids, we introduced the potty slowly. Imogen and Madeline went shopping and chose their own and their first pairs of undies. Lily was more or less the same but she didn’t like the potty, so she chose a toddler seat.

Initially we sat them on to ‘get a feel’ for using it before bathtime and progressed to them sitting on the potty when a parent was… sitting on the ‘great white throne’. For us, this worked really well (especially for the big twins) and they all trained quite easily. We had some cute little quirks along the way, like Maddy insisting she wear her pink sunhat everytime she needed to go but all in all, it went quite smoothly.

Summer is rapidly approaching, as is Ivy and Noah’s 2nd birthday and thoughts are turning to toilet training the toddlers (I think mum just wants to see me do away with my obsession with modern cloth nappies, just quietly) and I’m not sure this pair are going to be so easy.

For one, I have no idea how to toilet train a boy. I’ve never had to do it before. When Mal finally trained out of nappies he went straight to the standing position.

Secondly, we are almost nine years down the track from TT from scratch, I think I might have become rusty in my skills.

Thirdly, I have never had children sit on the potty and then proceed to race them down the hallway, scooching it along with their powerful legs, laughing at each other’s attempts to outscooch the other.

Finally, even though I spent a large part of today explaining to Noah, that you sit your bottom down on the potty he still insisted on wearing it as a hat. (Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘potty mouth’).

Truthfully, I am no hurry to have them using the toilet. Nappies are sometimes messy, sometimes they are inconvenient but having a two year old in undies brings about a whole new set of issues, let alone two toddlers in undies. I think the fact that the boy is wearing his as a fashion accessory speaks volumes about how ready they  are aren’t.

Oh - ho people! I found this in my blogging travels tonight!

I want him for our paediatrician, even if he lives in the States and has a moustache!

Seriously though, I do like our paed.

For anyone out there who has followed my blog for a while, you know how I feel about doctors, in particular paediatricians (and ENT doctors). I have whinged and whined my way through Winter.

Today, though, I have vowed never to complain about the services offered to me by our paed…okay, maybe I won’t be able to keep that vow and maybe it is unrealistic, given the way I distrust doctors in general.

When I read this story in one of my favourite blogs and followed the links to this blog, I admit I was thankful for all that our paediatrician has done for Ivy and Noah. I was also thankful that we don’t have the health care system that people living in the USA have to deal with.

Both of these mums have triplets, born prematurely and both have had issues with their paediatricians. Go and read for yourself.

If you are Australian, you will be gobsmacked. If that is not enough to peak your interest, how about ‘called security’,  ‘have us arrested’ and ‘dismissed from the service because the doctor didn’t like his tone’ for key statements?

If you are American… is this normal? Are these the kinds of things you have to deal with regularly?

Please tell me that all doctors do not have an etiquette policy. Please tell me that you are not all told that you will not be seen if you stink or if your children are too sick?!?!?!?

Like I said…speechless.

Luckily I can still type.

At 8am: Some of the kids (Ivy  included) have woken up with colds. Imogen will be staying home because she is too sick for school.

I realise that my quest to start the Christmas shopping is not going to happen.

It is cooler this morning and the sick children have begged off our daily morning walk, which I was kind of looking forward to but what is a girl to do? Break out the chocolate I say!

Ivy has a check up with the ENT doctor and I will begin my ‘negotiations’ to have her adenoids and her tonsils taken out.

Ivy finally has an appointment for the sleep clinic. It’s only taken ten months to secure.

The big kids have told me about three children in South Australia who are critically ill, two of whom are in a coma, because a highschooler gave them some ecstasy tablets and told them they were lollies.

I am very thankful that my children have had the knowledge of the devastation of drug use for as long as they can remember.

At 11pm (Don’t say anything - I know I should be in bed): Imogen is sleeping ok and I think her temp has broken. Ivy’s temp is going up and Noah is calling out in his sleep (asking for a book).

 Ivy is scheduled for adenoidectomy straight after the sleep study and if it shows that Ivy has apnoea, she will have a tonsillectomy too, although our friendly ENT doctor was quick to tell us that he felt she did not suffer from apnoea (yeah, like he has to sit up with her in the wee hours because her sleep is interrupted by gasping and hysterical crying) and there would be no need for tonsillectomy.

Can anyone say FIGJAM?

I now know that I hate predictive text on my mobile phone. When I tried to text David this afternoon, that… "Immy is sick" it predicted that I was trying to say…"Limbo is shmuck"

Is shmuck a word?

My friend and I have decided we are going to write a book. She and I are both midwives and we are both parents to a large number of children. This is not going to be just any book. It is going to be a text book, directed towards medical students. It is going to primarily look at bedside manner and how to treat clients with respect. We think it will, not only be a best seller, we agree that in a few years time it will be a text that will be compulsory reading for med students, particularly future doctors who are thinking of practicing in paediatrics. It will be a text that is to be read first, before the "Westmead Children’s Hospital Paediatric Handbook".

I know, I can almost hear your eyes rolling out there. I know I go on and on about how bad the medical profession is up here but I am just going to have to get it off my chest again.

Sorry.

The first and most important thing for any doctor who thinks they are going to put their hands on any of my children (and this one is mostly for the ER doctors); Tell me your name! Introduce yourself. It’s not so hard…

"Hello, my name is….Peter Paediatrician, how are things?".

See? Easy, isn’t it?

Don’t come charging in, grunt in my general direction and then try to examine the baby. It just won’t happen. Call me strange but I would at least like the reference of a name when I am trusting you with my child.

Secondly, if I bring any of my children to a doctor it is generally because I feel they are unwell enough to need one. I don’t run off to the hospital or the paediatrician just because they have a sniffle. Don’t treat me like I am a paranoid woman, who has no idea. Hospital is not the most thrilling place in the universe and I most certainly would not be there if I had any other choice. The thought of sleeping in a Jason recliner for however many nights doesn’t really do it for me either so why you would think I, or any other parent, would race up to the hospital at the first sign of illness is beyond me.

 Don’t belittle the parent’s concerns by making benign comments like…"oh she looks alright to me…" or…"why did you bring him up here, he looks like he is ok from where I am sitting". Statements like this are generally made before examining said child, so how can you make a judgement call like that? Also, it makes the parent second guess themselves and they often start to believe that they have over reacted. Before you make observations like that, why don’t you stop and listen to the parents. They know their children better than anyone. better than you, that’s for sure. 

It’s the same with regular specialists (ie;paeds). If they turn up for appointments and the children are well (for the first time in months) please don’t make the parents feel as though they are supreme idiots by making sweeping statements like…" Oh, they are doing really well". How can you say that? You are not available to see them when they are sick but the distressed phone calls to your rooms should alert you that they are generally not well and this is a welcome break from the norm. The parents have worked really hard to get them better (without much help from you). How about a little support? How about some empathy for the ill health that the children have seen and the tough Winter the parents have endured? Would that be asking too much? Don’t blow it off like it’s nothing. That is so degrading.

As a general rule, it is a good idea to build some kind of rapport with the client. It’s good to have a basis of trust when you are going to be either touching the patient or the child of the parent. Don’t come across as some kind of over the top salesman and expect that the client/parents will trust you. They won’t. They will think that you are just trying to placate them, telling them what they want to hear. They will get the impression that you are two faced and dishonest. The clients/parents will start to doubt you.

An ER nurse said to me a few weeks ago that the worst thing about doctors these days was their lack of bedside manner.

What do you think? Is it important to you?

Our Paed says I am too fussy about doctors that my expectations are too high. Maybe I am. Are you happy to go to any old doctor or do you like to go to someone who is actually interested in looking after you in a holistic way?

When I was working,there was stress. Worry about how we would find babysitting, stress with working night duty and then staying awake all day to look after the babies, worry about how David could juggle his responsibilities at work and at home but there was no worry about money. Ever. If we wanted something we would get it. If we needed to go food shopping, consider it done.

It was just too much for me though, when everyone was sick all winter. I had a kind of mini mental breakdown, I guess. I just didn’t want to do anything. Except blog. Except to put it out there into a forgiving, guilt free universe.

I wanted William, I wanted what should have been. I wanted a beautiful birth, a  live baby. I wanted the nightmares, the insomnia to stop. I wanted normalcy.

Ok, so I also knew that I couldn’t change anything. Nothing is ever going to bring Will back. Nothing. So realistically, I guess I wanted to be able to enjoy my family again. I was scared that I would never feel that warm contentment with my children anymore. Especially with Ivy and Noah.

I would cry alot. Torn between what I wanted, needed almost, to bringing in an income and helping out with money (and in turn, decreasing David’s stress). 

David has always been there for me. When my brother died, he was there. He pulled me up out of depression and made sure I went on to become a nurse. When I wanted to do midwifery, he supported me all the way but when it came to money, I always felt that subtle pressure, that expectation. So when he said it was ok for me to stay at home, I felt bad. Guilty bad. It really didn’t matter how he put it, how he felt my staying at home would benefit him, ease the pressure at work, I still felt that I needed to work. Until the first bout of croup gave me little choice but to resign.

So, for the last four months I have been at home. I have been seeing some people and taking some medicine. I have started to feel better, about the role I played in William’s death, about my family and how important they are to me, about my relationship with Ivy and Noah and for a large part, I have let go of the guilt of not working. I see the importance of being at home and I am loving it.

Until today.

This morning was the first time in a long while that I have felt that pressure to go to work, that old guilty bad creeping in.

Ivy and Noah’s birthday is coming and then it’s Christmas.

I love Christmas but I don’t. I love to see the kids’ faces early on Christmas day. I love the joy that they get from the things they really want, being under the tree. I don’t like the cost, the stress of balancing things out so everyone gets the same.

I know the next few weeks will be a juggling act of needs and wants. David knows it too. This morning he is stressed. About money. About juggling in an off pay week. I know that if I were working, there wouldn’t be a week where we would have to stretch the budget to breaking point.

What do I do? Should I go back to work? What would you do?

Would I just be walking straight back into the same old worries and be just as stressed, if not more so?

Am I ready to be the stress juggler again?

I think we need to talk about what our needs are, regarding Ivy and Noah’s care. I think that you don’t quite understand what our expectations are of you. I want you to know because, I have come to like you, even trust your opinion and I would like to continue having you as Ivy and Noah’s doctor.

When we first met you, it was after a horrible, sickly Winter. I knew it would be like that because all of my children have not enjoyed good health, so I expected that the babies would be the same.

Our hospital referred paediatrician had been no help, was hard to contact and when we did manage to aquire an appointment, she belittled our concerns. When the twins were put in hospital, on oxygen for a week because we were unable to see her and I went elsewhere, she became angry and said that we could not give the babies ‘bitty’ care, that they needed someone, who knew their history and could treat them appropriately. So we made the decision to find a new paed, one, who could give us good continuity of care. When we asked around, the NICU nurses said you were wonderful. Good with the parents.

With regards to our needs; as I am a registered nurse, I am quite able to manage most things at home for a prolonged period. I am comfortable with asthma plans and medication and I am vigilant when they are ill.

I am not overprotective because we have experienced a neonatal death. I have eleven years as a parent of sickly children and I know how to look after them. I feel that I am looking after their health to the best of my ability. We are their parents. It is what we are supposed to do.

If we make a phone call to your rooms to let you know that the babies are ill, it is because we are starting to struggle. It is not just to say hello. Giving two children nebulisers every two to three hours is exhausting and you often start to second guess yourself, after a week of sickness, in the wee hours of the morning.

We appreciate it when you phone us back to discuss things, it gives us reassurance and helps us to continue on at home. That is basically all we, David and I, as the parents need, unless the children are desperately ill, then we will manage Ivy and Noah’s chronic illness at home.

On the Thursday and Friday of last week, the twins were very unwell and we phoned you as a courtesy, to let you know that we were starting prednisone. You called us back, which was good and asked us to call again on Monday. Sunday saw Noah in hospital and Ivy was very close to it, however we managed to keep her at home. We called you on the day you asked us to with no response. On the Tuesday, when Ivy was worse we called again.

Today is Thursday and we have still had no response. I would have liked to discuss a few things with you regarding medications but as you have not been in contact with us, I have had to make my own decisions on these. I find this quite stressful and worry that I will be doing the wrong thing for the children. It would have been good to run these things by you.

