Scan story

Scans.. loved them. Loved them so much I had to pay for the fancy 3d one, just so I could see him one more time before I met him for real. I had three scans.. so I'll do three stories!

12 week Scan

K was away again (when was he not? lol) so I went on my own. I could have taken G, but I was suffering from First Scan Terror. You know, the terror that you've imagined the 19 positive tests and you're not actually pregnant. Drank the obligatory 19 glasses of water, and crossed my legs to wait my turn. I was informed that my bladder was too full, and could I let a little out? No mean feat, but success acheived. And then that wait. Gel on tummy, itchy paper stuffed into best knickers, stomach still completely flat except for the bump on you can see.. and the 2 minute silent wait. The silence that stretches forever until the sonographer deigns to tell you that there is a heartbeat. And legs and arms and a head. Anyway, here is baby IT (as was then) arms, legs and head..Aww, it was waving..

20 week Scan

I loved this one. It was the 10th August and the day before my birthday. A perfect present. I took G with me, as I really did want her to be involved, and thought it would kill any feelings of jealousy stone dead.

Learnt my lesson from the time before and didn't drink too much water. Still wore my best knickers though, and this time I *did* have a bump that would be seen by someone other than me. She did all the measurements, and then asked if we wanted to know the sex. I did, I wanted the surprise, but wanted it then! I asked the sonographer to whisper it to G, so that she sould be the very first person to know whether she was having a baby brother or sister. She squealed ridiculously loudly, which was how I knew he was a boy. A sister didn't really appeal.. So.. here.. the 20 week baby boy:

An alien in the third pic, obviously.

28 week 3d scan

Just brilliant. Well worth the money. It cost around £100 with the photos I think, and I got a cd with all the pictures and some real time movement on. I cried through the whole thing. G sang to my belly at one point, and he turned directly towards her and listened. Cried again. Stupid hormones. And the pics.. the last one.. well.. I asked my bump to confirm (before I decorated his room and bought boy clothes) to just confirm that he was actually male. An obliging baby.. he did..

Shy baby..

Not so shy baby boy.. G insisted in having a proper print of this picture and taking it into school to show all her friends. K was just proud..

K (who is not feeling at all broody now.. damn you Lynda.. why scan pictures when he's about to turn two and the whole baby thing seems so long ago.. )

The picture of my discontent

Just, before I start. Here.. this is what I'm living with. It's like a dark shadow cast over the house. Behind the door, I know that this mess is waiting for me. And it's driving me crazy. I can no longer use the upstairs bathroom as I have to pass by the door. I'm telling you, the mess haunts my dreams.

Right, neuroses done. Now let's talk about today.

Last night I had a mini argument with G - can you guess what about? She went to bed in a huff, and I accidentally