I find it very hard to trust doctors. As you know, the services in our area are poor and to find a good general practitioner is near impossible. Our last GP has just left the practice he was in and so we have to start looking again. You have known Ivy and Noah now for over twelve months, you know the family history and our concerns. We feel that we have built up a good rapport with you and we are guided by your opinions.

Our expectations are that you will be there for Ivy and Noah’s health and for us as their parents. Our only ask is open, honest communication when we need it. We value this the most.

I understand and am thankful that Ivy and Noah’s condition is not life threatening however, constant chronic illness is tiring and often hard to control. It would be helpful to have a good support team, something that is strongly recommended by Westmead Children’s Hospital. We also understand that you are extremely busy and that we are not the only family that you are looking after.

Thank you for everything you have done for us, to date. I hope that you understand our needs a little better now and that you will be able to support these.

Kind regards,

Ivy and Noah’s Mum

Happy Father’s Day for yesterday to all the Dads, new and repeat offenders. Hope you all had a lovely day. To my sweet, wonderful Davey, the best father I have had the honour to know. You mean the world to us.

David has been a dad for a long time now. When he became a father, he didn’t get the gentle introduction to parenting in just one baby. He was handed two girls approximately one month after Mother’s Day 1996. Was he overwhelmed? Yes. Was he shocked at how full on fathering can be? Yes. Did he complain? No. He just dug in and helped 50/50. He took on all the aspects of parenting newborns and he did it well.  When Lily came into the world two years later she became his world and he hers. Four years later he lost his first born son and was devastated, rocked to the very core of his being. Now with Ivy and Noah, he has undying patience and love for them both. He has taken two boys who are no relation to him, except through me, into his heart and home and loves them like they are his own. He is a good man and a wonderful father.

He deserves to be celebrated and celebrate we did.

Traditionally we start the morning off with breakfast in bed and then presents. At lunch we had a picnic and for dinner, his favourite - spaghetti bolognese. While the other children and David were engrossed in parcel unwrapping, the babies were off making their own fun with the discarded packaging. Tiny shreds of paper were scattered from one end of the bedroom to the other (and all so quietly too)!

Do you know how hard shredded paper is to clean up from carpet? Especially when the offending distributors follow you around taking your sweepings and re distribute them?

AJ was missing from the morning’s festivities as he had gone with my mum and ‘Grahampa’ to see the football for his birthday present. He’ll be turning 11 in about 13 days. Mum picked him up on the Saturday and he stayed the night with them too. All parties report that they had a ball! That’s good because AJ has been a little quiet and withdrawn of late.

The girls have been playing with their Barbies again in the last few weeks and Saturday was Barbie fasionista day. The girls took scraps of material and fashioned formal gowns. I think they had a nice morning just relaxing  and pottering around the house. After AJ left we made our way down to Sydney to see David’s parents and sisters. It was nice to have everyone together.

The babies made their way through the weekend with varying degrees of asthma but at the end of the day we did make it.

We saw the paed this morning and despite his frustrating lack of response on the Thursday he rallied well and took very good care of Ivy and Noah (and their mother). He made sure that we had enough scripts to go away with (only 11 days to go) and said if we run into strife to call him and he will phone diagnose. (Sometimes I think he has found my blog and my posts of doctor frustration).  Anyway, you’ll all be pleased to know that Noah is over the hump. Ivy? Ears, nose and throat all infected again, chest as well. We are on another course of Erythromycin, Ciproxin and Hydrogen Peroxide,hope it does the trick!

There is horses flu everywhere in NSW. It started up here in the boonies, apparently. Horses all over Australia are being quarantined so as not to infect the rest of the equine community. It leads me to wonder what it would be like if you were standing next to a horse, with the flu, when he sneezed… gooey springs to mind, wet, ummmm… green?

Here is a joke as told by a 3rd grader (column 8, Sydney Morning Herald) ; Q:Where do the horses go when they have the flu? A: They go to the horse - pital!!!

It seems there is alot of that going around, the flu I mean and sneezing. When you are the mother of atopically challenged children, you don’t hate Spring but you don’t love it either. The weather here has been the typical asthma inducing type, gloriously and unseasonably warm in the day, with hot gusts of wind and freezing at night. Out of the seven children, four are currently dealing with their asthma. For the older girls, it’s more a case of compliance to their medication and upping the dose accordingly but for Ivy and Noah it is a series of nebulisers, preventers and then prednisone when things get bad…and nebbing two cranky toddlers every three hours is about as bad as it can be (for me) before we seek hospital admission.

Although, I am slowly (so slowly) coming to the realisation that gaining admission to hospital in the boonies is harder than it is in the big smoke.  Personally, I think it has more to do with paeds than with anything else. When Imogen and Madeline were little and I was inexperienced in asthma induced problems, I would ring their paed (a wonderful female doctor) and she would see me. In later years, we had a standing letter for the hospital and if I phoned the doctor she would more often than not meet us in the children’s ward. She was, in my opinion, a true paediatrician. Not only did she look after the girls’ well being but when their parents were getting a touch of the crazies, she could see it and would use her ‘assertive practitioner skills’ to guide us into hospital, so that we could have support too. She was a Godsend. Fast forward eleven years and my how things have changed!

Now, you can’t even get in to see your paed. You have to beg the receptionist for five minutes of his time. When you make a mercy call in the morning, if you are lucky, he will call you back at dinnertime…when the babies have really lost the plot, are crying at the top of their lungs, other children are scattered throughout the house in varying stages of undress, showering or getting redressed, because, on top of everything else, you have agreed to let the school aged children go to the fundraising disco, which has been scheduled for, you guessed it, dinnertime.

If you say you are not coping and that your week is like a living hell, the new age paed will be encouraging of your feelings of self doubt by belittling them and cussing about how horrible his week has been. (Of course it is impossible for a lowly SAHM/midwife to have a worse week than a doctor). If you then concede to being able to cope at home for a few more days on the understanding that you will be able to see him first thing Monday morning, you can then expect to be told that his schedule for that day is ‘disasterous’ and he can only squeeze you in at 8am (breakfast time and leaving for the bus time).

Unless you throw a mother (pardon the pun) of a tanty and tell the doctor that you are not going to make one more decision regarding the health of your babies because HE is the doctor and should be ‘guiding’ we parentals (medical training or no), do not expect the millenium paed to aquire ‘assertive practitioner skills’ anytime in the forseeable future. You see, he does not want to make the wrong choice at the risk of being sued. AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!

While I very much like our paed, I find him very frustrating…hang on, there is a common thread here. I find all doctors frustrating! Well, what do you know? Is that what they call an epiphany?

What is the Noah - ism for glasses? :Eye - ses, of course!

He is becoming so aware of his surroundings now, noticing things and naming them. It is really interesting to watch. Maybe it’s because I am older and have a better understanding of the different developmental milestones or maybe it’s just because Ivy and Noah are my last babies and I don’t want to miss a single thing, who knows but every new day is an adventure, a new discovery.

Noah was sitting in front of his bedroom window this morning, just watching the world go by, silent and still. Very unlike Noah. When he heard me come into the room he turned to me and pointed outside… ‘rainging’ he said. Just like that. It was raining too, pouring infact, so much so that the scene outside was quite blurred through the rain on the window. Our backyard is starting to resemble a swimming pool again. I hope it stops soon. Imogen and Madeline are in a school production, held every year up here in the Hunter region, called Starstruck. It was supposed to be on in June but was postponed because of the flooding. The performances are all set to start again this week. On Thursday. It would be a shame if it had to be cancelled because of more poor weather. Praying for sunny days here.

AJ’s soccer team made it to the semi finals this weekend. Unfortunately the team lost this round and so his next game is in Singleton. I really hope they win this match. They have played extremely well all season. We need good weather for this too.

For those lovely friends who have been worried about the babies with their gastro, thank you. It means alot to know that you all care. Noah turned the corner on Friday and Ivy, although still not 100% is alot better and they are both eating and drinking now. Maddy and Mal seem to be the only ones who avoided the bug this time around. Fingers crossed that is the last we see of it for 2007.

When gastro has seeped into the very pores of the house and you fear that there is no light at the end of that proverbial tunnel, who do you call for help? You call the two grandmas, of course.

On Thursday, when I was fearful for my son’s life, my mum, "Gran" (or Gan, if you are Noah) came for a ‘visit’. She sat with me and listened while I blubbered about how worried I was. She rocked the little girl, who was also very sick, in the rocking chair, made cups of tea and was generally a shoulder to cry on. She looked after me, mothered the mother. When, in the early afternoon hours, I decided enough was enough and took Noah up to the local hospital (I know, I said I wouldn’t but some fools never learn) she stayed at home and waited for the big kids to get back from school and calmed them. After almost a week coping on my own, she was some welcomed adult companionship. There was no hesitation about coming out to help, even though we had poo and spew from one end of the house to the other.

The next day, having picked up the scent of a family member in need, "Grandma" (Mamar) David’s mum came to my aid. Even though Noah was feeling slightly better and ventured off my lap to move over to hers, my arms were now full with the very sick little girl. More sitting and rocking, more cuddling of babies, more cups of tea, food, washing on and off the line, conversation and reassurance. Even after sage warnings that the gastro bug was a nasty one and she would catch it, she still made her way up to the boonies.

Quietly and efficiently these women work their magic. They are just there when you need them the most. We are very lucky to have them in our lives.

When I took Noah up to the local hospital the doctor came in and looked him over and declared him ‘not sick enough for hospital’. I was upset, to say the least that we were being turned away. Noah, who was a semi comatose ball of lethargy on my lap did not have a heart rate high enough (it was only 149 bpm) his tongue and mouth weren’t that dry, his eyes weren’t sunken enough and vomiting three to four times a day for four days was just not enough. I felt that we had hung in there long enough and the fact that Noah hadn’t moved from my lap in over twelve hours was a bad sign, that and the fact that his temperature was high and his hands and feet were deathly cold (a sign that the body is peripherally shutting down, keeping circulation close to the major organs) but not bad at all, according to the doctor. So, with a bottle of hydrolyte I left the hospital, feeling for all the world like a paranoid mother. When I arrived home the paed called and we discussed things. His cries of ‘for the love of God, don’t bother with the local hospital anymore.’ did not fall on deaf ears this time. Never the less, we pushed through the night with sips of water, terrible stomach cramps and tired, fragile babies and parents… and we made it - just.

Ivy was not in good form today but again, we will push through the night and hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Today, with the thought of having to transport vomiting children anywhere, I am thankful that I have a bus with vinyl flooring.

Also; David’s take on how to effectively establish communication with the paediatrician - "Ring early, ring often!"

*** WARNING, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SICK OF HEARING ABOUT THE SICK*** (hey, I just realised I can use colour on this blog!)

It’s very early on Monday morning and I know now that Lily’s vomiting was not just a random act of kindness, in wanting to paint my bathroom. In hindsight, it was foolish of me to relax after a respiratory illness as bad as the flu that has just swept through our house. It was foolish and complacent (there is that word again) of me. Did you know that some viruses can cause respiratory infection AND tummy upsets? Adenovirus springs to mind and, obviously, in this house, influenza too. I have had personal experience with my friend adenovirus. Imogen aquired it some years ago and after a particularly nasty ‘cold’ with asthma involved, it travelled through her system, into her gut and…well, you can imagine the rest. So, now gastro has come to reside in this house. As far as I can tell, it comes in varying forms of disgusting. From the throw everything up and feel better in 24 hours to the nauseated feeling of something isn’t quite right that lasts for days and everything in between. Yuck. If there is one thing I hate more than snot, it’s vomit and if there is one thing I hate more than vomit, it’s diarrhoea. Somebody get me a bucket…

When David discovered Ivy had…soiled her bed in the wee hours of the morning he rapidly made his way to go to work. He washed and dressed (while I cleaned Ivy up - he did strip the sheets for me) and while I was dirty (pardon the pun) that he was about to make a clean (oh I crack myself up) getaway, I also had to laugh because his running commentry really lightened the mood.

Ivy and Noah were sitting on the bed, carrying on with their regular banter of babble, squeals and screeches, when Ivy made a rather loud rasberry "thbrrrrrrrr!" sound. David pipes up …’it was like this’ he explained in a high pitched imitation of Ivy’s voice. Then Noah let out an almighty blurt "Thbbbbrrrrttttt"…"more like that, actually," said David, "I’ll tell you how it really happened". Narrating on his son’s behalf. I fell about the bed laughing, the babies staring at me as if I had forgotten to take my crazy pills this morning. Seeing my mirth, he made to leave and I grabbed him and said, "You think you’re going to work and leaving me with the gastro kids, think again Buster!"

His reply to that? "Buster thanked the mice for the wonderful party… and then he ate them" (apparently an old family saying) and with that vacated the quarantined house. I live in a crazy world people, how is one supposed to stay sane?

…until our holiday but who’s counting and wasn’t the weather beautiful today?

Today I was supposed to move all my scrapbooking stuff into Ivy’s old room, wash mountains of sheets, make some lycra boots, clean up my room and rearrange the loungeroom. I was supposed to go food shopping, weed the garden and wash down the stroller. Supposed to.

What I actually did was two loads of sheet washing (which the lovely Maddy hung out for me), a load of school uniforms, I scrubbed down the stroller and while I waited for that to dry, I got in the car with the family and went food shopping…for picnic yummanas. Then we went out to Hunter Valley Gardens for a picnic and basked in the late Winter sun, ate antipasto on paper plates, munched on TOOBS, watched Ivy try to play football and Noah being pulled around in his blue carcar. After we had had our fill of all things delicious we went for a walk and found ourselves in front of the Ice Cream Parlor at Oscars.

For those of you who don’t know, I am an ice cream addict (self confessed). I have lovingly passed this trait onto all of my children (even the non biological kids). The (almost) hardest part of the day was choosing the flavour…the hardest part, really, was having to share with Ivy the ice cream hog!

Did I tell you all that we put Ivy in the big bed? Yep. And, did I tell you that she slept through the night for five nights in a row? No? I didn’t tell you? That’s probably because I was sleeping or catching up on sleep or dozing, dreaming, napping, snoozing, catching some zees, anything you can imagine (don’t get too carried away, people, remember we are parents of seven children and we really are tired) without a baby in the bed. Did I also mention that five nights is just enough time to become complacent and expect that she will continue to do so? Wrong! So wrong. You should NEVER become complacent! Because just when you are least expecting it, she will throw you an all nighter, just to put you back in your place. If you do relax then you can also expect that her brother will wake up too and together they will make your night almost too much to bare, add to that an early morning (4:30am) vomit (picture the toilet literally painted in spew, walls, door, floor, sink…anywhere else BUT the toilet) from Lily and your night is set! Oh and don’t forget to have one of Lily’s best friends sleeping over for the night. PERFECT! That’ll teach yer, yer pesky parents!

Seriously folks, five nights is a cause for celebration in this house!

In other baby news, did you know that it takes Noah roughly 10 seconds to steal the "helpme" (torch) from his sister, even though she is waving it from side to side and screeching at the top of her lungs, and when you need two hands to push - pull the tape measure in and out of its casing, your mouth is a handy place to hold your father’s mobile phone, so that your brother won’t take that too?

Hmmm, that’s about it for this week. Let’s see what mid August has to offer!

We went to our paed today for a check up following the flu and every ENT infection known to man that attacked Ivy’s little body. He looked her over and declared her …’the best he’s EVER seen her’! Yay for Ivy and yay for the antibiotic. We are going to stay with the erythromycin for a few more days and then trial her off it. Fingers crossed in the immortal words of the ENT doctor.

David came with us this time and we sat for a long while in the car afterwards. It was like one long exhale. After some  delicious minestrone soup and crusty bread (David and babies, not me, don’t touch the stuff), we joked about placing bets on timing for the next illness. His bet was for just before we leave for Queensland, mine was a little more optomistic, with her going down at least a week before, so that we could get on top of it before we go! I know, we sound like freaks but such is life with Ivy. We might as well laugh when we can, so humour us, ok?

It was beautiful in the Hunter Valley today and this afternoon Ivy and Noah played outside in the sunshine. I discovered that it is not only my little girl who loves shoes but my little man too…and not your big clumpy sneaker or boot either. He is rather partial to a good patent leather shoe, thank you very much! It was with that information and an impromptu photo shoot that I went to  a scrap class with Jen Hall. Those of you who are into Scrapbooking will know her as one of The Masters and that she has a quirky eclectic style that I love.

We arrived late and were a bit rushed to catch up but I soon found my pace and got to complete a whole layout uninterrupted! I had a really great time and I hope I can do it again very soon. I got to look at some of her pages and OMG! I have so much to learn. Her layouts were absolutely amazing. I would love to be able to scrap with abandonment as she has. Her artistry shows no fear.

The good news?

Ivy is getting better!!!

Yes, she is on the road to recovery. Finally.

It’s all because of my new love…Erythromycin. How can one little antibiotic be SO different from another?

Here are the good bits;

Normal temperature for 24 hours.

Nose is running clear!

Left ear is clearing up (with the help of hydrogen Peroxide and Ciproxin drops).

Cough is not so wet.

No vomiting antibiotic for over 24 hours.

The bad bits;

Upset tummy, bad diahrroea, still clingy and whingy when awake, still needing Panadol/Neurofen for pain almost 2nd hourly.

For the first time in over a week I am feeling more relaxed and happy. Even though Ivy was up for a large part of the night with tummy cramps, she is up and walking around this morning, playing and rummaging through things! YAY! I never thought I would celebrate the demolishing of my kitchen but here I am!

While Ivy has been  feverish, she has been obsessed with her shoes. She would wake with a high temp and cry ’shoeshoeshoesssss!’ Even when she was so ill she couldn’t stand upright, she would be snuggled into my lap, on the rocking chair, grizzling about her need for shoes.

Here is a photo I took of Ivy last Sunday, in the car, with a high temp, loving her shoes. Ivy has several pairs of shoes and each and every one of them has helped her through this last week gone. I hear the cry for her shoes in my sleep now.

Yesterday, Trish and her boys made the long trek up to see me. She braved the flu for me. She knew I was struggling and came to give me some company. I had a really nice day, what more could you want? Adult company, chocolate and hot tea. Ivy had woken in a good mood and was pottering around for the first half of the day. Even when she lost the plot and cried and grizzled for the whole afternoon, Trish still stood firm. She didn’t beg off, she didn’t cuss or roll her eyes because Ivy was sick, sad and demanding. She was there. Thank you Trish. You are a really special person!

On a final note this morning, I took this photo of My Noahry Boy, trying his hardest to be like Mum.

Here he is, on the kids computer happily typing away.

I wonder if he thinks he is blogging?

I know all I write about these days is sick kids. Readers, you must be sick of it because I am SO over it.

In the infamous words of the paed, yesterday, ‘The Flu Sucks!’

It sure does.

I have all the kids home today. Some have it and some don’t but I’m sure they will get it. It is a terrible flu. The worst we’ve had in this house for…well, I don’t know how long. A long time. Those who suffer from asthma (five out of seven) all have a nice wheeze going on. Those who have their tonsils left, have tonsilitis. Ear infections aplenty here! All because of a stupid virus that then lets the bacteria in for a party.

If you have been near us in the last week (sorry Mum, paed, GP, checkout chick at Big W (we ran out of undies - it was a mercy call)) you WILL get it.

Am I wrong to keep the two who haven’t got it yet home? I’m not sure. I know I don’t have the energy to do school morning and look after five sickies too.

Noah (who really isn’t that sick) is typically male and is milking it for all it’s worth but having said that has a cough and asthma and his temp is up and down.

Ivy has a middle ear infection (with discharge - of course), chest infection, tonsilitis and a terrible green gooey nose. She is on Augmentin Duo again and we have already had one lot of antibiotic induced vomiting this morning. *SIGH* Although, looking on the bright side, she is in much better spirits.

Immy, AJ and Lily are all down today.

Maddy and Mal (and I) remain well.

My plan is this; Dose them up, rug them up, keep the house warm. Lots of hot tea, lots of chicken soup and DVDs, kisses and cuddles.

Me? I’ll have a hearty dose of adrenalin and some cortisol for good measure. That should get me through this!

David’s flu has been passed on to Ivy and Noah and Imogen.

Yesterday Ivy had a very scary febrile convulsion and my acopia reared it’s ugly head. The paed (with his great plan) went home and was ‘uncontactable’ (is that a word?) according to his receptionist.

So we went to the local hospital. I only have two words to explain the experience…NEVER AGAIN.

When Ivy decided it was a good time to fit, it was about 3:10pm. The kids were on their way home, via bus and Mal was coming home via his bus and was not due until 4:30pm.

It’s amazing when something freaky happens how nurses just go into nurse mode. I stayed calm (I surprised myself), waited it out, stripped her down, wiped her down with a warm washer and when I got her temp from 40.2 to 39.5 I phoned David…and lost the plot entirely. Noah was an absolute angel while all of this was going on (bless his cotton socks). David called the paed’s rooms (the second for the day) then the hospital and I called Mum, who made the hours drive out to our house and arrived just as Mal came home. By that time, Ivy’s temp was 38.4 and she was alert again. I grappled with a trip up to the hospital but in the end (after David phoned them and asked the triage nurse if it were necessary) decided I had better get it checked out, so almost two hours after the event I found myself in A&E.

Of course there was nothing they could do (aside from give us another course of antibiotics - her ears and tonsils were infected) and the nurses were very kind but they treated me like some kind of white trash idiot, who knew nothing. (Maybe they know something I don’t…hmmm).

This morning both Ivy and Noah are alot better (although still not up to their usual standards of mischief). Immy is still in bed nursing a sore head and asthma.

Here is a favourite saying of my Mum’s,

Yesterday is gone…forget it!

Tomorrow never comes…don’t worry about it!

Today is here…Live it!

Oh, i’ll be living it alright. I’ll be living it in the laundry catching up on a day’s worth of lost washing time!!!

Electrophobia: The fear of electricity or in Noah’s case, the fear of electrical appliances.

To date, Noah is afraid of;

The vacuum cleaner,

The mix master,

The blow heater,

The hair dryer,

The blower vac and

The lawn mower.

When any of these machines whir into action, Noah cries and runs to me. He clings to me tightly and shakes. His heart palpates way above his normal rate and his eyes dart around the room, looking for the dangerous noise maker.

I’m not kidding. He is petrified.

We have tried all manner of things to settle his fears but so far none have worked. I’m hoping that he will grow out of it. No good woman will want to know him if his phobias take him into adulthood!

If Noah doesn’t grow out of his electrophobia he won’t be able to;

clean the house,

puree up the baby food

or do any of the lawn duties…

I know HE may think that is heaven on a stick but his wife won’t! Trust me on that one!

Scattered around this entry are the photos that I put forward for the Jeans for Genes competition, run by Huggies. Do you like them? The gorgeous jumpers that they are wearing are made by an Australian designer Oobi. I found them at a gorgeous internet boutique minifashionista 

David is still sick with the flu. His lowest temperature today was 37.7 degrees. He was going to go to work but I reasoned with his sense of responsibility. I asked him to consider all the men with newborn babies and the men with children whose health was already compromised. He agreed. As it is, someone from his work infected him and inturn he has infected Ivy and Noah (going downhill rapidly this evening) and Immy and Maddy are feeling unwell tonight too. He called into the office to say he wasn’t going to be in, only to be answered by a stuffed up, gooey, male voice, who professed to also have the flu!

Boys, what are you doing? If you are sick, stay at home! Stop the cycle! Forget about your male work ethic for just a minute and consider the children (and the mother’s who have to look after them) when you cough all over a man who is also a father!!! ARRRRRGH!

David says he is going in tomorrow, no matter how lousy he feels. *SIGH* Have I not taught that man anything?

We went back to our ENT doctor today for a follow - up on Ivy’s ears. He was VERY happy to see that they were not discharging. If he were a footballer, he would have done one of those victory dances that they do, after they have scored a goal. He was that happy and he was cautiously optomistic, emphasis on the cautious part.

His new instructions were written on a little blue post - it note and went something like this;

Hydrogen peroxide once every three days for 2 weeks.

Hydrogen peroxide once every five days for 2 weeks.

Then stop.

Keep fingers crossed.

I kid you not, if my scanner was working I would show you. (Actually, my camera did an ok job, don’t you think?)

We briefly discussed Ivy’s need for an adenoidectomy in the not too distant future. He usually doesn’t do that procedure until the child turns three but he said that in Ivy’s case, once she turns two we will negotiate. By negotiate, I guess he means how many times I have to bug him about her ears and nose over the next four months.

Four months! Not long until my babies turn 2!!!!!

Our next check up will be in three months, if nothing untowards happens in the meantime.Having said that I asked the receptionist if we could keep our original 3 month check - up which is in the first week of August. The last time I cancelled we ended up with discharging ears for four months. I guess I just don’t want to jinx us again.

The receptionist totally understood and was happy for us to ring the week before. Like the doctor said, fingers crossed!

Yesterday I went to Westfield at Tuggerah. I transferred some money from our holiday savings account. It was worth it. As much as I hate to dunk into that account, I needed to. We had to go down to pick Lily and Madeline up from a sleepover with Grandma anyway so we thought that it wouldn’t hurt to do a touch of shopping.

We bought some play equipment for Ivy and Noah because they had enjoyed Sammy and Joel’s so much and we purchased a second swing so that both of them can be pushed at once while I’m hanging out the washing. There were other things that we bought too, essentials like wipes and…well, I guess Lily and Maddy thought that a new Beanie Bear was essential and that AJ and Mal believed that they absolutely needed that football… Anyway what we really transferred the money for was sheets.

I think the lowest point for me, as a mother, is when babies throw up on you. Not just the normal possets that all babies do. All of mine have decorated me in such a way at some point in their babyhood. The first time ever Immy, who was about eight months, vomited over me just after a full lunch. It was gross. It was large and it went into all the crevices of the lounge where I was sitting at the time. THAT was memorable. The others have done it but nothing so… chunky or confronting… until Saturday morning.

Noah and Ivy have had croup then asthma and it has now progressed to a cough. Just a garden variety cough. On Saturday they woke and had their morning bottle. All was good. It was a little early for them and cold but nothing  too out of the ordinary. Ivy got down from the bed and pottered around. Noah snuggled down on top of me. He was coughing just a bit. Then he sat up and started coughing more. I was patting him on his back, consoling him when all of a sudden he gave one almighty cough and up came the entire bottle! The thing is that, right at that very moment, I had my mouth open in an ‘O’ (as in ‘Ohhh, poor Noah, you’ll be ok.’) but it was not ok, none of it was.

He got my face, hair and inside my mouth, down my shirt and all over my last set of flannelette sheets. He got the blanket and one of the quilts too.

I know, I know it’s all very gross and makes you want to throw up as well. It did me, there was some dry retching on my behalf, that was for sure. Also tears (lots of them) because after the last month of sickness, being vomited on was like the last punch in the guts. Showers were had by all and finally a few laughs over the whole thing. (It was ok for David to chortle, HE didn’t get anything but some splashback on his PJs sleeve). Noah was right for the rest of the day. No more spew and barely any coughing.

I had to tell you that story because I needed to justify why I spent alot of money on Saturday and why when I saw that new minky blanket in Adairs, I just had to have it.

We had a wonderful day on Sunday! We went to Samuel and Joel’s first birthday. It was lovely being around so many little ones. Sammy and Joel were all smiles all of the time. They took the people and presents in their stride. Gorgeous, happy little guys. I took my camera but I forgot the memory card so no photos for me just sweet memories. Ivy and Noah played on the outside equipment throughout the afternoon. Ivy didn’t stop for anything. David and I shovelled food into her mouth while she was climbing the slippery dip. Noah, bless his cotton socks, being male, could not master the playgym. He could climb up and get into the body of the colourful plastic but from there, he was stumped. Instead of trying to work it out, he head butted the sides and the front screeching ‘getttouuuuutttt!!!!!’ All the while Ivy was climbing the stairs, swinging from the bar, to the floor and through the exit over and over again, barely giving her brother a sideways glance.

We had to stop to give them both ventolin through the nebuliser a few hours in but otherwise we thought they did ok, asthmawise. After the croup went straight to  an exacerbation of their asthma and we had been struggling to control the rattle and hum of our wheezy babies.

On the way home Ivy and Noah started to cough and wheeze and wheeze and cough. By the time we hit Pennant Hills, they could barely catch their breath. We entertained the idea of driving straight to the hospital but somewhere between the Berowra exit and Gosford, they fell asleep, hands above their heads, necks extended, rapidly grasping at each breath. I just wanted to get them home. I thought that if I could get them there, I could medicate them and get through until morning. SO we pushed on. By the morning and having nebbed them 2nd hourly I was exhausted and so was David. Ivy and Noah were largely better, having made it through the night. A little shakey from all the ventolin but better.

I was disturbed though and not taking the series of the nights events well at all. In a paediatric world this is known as ‘parent acopia’ The parent’s inability to cope with the situation. Often hospital admissions of children are made because of this, according to some. It got me thinking, where do we go if we feel that we can’t cope? I haven’t been in that situation for such a long time. Do we go to the closest hospital? Do we go to the hospital that our paed is attached to? Do we go at all? Because, when you get to 2nd hourly nebs, there’s not alot more a hospital can do for you. It really would be because I couldn’t handle the babies being sick anymore. Of course, I wouldn’t be silly. If Ivy or Noah were in trouble I would take them but hospital is a last resort in this house.

Parent acopia was very real for me on Sunday night. When I asked the paed today we made a plan. He said my problem wasn’t that I didn’t cope. It was that I coped too well. Essentially, he made it ok for me not to cope. He let me know that most parents wouldn’t cope with 4th hourly nebs, let alone 2. He made my acopia acceptable… for me. So now, if I get to Sunday night’s stage of complete and utter breakdown, I can go to his hospital and we will take it from there.

We have a plan and I like plans!

On Monday I met some lovely nurses. We introduced ourselves and our area of work. When I announced that I was a midwife the medical and surgical nurses all commented on how lucky I was and how easy my job was.

Ok, birth is a normal life experience and most women enjoy a healthy pregnancy, have a normal birth and are independent of cares during their postnatal period. Having said that, I don’t think midwives have an easy job at all. For a start in our position we are expected to have some medical and some surgical skills. We have to be ready to treat episodes as scary as eclamptic fitting and postpartum haemorrage right through to being able to prepare and take a lady to theatre for caesarean. Our position is not so much the physical as the emotional. We deal with mental health issues, people with developmental delay, we look after ladies from all walks of life with differeing expectations. We deal in new life and birth and an important right of passage but we also have to have knowledge and compassion for those who lose their babies and for those who lose their right to birth in a way that equals their expectations. Midwives work hard every day. We are lucky though. Lucky, that on a daily basis, we are invited into something as important as a baby’s birthday. That, for a few hours we have an insight into a woman’s life, her family, her very being. I think that we are so priviledged to be a part of something so beautiful. Midwives are the lucky nurses

Today we had Lily’s party. Her friends were well behaved, well mannered and lovely. Her party was completely opposite to Imogen and Madeline’s a fortnight ago.  It was a joy to have these girls in our home.The time went so quickly and I felt relaxed and happy. Lily had an absolute ball!

Twelve months ago my beautiful friend Trish was in hospital, waiting for her twin boys to be born. Everyone in this household was on tenderhooks, waiting for the message that Sam and Joel had arrived safely.

I met Trish through Belly Belly when I was looking for information on trying to conceive after losing a baby. We joined at almost the same time. There were a few of us. Bec, who had lost her daughter, Georgia, Kirsty, whose son Alex had died, Sarah and her angel Lachlan, Trish with her gorgeous Charlotte and me. We were all on the same journey at around the same time.

Trish and I became friends. When I found out she was pregnant, I cried my eyes out. When I discovered she was having twins I cried even harder. I was so happy for her.

Over the three years I have known her Trish has been there for me through everything. Through the grief of losing WIlliam, to the discovery that I was pregnant. Even though she was waiting to conceive, and her heart must have been aching for her Charlotte and wishing fro that elusive positive pregnancy test, she lifted my spirits as I worried myself senseless over Ivy and Noah’s pregnancy. She celebrated their birth and she has been there through every anniversary for Will, every scary moment with the babies, every happy and sad moment. She has been a true friend, so tonight on the eve of her babies’ first birthday I want to celebrate her!

Congratulations Trish! Hoping you have the happiest of birthing days and that tomorrow is filled with happiness, fond memories of Samuel and Joel’s birth and of new memories made.

Thank you for being the person that you are. You are an amazing woman and I am a better person for having met you. I wish you every happiness and dream come true!

Yesterday my blog site was down and I couldn’t log on. I had all these witty things I wanted to say and lots of funny moments to help lighten the mood of the previous two posts but it was down. Now, due to a severe case of Mummy Brain, I have forgotten, so there will be none of these. Humble apologies.

Yesterday Ivy and Noah still had croup and I had to call in sick for work. When my nursing unit manager called me to find out what the problem was I resigned. For all the world I felt that I could not possibly work and look after sick babies for the Winter and be any good to either parties so I made the choice to leave.

It all feels a bit unreal today. I have been employed as a nurse and a midwife for ten years. I worked throughout the girls’ toddler years (and Lily’s baby years). With Ivy and Noah though, I am beaten. I just can’t do it anymore. So, I am going to be a SAHM (stay at home mum) for a while. It could be good and it could be just what I need right now. So while croup has kept me up for the last two nights and I have cursed it to the ends of the earth, in some strange way it has set me free from the pressure of juggling work and home.

Thought I might break it up a bit.

So Monday was stressful and all I wanted was for David to stay home for Lily’s birthday. We had an appointment with the ENT which I was reluctant to go to on my own. David had other plans though. After seeing Lily into her ninth birthday and watching the gift viewing he went to work. I was angry with him for SO many reasons. Too many to go into. By 9am I was a blubbering ball of stress. Some days are BIG days when everything seems to get on top of me. I’m willing to bet that most people probably have days like these. Today was my meltdown day. I bet my mum didn’t expect to hear me crying down the phone to her at 9:05am. I don’t even really know why I was crying. Anyway. She came over to soothe her eldest daughter and together we went to the ENT doctor.

He studied Ivy’s ear, sucked it out, listened to all I had to say and then made his recommendations. (As arrogant as I find him, he also has quite a good sense of humour and a gentle way with Ivy).

1. Don’t let Ivy get sick.

2. Sell her on Ebay

3. Offer her up for medical research.

4 Continue the current treatment of hydrogen peroxide with an addition of a combination antibiotic/antifungal topical eardrop solution. See her in three weeks and take her adenoids out as soon as possible. (Still way too young at this stage).

We briefly touched upon the possibilty of a contaminated grommet being the root cause of Ivy’s problems, with the infection being persistent in one ear only. This notion was quickly dismissed however, as inconceivable. Given the doctor’s track record of perfection, the suggestion that he be in any way responsible simply could not be entertained.

Move along people, nothing further to see here…

So there you have it. Ivy, I think, is officially in his too hard basket.

While we were in his rooms a young girl came in with a cough and proceeded to bark all over Noah and Ivy. I looked at Mum. I didn’t need to say anything. Some call it pessimistic. I call it realistic. 

Noah has croup tonight, Ivy will follow, I’m sure. Give her 24 hours to brew something nasty up for me.

Ahhh, Winter. Ahhh Doctor’s rooms. David’s suggestion of putting Ivy and Noah in a bubble is sounding better with each passing cold!

Sorry.

This is going to be a long one but I promise I’ll pepper it with lots of photos.

First of all,

Happy Birthday Lily!  9 today! I can barely believe that my ‘bubba’ is nine.

Where do I start to tell you everything that we have been up to in the last week? To some it might not seem like alot. There have been no late night outings for couples, no romantic dinners for two, no weekend getaways but for some reason our days have all run into each other…a ball of activities, some so small but they all add to make up the chaos of the week just gone. I feel as though I have hardly seen David with his constant comings and goings into the early morning crispness and the dark Wintery nights. I have felt largely as though I was operating as a single parent (with a lodger) for most of the week but such is life when your husband works in Sydney and you live in the boonies.

We went to see our ECHN Dierdre. She is lovely and calming and grandmotherly and everything you want in a support person.

Ivy and Noah were evil. Just evil. They found the stand-on scales and proceeded to stand on them, sit on them, jump on them and wobble them back and forth until the constant clunk clunk clunk became too much for the caregiver and the mother. They thought it was funny. I did not. They pulled out every toy, whinged, ate every bit of food that I had in the baby bag, whinged some more, drank both drinks, banged at the door for release from the room and when it was not instant, they whinged and cried and wailed! I was never so pleased to leave a place. I felt clostrophobic and ashamed that my babies had essentially turned into monsters! Deirdre was sympathetic, allowed me my time and left me with assurances that there WAS help out there for Ivy’s sleep (or lack there of) issues. She listened to my doctor troubles, weighed and measured my now huge babies and asked all the right questions for an 18 month check up and yet I walked away tense and upset.

I am at a loss as to what is wrong with me. I look at them and feel happy and sad that they are growing up. The last 18 months haven’t been easy but at the same time, perhaps they were easier then than now. Toddlerhood does not suit Ivy and Noah well. They are full on ALL of the time. They move constantly and demolish all that is around them. Because there is such a huge gap between babies, perhaps I have forgotten what toddlers are like, perhaps I was not prepared this time.

The evening saw the three big kids home from their trip! Oh what excitement when they arrived, tired from their long bus trip home but buzzing with all the news of what they had seen. Ivy had not slept the night before and the day (see above) had been busy and messy. As we drove up to the school, looking for a place to park, I noticed a space…"Park there", I said to David, spying the bus zone, "it’s night time. It’s not as though there are going to be any buses coming through". David just looked at me. He had a bizarre look emerging from his face. A cross of the incredulous and ridiculous. "Poor Tiggy"! he exclaimed, "you must be tired". It took me a few seconds to work out why he was laughing at me. Of course there would be buses coming through. In fact two, with seventy something children aboard! I’m not blonde. Truly but I could have been on Friday night, with a ditzy comment like that ejecting itself from my mouth before my brain had time to retract it. Oh dear. My excuse was being so absolutely tired that I couldn’t think straight. I’m sticking to it!

And so we travelled home, our bus and house full again. It was nice. I felt contented. Until morning… when camp re - entry began. (insert twighlight zone music here)

It seems over the four days of travelling with peers that the children had forgotten how to do their chores. AJ heaved himself out of bed to go to soccer without lifting a finger to take out the garbage. Lily and Mal went to watch. Ivy and Noah and Imogen and Madeline and I made our way into town to pick up a few things. Everything was annoying me, from the way they were speaking (or should I say speakin’) to the way they walked. Slouched, hands in pockets, head down, feet shuffling…need I say more? Everything I asked of them seemed to be some form of torment, with eyes rolling and shoulders slumping. When we arrived home, I got more of the same from AJ. by Saturday night I was over it. My washing pile had gone from a healthy four baskets to a heart stopping ten, after they unpacked their bags! There was mess from one end of the house to the other and NOBODY was lifting a finger to correct the damage.

Unfortunately there was more of the same on the Sunday morning. Lily’s friend came over to go ice skating and that one little thing gave me the leverage I needed to bring things into order. If the rooms were not clean, there would be no outing. If the attitude didn’t stop, there would be no skating. Miraculously things started to get done. Amazingly we were out the door by 10:30 and even better was that all of us ended up having a great time. Noah and Ivy discovered hot chocolate and also that it tastes even better if it is someone else’s. Noah found a ride in aeroplane. You know the rides that you insert $2 and you get a minute of jiggling movement before it dies. At least this one was already out of order so the babies were left to do the jiggling themselves. They had a ball while the others skated around the rink. Mal (who couldn’t even stand in his skates) found a plastic chair and firmly planted his bottom on it. They use them on the ice for the younger children to find their balance, a bit like an old person’s walker. Maddy then pushed him around the ice. Their smiles were infectious. We went home and had the first of many cakes to celebrate Lily’s birthday.

Come Monday morning, I thought we would be back to normal and in the swing of things. How wrong I was!

While David made an early exit from the homefront, Noah was just waking up (very early for him). I asked the kids to get cracking as I wanted to be out of the house by 9:30 - 10am at the latest. Easy, right? No not easy when the children don’t want to get dressed, when they don’t want to do anything. When Noah decides at 9am that he wants to ‘go - carcar!’ right then and there and when I make a turn towards the bathroom (for a much deserved AND needed shower) has a complete meltdown. Banging on the door, wailing  ‘carcar carcar carcar!’ When Ivy joins in because she feels miserable and boys wrestle and yell at the top of their lungs. When Malachy has a severe case of Mondayitis (think shirt on backwards and shorts in 14 degree weatther. Think changing into ANOTHER pair of shorts when he is asked to put long pants on. Think shoes on the wrong feet and then crocs with socks on because he can’t be stuffed doing his shoelaces up himself). By the time we actually reached the car, it was a wonder I had any hair left!

Noah, who by that time had worked himself into a lather of baby sweat over getting in the blasted car, was in a horrible mood. He pulled Ivy’s hair and pulled at her jumper, so she was upset too. I was at my wits end by the time we reached the end of the street and also in a dither. I turned to the distraght Noah and used my assertive mummy voice…’Noah, that’s enough! Settle yourself down!’ and with that said Noah turned his head and fell asleep! Just like that. The rest of the trip to Sydney was blissfully quiet.

The reason for our trip was for Imogen, who had her first appointment at Westmead hospital with the orthodontist.

For those who don’t know, Imogen and David have a genetic condition called ectodermal dysplasia. It is something that effects the skin, teeth and the nails and the hair. When Immy was diagnosed it gave us an answer to many things but it also gave her dental care under the medicare scheme. Our last check up was well over a year ago and we were told then that because Immy’s case was mild that we may not make it to the top of the list for orthodontic care. We were very surprised when the letter came. The orthodontist, Peter was very nice. He spoke directly to Imogen and then to me. He described in detail what would happen for Immy over the next nine months. Braces first and building up of teeth. This will take a few years to complete but the end result, he felt, would be wonderful. I have to say I walked away from there very happy.

We had dinner with David’s parents and then made our way back home.

Ivy is up down, up down. I am getting sick of it, she must be too. This morning she was good, still had a green nose and a bit of a cough but her ear has been looking better and she has been so much happier in herself. It was cold and windy today and despite a beautiful wool beanie that Mum knitted, the cool air has done nothing for her health. After a visit to mum’s we hopped into the bus. Ivy was grizzly for a while and then fell asleep. Just before we got home she woke with a start and screamed hysterically. She continued to do this for the next hour. I checked her over to discover blood and more gunk coming from her ear. A phone call to the paed confirmed it was still all part of the infection but he wants to give her tummy a rest from the antibiotics. We will see what happens over the next few days. I bet I know what will happen. Do I sound jaded? You bet I do! I have given her pain relief tonight and hope that she will get a good nights sleep (bet I know how that’ll turn out too ). ‘Tis the season, they say and we all know how I feel about the season!

Just when I needed it some fluffy mail arrived from Maz, a gorgeous lady and fellow bellybelly girl. They are just adorable with monograms of Ivy and Noah’s first initial sewn on the bottom. Ivy and Noah have them on tonight and I’ve taken some photos for you to see. I was wrapped in them…actually Ivy and Noah were literally wrapped in them but I loved them, ALOT! Thanks Maz!

Lily turns 9 in 5 days

The big kids come home tomorrow

We are going to see Dierdre, our ECHN for Ivy and Noah’s 18 month check up (don’t forget the blue books, Tiff).

Noah, for the most part, has been his normal, happy self. We went for a walk today and he had to stop to peer into every drain, stomp on every patch of grass we saw and call out ‘weeeee!’ everytime his sister shimmied down a stop sign pole. This afternoon when Ivy was beside herself. Lily quietly took Noah outside and together they picked up sticks for the fire, which he flung at me one by one, whilst I was feeding said fire.

Lily has been a fantastic help while the big kids have been away. I have really enjoyed spending some quality time with her this week, especially in the evenings when the cherubs and Mal are in bed. She is growing up into a beautiful young girl (with flashes of tomboy thrown in).

This morning I got out of my nice warm bed when it was still dark and it WASN’T to get up to Ivy! (She was asleep in my bed already). I got up so that I could see Immy, Maddy and AJ off to Canberra and the Snowy Mountains for four days. They have not been away from home for that long and never with people other than grandparents. Sure, there have been a few friend sleepovers but that was only overnight. This trip is a big deal for all of us. I will miss them. I will have to trust that I have taught them right from wrong and that they will behave themselves for four long days. The house was already very quiet with three bodies missing. Lily, although gorgeous, is not the best communicator in the world. Either is Mal. Thank goodness there is Noah’s constant babble going on in the background or I would go completely mad.

I hope the kids have a good time. It is such a great expeience for them, especially to be able to see the snow. It gets cold in Ellalong but it never snows, the best our little country town has to offer up in the way of snow, is the black frost that hits us around July. It just doesn’t cut it, really. They have plans to build snow men and to have snowball fights. I hope the weather sees them coming and brews them up an adequate snow fall. If not, I guess there’s always the man made stuff.

I won’t be able to call them (no mobile phones allowed) and we have been told that public phone access is limited so I am guessing I won’t be hearing from them while they are away. I have hit the chocolate early this morning (terrible emotional eater that I am) to try to compensate, in fact I feel quite ill from all the white chocolate buttons that David has carelessly left sitting on the counter and I have just as carelessly eaten. He should know me better than that…hmmm…perhaps he does.

Ivy started her Augmentin Duo four days ago now and I *think* she is looking a little better today.  What do you think? Aside from the red raw nose from all the tissue usage, I think she has a bit more colour in her face and, yes, even a sparkle in her eyes. Please let this be the end of her chronic infection.

Well, the mobile phones were a hit! Imogen and Madeline have been begging, pleading and planning for a mobile forever. We kept saying no. Too young, not responsible enough, won’t use it for the right reasons… etc so when their birthday rocked around a phone wasn’t even on the list this year. When they opened their parcel from David and I they were VERY surprised.

Actually, it was my friend Mary who talked me into it. She presented to me the way her boys used theirs. It sounded sensible and in the end (and a few late pick ups, with girls in tears) we decided we would.

Today (three days post phone) I am sick of the unrelenting ring tones and the bleep bleep of the texting.  The girls are pleased as punch though and the ‘mobys’ have been a constant accessory around their necks. It IS kind of nice to see them enjoying their gifts. I just need a good set of ear plugs for the school holidays, I think…they tell me wax is good.

Tomorrow we are partying with 15 children (plus ours). Lordy me!

It was going to be a pamper party but our host was flooded out of her home and her materials waterlogged during last weekends storms. So now we are going to the movies to see Bridge to Terabithia. I read the book in year seven and remember balling my eyes out. Years on, I can’t remember the story at all. Afterwards we are going to Pizza Hut for a late lunch.

In preparation for the many pre pubescent girls descending on our house I scrubbed (as you do). I can see the dining table again, post Starstruck sewing and the bathroom is sparkling. David set about securing our kitchen cupboards with child locks and while he had the electric screwdriver in use he also pulled down Noah’s cot (’carcar’ - everything is a car at the moment) and retired it to the half of the garage that wasn’t squashed by the tree. He has done so well in the big boy bed. His only set back was last night when I asked David to check on him in the early hours. David went to Noah’s bed, after manouvering his way around a sleeping dog, to find it empty. After a few moments of half - asleep confusion, he discovered the sleeping dog on the floor was actually his son. At some stage during the night Noah had gotten out of his bed (on his way to us, we presume) but had not quite made it before sleep overcame him. Too cute! We have tucked him in EXTRA tight tonight.

One of the girls’ friends has been out of school all week so she was unaware of our change of party plans. Flooded in, we now know, they are camping out at the local pub. How did we find this out and track down the missing friend? An intricate phone network is in place that I, as a mother, am completely out of touch with. Maddy called someone, who had someone elses number, who knew someone who had the friend’s phone number. So Immy called the someone else’s number. She didn’t have the someone’s number, who had the friend’s number but she knew somebody else who knew that someone’s number and so Immy called her. When there was no response she sent a text to the somebody else. A few hours later that somebody phoned Immy and told her that the friend was flooded in but she would get a message to her to call Immy… confused? Not as much as I, dear readers! The mind boggles.

I thought I would tell you about our paed appointment.

It went…better than expected. Noah was good. Had made a great recovery from his cold and asthma attack. his weight was great and his development definately to his adjusted age (15.5 months), if not better. The paed was happy with him. He apologised for being away during the Tregenza sicky season and reassured us that he was going to have some urgent appointments available from July. All good news to my ears. Then he saw Ivy, with her goopy ear and her goopy nose and her lack lustre prescence. He conceded she was very ill and we talked about the different things we might try. For now we are going to address her ears and nose with a stronger antibiotic, stay with the hydrogen peroxide, give her flixotide for her asthma/chest and he will see us in two weeks. He also sent us for a chest xray, which showed fluid build up on one side. We are yet to confirm but believe she has pneumonia.

Today she is sick and cranky. The antibiotics have given her the runs and she is off her food but her nose was running clear for a large part of the day and her cough doesn’t seem as wet. Fingers crossed that this will do the trick.

Ivy is still sick. My poor sick bubba. Her ear is goopy again, her nose too and she is clingy and crying today. We called the ENT doctor and got our usual phone diagnosis. So, we will start the ear drops AGAIN.

Three and a bit weeks of illness and we still can’t get in to see the man.

The hydrogen peroxide fizzes and pops and she screams in terror everytime I have to put it in but I will do it because I don’t know what else to do, except take advice from phone doctors. I don’t know how anyone can think that telephonic diagnostics are ok. *SIGH* I feel beaten and defeated because I can’t keep the Ivygirl well.

We are going to see her so called paediatrician tomorrow. I wonder if anything good will come from that. I wonder if it is worth having a paed at all. I wonder if I could do a bridging course and become a paed… probably could but it would all be too late. Ivy and Noah would be grown up by the time I finished. So I will have to rely on these doctors for now.

This morning I scrubbed down our stove. Imogen came flouncing in, looked me up and down in all my pyjama clad beauty (now hot and sweaty from cleaning), sized up the now sparkling oven and said…’oh, look, you made a clean spot’. What am I supposed to make of that? Am I to assume that she believes she lives in squallor? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Nevertheless, my stove is shiny and I feel better for my troubles.

At lunchtime orange shirted men started milling about my yard. Soon a large crane appeared too. Not long after, the crane was pulling up trees that had fallen in the storm and the orange clad men were up the trees,with their chainsaws, speaking in loud authoritative voices and making weird, manly jokes. You could almost touch the testosterone, the air was thick with it! I phoned David, who quickly caught wiff of male hormones and begged me to take photos AND to send them to him via email so that he could spread the manliness around.

So I did. In the midst of my sick girl’s cries and taking photos for my husband, I noticed a strange thing. Noah (also very male) was running from window to window, watching the crane with much interest. I pointed out the orange clad man up the tree and he was transfixed. I watched him for a while, fascinated that he could be so enveloped in the happenings.. . and Ivy so disinterested in such masculine things. It is times like these that the difference in sex is SO obvious to me.

Night duty tonight and then tomorrow the celebrations begin. Immy and Maddy are turning 11. All those years ago, my body was starting the process of labour. Their birthday…my birthing day.

Where have eleven years gone? When did they grow up to be beautiful young women? It only seems like yesterday that they were Ivy and Noah’s age, gardening (pulling out every single plant) in the backyard, buck naked, except for their flourescent pink gum boots. Now they are into fashion and music. Instead of a dolly for their gift, they want a mobile phone. They are changing and growing every day. It pulls at my heart strings to know that they are walking into adolescence.

Not only are they getting older, so am I. I am not the person that I was 11 years ago. I don’t know if I am a better person. Certainly wiser.

I spoke too soon. About storms.

While the hurricane babies were whirring through my house the storms outside were brewing. On Friday it started raining. It was cold and wet and gusty winds whipped around the bus as I drove the kids to school that morning. It was just the beginning of a VERY long weekend. By the afternoon the electricity had gone out and my sausage casserole was doomed. The wind was so strong that it upturned our gazebo which flew into the air and lodged itself between the fence and the cubby house.

We had power again briefly but at 9pm the lights went out for good. We all went to bed but sleep was scant. The kids were scared, the babies were scared, heck, I was scared! The wind had increased to up to 90 kms and there were odd noises coming from outside as the storm lashed at our doors.

Ivy and Noah, not fairing too well with their colds, were restless and miserable.

By morning we could see the damage that had occured during the night. We had three trees down, one on our shed and on our fence and one on our garage. Our back yard was flooded and under our house flooded too. The farm at the end of our street was no longer a farm but a lake. Our neighbours and David all rallied to cut down the trees in the street that had fallen. In the mean time, I was left to tend to sick babies and feed tired, wild eyed children with no electricity, no hot water and a limited amount of supplies. When news of the next storm made its way to my ears my first instinct was to run! So, we packed up and made our way down to David’s parent’s house when the main road out opened briefly.

By Sunday evening the storms and winds had settled down, although many people in the area were still being evacuated and their homes flooded, ours was ok. 

When the power came back on, my first task was to wash all my cloth nappies. I had gone to the shops to get some disposables but when it came time to make the purchase, I couldn’t do it.

I reasoned that I could make the nappies last and they would be first in line for the washing machine. I balked at the papery feel of the ’sposies’ when I did put one on earlier that morning and missed the roundness of the cloth bottomed babies. So I put the packet back and spent my money on clothes for the kids.

We went to the Parenting Expo two weekends ago, with my good friend, Trish and her beautiful boys. It was a great day for shop - a- holics like me (not so good for David, who hates crowds and spending money). We bought these little magnets called Job Joggas. The idea is for the kids to take responsibility for their…responsibilities. They do their chores and move the completed tasks across to the ‘jobs done’ side. It is supposed to save me from having to nag and save the kids from my nagging!

So far it has worked! I have (hardly) had to nag at all. We decided that at the end of each week there would be a master Job jogga. This week it was AJ. THe boy who hates discipline and rules took the joggas to heart and completed all his tasks without me having to ask. What’s more, he went above and beyond his chores. They all have really. Maddy vacuumed and cleaned, Lily helped Mal with the recycling. Immy has been invaluable with the sick babies. For his trouble AJ has chosen a mini football with his favourite football team on it.

I love the Job Joggas. I hope it lasts. Here’s to the possibility of a nag free year!

Since the storm, Noah has not settled in his cot. He has cried and trembled and sobbed. Two nights ago I tried him in his big bed and he slept! Today he had his morning nap in his big bed and settled very well. So it looks as though the cot is on the way out.

It’s sad in a way to know that this cot is retiring for good. There will be no more babies for me and so, if we were to store Noah’s cot (which was originally bought for William) the next babies to use it would be grandchildren.

I guess it is time to let go of the baby days and relish in the little boy that Noah is becoming and the girl - child that is Ivy

Understatement of the Century.

I hate Winter. I know I’ve said it before here but just to clarify; I REALLY hate it.

I didn’t once upon a long time ago, pre children. Winter was a time to rug up, a time for hot chocolate and blankets on the lounge snuggled up close to David. Winter was a time for exciting Scouting activities and holidays away to even colder locations, open fires, hot casseroles, heaters in the car, slowly thawing out every part of you until just the tip of your nose was cold. Super soft downy quilts that you could snuggle right down in and not have to remove yourself from until the sun had warmed the crisp air to an acceptable level.

Now Winter is full of stuffy doctors rooms, just hot enough to breed a hundred thousand other germs that are not already wracking the smallest of my children. Winter is about tissues and mucous, hacking coughs, headaches, sore throats, Panadol, cough mixture, throat losenges, heat packs and nebulisers. It is about, crying, fragile babies and children, who ache and hurt. Winter, for me, is now about feeling inadequate in my abilities to keep my kids well and pushing fate to the end of her tether, to avoid hospital admissions.

Winter is about illness and getting through those long cold months with minimal assistance from unhelpful medical professionals, who are sick themselves and don’t really want to see one more sick child.

A parcel arrived from overseas yesterday. An ordinary brown box but inside that package were promises of sunshine and long afternoons by the pool. Bright, warm mornings and dinners on the verandah. Just clothes to some but when I opened the box I swear I could almost smell Summer.

I was never a Summer girl. In my younger years, Summer meant hot sticky days, too embarrassed to go swimming for fear that Green Peace would spy me, declare me a beeched white whale and lovingly roll me back into the ocean. Summer meant too much salad. It meant long, hot nights where you wake up in the morning sweating and feeling as though you never slept.

Summer now means at least three months, if not more, virtually, asthma and illness free. It means long legged children running around in the backyard with water pistols and swimming until it’s too dark to see. Summer means, happy, stress free faces, free from runny noses and deep dark circles under their eyes.  Summer means warm, healthy glows coming from radiant sunkissed skin, not the pale pallor of Winter.

I am sitting here, hoping that Ivy and Noah will sleep soon. They have been up for a large part of the night coughing and snuffling. It’s been three weeks and they are getting worse not better. Ivy’s ears are discharging goop again and Noah’s asthma is escalating to a point where I am seriously considering hospital. It’s not easy to see the good in Winter today. I would love to just pack everyone up and steal them away to the warmest part of Australia, right now- to a place where the sun could mend their red, chapped, wind blown lips and the fresh breezy air could blow away all the germs.

After the babies are asleep and I have finally had a shower I might just open that box again and set my imaginings free. An escape from reality might just help me get through today.

Yesterday was David’s 36th birthday. Happy birthday baby! Only four years until the big 4.0…is that why you seemed a bit flat today? Got a bit of the birthday blues? We’ve seen a few birthdays together.

I think the first birthday I celebrated with David was his 19th. A group of us ambushed him as he was sleeping with breakfast and the Simpsons game of life! Oh those were the days! Expensive ice cream and coffee, Saturday morning sleep ins and afternoons in our little Suzuki down at Whale Beach. We were so young. Don’t get me wrong, 36 isn’t old at all and our life is still full of wonderful days… they just take on a different form and they mostly include seven children.

Winter is here at my house. It is freezing in the morning, freezing in the night and I know it’s Winter because ALL of my children have colds. Yep, all of them, in differing levels of illness, are sick with runny noses, terrible coughs, sore ears, sore throats and asthma, lots of asthma.

Winter was heralded by my having to spend $140 on asthma medication alone. That is without the panadol and cough medicine (for the two who DON’T have asthma), the tissues and the lip balm. Now David is sick too. So I am on my own in making sure all the kids are rugged up and warm, medicated and Vicks Vapourised.

I hate Winter and I hate doctors. Especially paeds who are overseas during the Tregenza sicky months. Lord, give me strength to get through this season.

Yesterday we made our way back to the ENT doctor for Ivy’s follow up check up for her ears following what is now known in this house as the ‘great ear caper’. The doctor explained that Ivy has some immuno deficiency and neutropaenia and payed her a great deal of attention…finally. Now we have a plan for her ears and we know that the next few years will be bumpy. We know this because Imogen has the exact same thing. It’s not great news but it is good to know that the doctors might stand up and pay attention now. I feel validated and not so much like a crap mother, who can’t keep her baby well.

On another level, perhaps coming from my nursey side, it is all very interesting how genetics work. How something can skip a couple of kids and find its way to another. As if to trumpet her condition, Ivy has woken up with a temperature this morning after sleeping fitfully. Noah unexpectedly woke early too, so maybe they are both coming down with something. We’ll have to wait and see.

My house is a mess. I am the first to admit it and I am NO house cleaner. I hate it. It’s a very thankless task. In my house if you wash the floors in the morning, by lunchtime they need cleaning again. In my house, people are lined up at the toilet door to defoul your pristine sparkling toilet bowl the minute you finish the final scrub down. In my house there are clothes everywhere and my washing machine is constantly whirring in the background. My bedroom looks like a chinese laundry.

I’m getting a bit sick of it looking this way. I watched something on the Oprah show the other week where you clean out anything you haven’t touched for a year. I could do that. I could go room by room and do a massive clean. I AM going to do that but not this weekend. This weekend is mother’s day. It’s not a day to clean.

After three weeks of being off work in a sick leave related way, I am going back to night duty tonight. At 4am this morning after I had finally settled Ivy (from a midnight wake up) and then having Noah find his way into bed with us, the tears and frustrations came rolling out of me. I need to work. I need to do this because… (a) we need the money, (b) I like working as a midwife and when the kids are older I want to be able to work as an effective midwife, so I need to keep my foot in the door, (c) I get to be Tiffany the midwife, instead of Mum, wife, cook, slave, taxi driver, washer woman, counsellor, mediator, thing to cling to when we are frightened of the vacuum cleaner, thing to cling to when we are overtired and overwhelmed, pillow, leaning post, teddy bear. I just get to be me and I am recognised and appreciated for my skills. I don’t ever feel as though I am being taken for granted, even though it’s only night duty and I am not doing much for the women and their babies, they still like me for me… did I mention we need the money? LOL

So, I have enjoyed having the time off and not having to stay awake for 48hours before I can rest. I’ve loved being there for the kids, have enjoyed their company and having some degree of organisation about my day but it all has to start up again for the above reasons. My dream is to resign and to study and to start an antenatal outreach programme in the boonies. A house, where women can come for a chat and coffee, to talk about their pregnancies, have a check up, come if they are worried or scared or if they just need reassurance. I would love to be a midwife in that context.

I’m sure it will be fine once I’m there but the night duty dread is slowly taking over my thoughts today. The only other thing I can think about is that I have to teach ten kids how to do scrapbooking tomorrow on no sleep… it could be interesting.

Maddy is fine. Her haemoglobin levels are a little low but otherwise all is good with her. Nothing that some iron tablets can’t fix. PHEW. The lumps are a result of prolonged infection. The Gods were smiling down on this family today.

Calling ALL car fairies!!! my bus has broken AGAIN. If you would be so kind as to remove and replace it with a brand spanking new bus (silver or blue for preference but REALLY not fussy at this stage) I would be most appreciative. Thanking you in Advance.

ARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! 

Yesterday Noah had his frenulum ligated or, in layman’s terms, his tongue tie released. No longer does my boy have a forked tongue when he tries to stick it out and waggle it at his sisters (and sometimes his mother)!!!! Oh beautiful flat tongue that can now make it out, past his bottom lip, tongue who may now be able to help Noah use a sippy cup and a straw, that will allow him to lick an ice cream and eat and speak properly.

It all went swimmingly.

I felt bad for not having it done earlier but yesterday, I was glad I waited. Noah took it all so well AND charmed the pants off the recovery nurses (thanks again Newcastle Private girls). That boy is a real blessing.

Today he is as happy as always. It’s as though he never had it done. The world needs more easy going babies.

There is nowhere else in the world that I can go to the toilet to discover an Action Man staring down at me from a toilet paper pyramid. My kids can really make my day. make me smile, forget my worries with something so simple. Oh to be a child again.

We have had such a busy, busy week here. My head is spinning. We have had sickness and lots of blood tests. First for Ivy and then for Maddy. Maddy found a lump in her neck some time ago. It hasn’t gone away. She has some other things going on too - tired, bruising, nose bleeds. She’s lost 6kg. Her paed has ordered some tests and so we have gone through the motions of having them done. My heart will not let it steal itself into thinking the worst. It’s most likely nothing. A prolonged infection and the tests are just a better to be safe than sorry kind of thing. I guess we’ll find out, when I ring the doctor.

Noah, after a month of pretending to walk, has finally taken the plunge and is pottering around the house, arms out like chicken wings, for balance. It’s very cute to watch but another reminder that my babies are growing up way too fast. Last week I let them feed themselves a yoghurt for the first time, with hilarious results. Thankfully it was the end of the day and I could strip them both down and put them in the bath and their yoghurt infused clothing through the wash.

Ivy in true baby girl fashion has a fetish for shoes and handbags. She follows me around most days with shoes in her hands grizzling for me to put them on her. They are not necessarily HER shoes, anybody’s will do. She says "schoo..schoo, (pushes shoe into nearest family member’s hand) SCHOOOOO!!!!!"  Very cute MOST of the time.

I have had a bit of a cloth nappy binge this week. My ultimate in retail therapy. Sad for some, heaven for others. I purchased 4 new Baby Beehind Bamboo nappies, two Lou Lou nappies and some Twins In Cloth nappies. Mum has been busy too. She has been knitting madly and produced a gorgeous soaker for Ivy and for Noah, she has almost finished a pair of blue and red longies. Oh, drool. I LOVE my mum! Next on the nappy making for her are some cave man nappies. I have cut some faux fur and some pink fleece, which she is going to line with PUL and put some bamboo fleece in for the absorbent layers. I’m hoping for a cute yet functional nappy for all occasions!

Just wanted to share also, my kids’ obsession for Beanie Bears. I took some pics of them yesterday, with all of the bears. Just when I think we have MORE than enough bears in our home, more find their

way in!!! I think the girls first started collecting when it was more fun to get toys for chores, rather than money and it has continued on as a love for all things Beanie.

Not much else to write about at the moment. We are on the countdown for Kelly’s impending birth, so not wanting to go too far away. One of the girls Dee, from Belly Belly, came out to talk to Kel about VBAC. I think it was really good to get the perspective from someone who has done it successfully. I was really grateful to Dee for it. I’ve told her before that she is my VBAC pin up girl! Someone I really admire.

Let’s start this entry off on a happy note. One of my friends brought around an old, blue, plastic, ride in car. I think this car has gone through a few midwives’ children. It’s old and battered and has pieces missing. The steering wheel is wobbly and there is a piece of rope tied to the front so that it can be pulled along. Noah LOVES it! We have had the car for just under a week and there has not been a day when I haven’t found him sitting in it. He will not relinquish it for anyone, though many have tried. It is the first thing that Noah has ever claimed for himself. His ‘carcar’. On the first day of his love affair with ‘carcar’ I found him, after all the kids had dragged him around all day, planted in front of the television. Anyone who knows Noah will find this amazing as he doesn’t usually stay still for anything and yet, there he sat in his car for over an hour before he demanded that Lily take him for another ride. In the end I had to pick him up, kicking and screaming out of ‘carcar’ and into his highchair for dinner and a bath. Within minutes of these tasks being completed, I found him, once again in the blue car. It is the first thing he asks for in the morning and if we are out he will say to me ‘go - car’. He loves it more than anything else. His grandmother thinks he is a petrol head. His father thinks it is cute and funny. I am amazed at how these things are woven into the male being. The other day I found him in the car saying ‘Broom, Broom!!!’ How did he know that? No one taught him as far as I know. Is it a male thing, that they just know about cars and have a love for them, even from a really young age? At least it will make birthdays easy, knowing that my boy loves all things vehicle.

Our bus came back to us on Friday, our wallets over $1000 lighter! It came home with a dire warning that we need to get rid of it as there was more breaking in the old bus and we would soon see our purses emptier. Dave is now scouring all the internet spaces and car lots that sell buses. How we are ever going to afford a new bus is beyond me but I guess I can let the man dream.

Today I tried to get Ivy some more medical attention from her paed ( Dave says I can’t mention names - for fear of being sued so for naming purposes he shall be known as Micky Shortergan) After a nightmarish week before where we finally saw Micky on the Thursday, only to have him charge us a hundred bucks for nothing and then turning around the very next day to see the ENT doctor who put the grommets in her ears (for naming purposes will be known as Associate Professor Skippy) only to be told that there was nothing in her ears and to go home and get over it, Ivy spent the weekend getting sicker and sicker. With no antibiotics and no drops to fight off her imaginary infection, by Sunday she had temperatures in the 39s. Come monday we thought we would be able to get some help. You’d think that, wouldn’t you? If it were your baby, you would do everything you could to get her better. I’m sure if these doctor’s children required medical attention, they would NOT be fobbed off. They would expect the very best in care, right? Ok, forget that they are doctors and that they could probably treat their own babies for just a second… they would want them to be seen. That’s all I wanted. For someone to see her, concede she was very ill and treat her accordingly. Easy, right? Wrong.

We phoned Micky Shortergan, who promptly told us that Ivy was not his patient and not his problem to refer back to Skippy, as he put her grommets in. Fair enough. Even though I beg to differ. I think she IS his patient and his problem but anyway. He IS a paediatrician after all and shouldn’t a paediatrician look after his child patients? Besides that, he referred her onto Skippy for care, so doesn’t Ivy become his problem by default? I digress…

We called Skippy’s rooms to be confronted with an answering machine stating that his rooms were closed for the day. GREAT. So we called back Micky. His receptionist said she would get him to call us back. In the meantime we tried to get into our local medical centre. Ok, if you are happy to wait three days and see the doctor nobody likes. *SIGH* Of course the paed never called back and Ivy is still as unwell as ever. Nothing has been resolved regarding her imaginary ear infection. My poor babygirl.

Tomorrow is a new day however…bring on tomorrow!

Here are some positive affirmations for tomorrow;

tomorrow the big kids will be back at school (YAY)

tomorrow I WILL speak to a competent doctor and I WILL get Ivy the help that she needs

tomorrow I won’t feel so angry and bitter with the medical community up here in the boonies, I may even thank one of them

tomorrow I will feel like a good mother again and I won’t have to stress about my baby being so sick anymore.

Ahhh, tomorrow.

Gee, it’s been a while and so much has happened. Where do I start?

Ivy is still unwell and pretty miserable on it today. I feel so sad for her that I can’t get proper care for her ear. David is trying to contact the paed again today, so we’ll see what happens there. Not that I would be able to get to his rooms because our bus broke down last Thursday and it is still off the road and in Ford at Cessnock…waiting for a miracle…. waiting, like Jesus, to rise again on the third day.Personally, I don’t think it will. I think it has been on it’s last legs (or wheels) for the last few months, driving on borrowed time, so to speak. *SIGH* I need some rich relative to magically appear or a car fairy to deposit a new bus on my doorstep, that would be better, then I wouldn’t feel like I owed anyone anything!

Anyway, coming back to reality, now. The bus lost its power steering, its air conditioning and its temperature control on Thursday, only months after some pump had gone in it and we forked out to replace one plastic piece of pipe for an amazing amount of money. The mechanic near David’s parents’ tried to fix it and was unable to get the parts so sent us home, only for something else to break on the way. Leaving us driving down the main street of Cessnock with white smoke billowing from the front and that horrible burnt rubber smell trailing behind us. I think it’s safe to say I hate the bus. We used to have a beautiful new Pajero. It was so lovely to drive. I miss it, although I wouldn’t trade back my two babies for a nice car. I’ll take the cherubs anyday.

So, we are pretty much stuck until it’s fixed. That’s funny because I have appointments and excursions all week that will now need to be cancelled. I don’t take kindly to having to stay at home at the best of times. I don’t do cabin fever well.

Last week was a pretty good week, aside from the run around from the inadequate medical profession up here in the boonies. On Thursday (the day the car died) we drove down to Sydney in the afternoon but before that we went to Imogen and Madeline’s first ever dance eisteddfod. It was a real eye opener to the seriousness of the dance community up here. OMG there were stern-faced, die-hard dance mothers everywhere and the girls who were performing were even more so! I am NOT a dance mother. I don’t think I ever will be. Slap me please, someone, if I ever go down that path! I can’t imagine devoting my weekends to trapsing all over the countryside with costumes and make up kits on trollies and kitting out the bus with wardrobe rails and change rooms for my kid’s two minutes of (local) fame!!!! I can’t ever imagine Immy and Maddy ever being so serious about dance comps that they don’t smile and talk with the other competitors! Some of the girls were like performing seals, getting up time and time again with well polished routines and plastic smiles on their heavily painted faces. It was kind of creepy in an American girl’s beauty pagent, kind of way.

The girls got in there though, in their usual, happy, give anything a go way and danced their stripey knickerbockered legs off. They smiled and generally had a wow of a time. They were nervous but what kid isn’t when they are going in a competition. I was very proud of them. So was Kelly, their teacher. They were great. As first timers too, they were only one point off a highly commended, so Kelly and I took that as a great achievement! I’m happy for them. If they want to do those kinds of things, I’ll support them 100% but only while it’s fun and they are enjoying themselves. It shouldn’t be work and as Kelly said, if their heart isn’t in it, the judges can tell and they won’t do well. They’ll lose their spark. I think that’s kind of sad that it gets to a point that the children will keep on doing something they are not enjoying just to please their mothers. The next big question is why do mothers want to push their kids in that way? Is it to relive some childhood desire that they once held for themselves? Who knows.

Sydney; We stayed the night at David’s Parents house. The kids had a ball. They love spending time with Grandma and Pop and the adults are all too aware that it’s borrowed time now before the teenage years. Before they don’t want to spend time with the elders in their family. We all take what we can get and relish in it. I left what Pop lovingly described as ‘the madhouse’ to babysit for my sister in law. Our gorgeous niece was born last December and my gift offering to her exhausted mother, for her birthday, was a night out with her hubby and no baby. I have to say, I really enjoyed just looking after one little one. I gave her a bath and a cuddle and she (eventually) went off to sleep. Then it was quiet. For the remainder of the evening. I had to get up and check on the baby a couple of times, so unfamiliar to the quiet, was I. Of course, Mum and Dad weren’t out for long. I remember the first time David and I went out without babies. It was wierd and I just wanted to go home. Nice too but so far removed from normal life for us.

The next day was Mal’s 9th birthday and we decided we would take him to the Easter Show this year. It had been three years since we had ventured into the chaos of the show and that was sans babies, so this was going to mean organisation plus!!!! It was a fantastic day! Everyone enjoyed themselves and thoroughly worn out, we trekked back to our base and crawled into bed at around 10:30 pm. We did the animal walk and the babies got to pat a pig and we saw the sheep being judged. (I always find it ironic that we travel from the country to the city to view the country). Mum bought the girls some beautiful freshwater pearls and Lily got this cat, in a bed, that when you turn the darn thing on, it makes a breathing motion! Trust Lily to pick something like that! Mal went straight for the Hotwheels display in the Kids World tent, while the girls and AJ made a beeline for the Beanie Bears! Maddy was lucky enough to win a limited edition Easter Show bear(only 300 worldwide) so she was thrilled!

My personal favourite is always the fruit and veg pavillion, with all the different stands and free taste testing. David dared me to try an 18 years and over only  10+++++ chilli from the Chilliman stall. It blew my head off. Literally. I was hallucinating, I’m sure. My head was throbbing, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was that hot. I won’t buy into Dave’s dares again. Never ever. Lesson definately learnt there. We did the showbags and went to the arena for the night activities but by then Ivy and Noah were so over being in the carriers and just wanted to get up and wander around. Very hard when you are sitting on a steeply sloped grassy bit. When made to sit down, Noah produced an almighty, highpitched squawk, that was driving everyone (especially me) ballistic and with Ivy trying to do a runner every time I looked the other way, it all got a bit too much for this weary Mum and we made a hasty exit. Of course Gran couldn’t let the kids go home without one ride and I think that in hindsight, it was the perfect end to a wonderful day. There were no lines to have to wait in, so the kids were straight on. Because it was the end of the day, the ride operator gave them an extra long go. With balloons and bags and very tired feet we made our way home.

See ya Easter Show! See you in another three years…maybe.

Ok, Easter is officially over in this house! If I ever see, smell or taste another chocolate egg again, it will be too soon! UGH, chocolate overload, my friends is NOT a pretty sight in a thirty - something woman. OOOOHHHH, my belly. I know, I know, no sympathy for self inflicted wounds. It was fun until last night. Then, I just needed for all chocolate to be gone from our home. I am seriously starting the cabbage soup diet on Wednesday! Anything to get away from chocolate. I need to purge all those impurities from my system, so that I can be ready…for Christmas, the ultimate day in over indulgence!!!! LOL! Seriously though, I am sick of chocolate. If I had to gage seratonin levels due to eating of said indulgence, I would be waging a bet that I would be considered an EXTREMEMLY happy person, right now. I’m sure those levels of happy hormone are dangerous.

Had a nice quiet, rainy day. The boys had their access visit with their mother (always a not fun time for the family afterwards) and the girls, babies, Dave and I pottered off to the local video store, where the rest of the town had already been, so we were only able to borrow the DVDs that nobody wanted, Oh and the kids flicks that we have seen 1000 times before. No, I jest. We did get Charlotte’s Web. When I watched it, all I could wonder was…is Dakota Fanning aging at all???? I think that girl is one of those kids who is never going to grow up. She’ll be 30 and still look six!  The girls enjoyed it and another pre teeny type movie called Step Up. Immy, my little drama, dancing, all round performer, romantic, thought it was "the best movie she’d ever seen". (She says that with every movie that has a hunky male dancer in it, I’ve noticed). We ate fish and chips and generally slothed around the house.

I want to tell you about the recent move in bath time activities in this house. It used to go something like this; The big kids run a bath and take turns going in, as pairs, sometimes topping up the water with warmer additions. While this is progressing, I feed and bath the babies and by the time they have had a little play, one of the big girls are usually out to help me dry and dress the pair.

This is how it has gone of late. I ask the big kids to start the bath routine. No one moves. The babies get fed and I start their bath routine, continually reminding the others that dinner will be ready soon. Still there is little movement until I redirect their energy (or lack there of) into running the tap for baths. Most nights I get asked if they can skip…what is that? As a pre teen, I think you are at your smelliest. It’s a time when a kid REALLY needs to wash, why do they suddenly think they can get away without cleaning themselves???? When I argue my point, I am then asked if they can shower instead of bath and even though I constantly remind them that a shower uses up to ten litres of water a minute, they do not budge. Another new pre teen thing. I compromise and say a short one only and all girls in at once and then both boys. Anything for five fresh bodies at the dinner table. Most nights they are pretty good but some nights I shudder to think what my family is doing for the water supply in NSW.Not only am I getting rebellion in the 9 - 11 year old bracket, the babies have decided that they like to move and splash and try to turn on taps while I am bathing them. Sometimes, I think I come out of the bathroom wetter than them! They have started this game (for want of a better word) where as soon as I get onto my hands and knees, they splash me. If I stand up, they get up, throw their legs up and over the top of the bath and yell "geeowwwwt" (get out in twin speak). I get down again to wash them and immediately they start in with the splashing and the squealing and the giggling. Sometimes they slip and slide and my heart jumps into my throat but mostly the are limbre little bath pixies, who move so quickly, it’s sometimes hard to catch them to wash their crawling feet (where the tops of their feet are blackened with floor mank) or to wash the buttery sandwich leftovers out of their hair. Some nights I am exhausted just from bath time alone, mostly I laugh though and enjoy the moments. Knowing, all too well that there will come a day in 9 - 11 years time, when they won’t want to bath, pretend to bath, skip their bath or when I say bath, think I mean shower.

My next gripe for today is about girls not wanting to brush their hair over  the school holiday period. Ok, I understand that it gets a little old having your hair raked up into a ponytail every day and reminded that it is nit season for 90% of the school year and I DO allow them some slack when school break comes but really, don’t they know that if they don’t brush their hair for a number of days that it WILL get knotty and if it does become encrusted with dredlocky knots, that when your mother comes along to brush them out it IS going to hurt. ALOT.

My mum used to say to me, you can’t put an old head on new shoulders, that kids need to learn the hard way. Ok, but can’t they learn the hard way with shiny, neatly brushed hair? Is that too much to ask? *SIGH* I guess I’m missing the point here. I know Mum is right, they will learn through their own mistakes but why can’t they do it later, when they are older and living in their own flat, with a housemate or a boyfriend to (kindly) brush out their knots, why now, when there are three long haired beauties (and another one rapidly growing hers) and a mother (whose hair is VERY short) who just doesn’t get it???

When my own long hair knotted ouches got too much for my mum, when I was in fifth grade, strangely enough, she took me to "Bruno’s" and had it all cut off in a time when being able to sit on your hair during school was REALLY cool. I can’t seem to do that to my girls. I sigh and moan and carry on but when it all boils down to it, I like their hair long. Whinge two over.

Finally my last purge of disgust comes when I discovered that Ivy’s newly grometted ears (actually only her left) were discharging blood and pus. Of course it was a public holiday. For city dwellers, this probably wouldn’t pose much of a problem but for those of you living in the boonies, like us,it’s easy to understand how something as simple as going to a GP, for a script of antibiotics, to fight off obvious infection, can become a living nightmare.

To start with there was NOTHING open in Cessnock. We phoned the hospital, to ask if we should present there. We knew what the problem was, it wouldn’t take long. Their answer?

"We are very busy, if you think she needs to come in, then you’d better bring her up but remember, this is an emergency department. We can’t give you anymore information over the phone". That was it. What were we supposed to do with that? She was by no means an emergency but if we didn’t do something she could become one.

So we then moved onto the next hospital (remember, we are out in the boonies here, friends) they, at least had an after hours GP service but the receptionist told us our area was not covered and so we could either present to ED or have a phone conversation with an RN. We took the RN. She was very direct and thought that young Ivy best be seen by a GP. She phoned our local hospital who gave HER the exact same speel as us. When she came back to the phone, she offered us a long wait at said hospital or an appointment at the next town hospital (3/4 of an hour away) to see a doctor. We took the appointment. That went very smoothly and with our script in hand we set about finding a pharmacy. Easy, right? No, not easy at all. We had to drive another twenty minutes to find one. On the way home I realised that Ivy’s secretions had not been swabbed and that was a bugbear with her paediatrician, that they never swabbed! I ummed and arrhed for a while but in the end I started the antibiotics and gave her another dose of panadol. I guess I’ll deal with my lack of swab results when next I see the paed!

Wow, this has turned into a monster post. Good thing there are photos to break it up!! LOL. It’s late and with all that off my chest, I think I am going to bedfordshire!

… when the Terrible Tregenzas make their way into Taronga for the day! I don’t know who was watching who yesterday when we went to the zoo, we went to see the chimps and as I was standing there, with my wild brood of children, it suddenly occured to me that it was crazy taking the zoo to the zoo. I didn’t need to go all the way into Sydney to see the monkies’ antics, I could have stayed at home and just observed my own children for a few minutes!

Seriously though, we had a fantastic day. A special celebratory day, a rare field trip, in memory of our very special boy. The sunshine was gorgeous and the view was amazing. The kids had a lovely time, even the babies. We went to see the tigers. Everytime one of these massive beasts roamed past the window, Ivy yelled out ‘cat, CAT!!!!’ and because of all the exotic animal smells that were around, Noah was constantly questioning whether he had a ‘pppprooo?’ (poo in Noah language). We saw a porqupine, which Immy described as half wombat half echidna and Maddy thought looked like a wombat in a tutu! Lily loved the iguanas and the boys just enjoyed every single thing. Their eyes were bright and happy and clear, their smiles infectious. At 3:06pm, one of the girls started to quietly sing Happy Birthday to our angel boy and just as quietly, everyone joined in, including David. It was just one of those really memorable days and was well worth the effort.Maddy was right, William would have LOVED the zoo.

We got home very late and slept in this morning, which would have been ok, except that Ivy had to be at Newcastle Private at 9:15am for her grommets. Thankfully,a good friend, Tracey, had offered to mind Noah and the big kids all had school.

You know those people who come into your life at just the right time and are everything that you prayed for? Well, Tracey is one of those people. When I was floundering with PND and everything else that goes along with mothering babies, Tracey magically appeared. She was one of the girls’ friend’s mothers and I didn’t know her very well to begin with but we have become very good friends and I will be forever grateful that she came into my life when she did. I am very lucky that way. There are always good people coming into my life.

Anyway, we got there. Ivy was not a happy camper because she had been Nil By Mouth and had missed out on breakfast (God forbid that Ivy miss out on ANY kind of food but to miss out on brekkie is like missing out on Lotto, when you had the winning ticket, as far as Ivy is concerned)! She rallied well though when everyone started commenting on how cute she was and then when her mother had to put on a silly theatre hat, she was all smiles!

I did ask the anaesthetist to give her a long acting drug, to help her sleep for a long time. Sadly, he thought I was joking. Instead he gave her something which induced a kind of hyperactivity that I had never seen in a little girl. The recovery nurses, although lovely, could not get rid of her fast enough!!! She ran them ragged! Wouldn’t let them put the oxygen probe on her finger or toe and kept ripping all her name bands off, wriggling, dancing, swinging. Oh Ivy!

I have to say I was so impressed with the whole hospital experience. The doctor was nice, professional yet kind, the anaesthetist efficient. The nurses, lovely. There was none of the usual operating theatre pomp and circumstance. (Being a nurse/midwife, it really means something when you, as a parent, are treated well) The we are better than you mentality was just not there. Ivy went in dressed in her regular clothes, no scary gowns and when I went to recovery to be with her, I didn’t have to gown up. It made the whole surgery process alot easier and less overwhelming for the both of us, I think.

Now I just need to get rid of the kid’s terrible colds and asthma and all will be well. Noah is very wheezy still and all of the kids, yep, all seven, have had heavy head colds for the last week. I think I am thankful that the school holidays are rapidly approaching. We all need a break from routine.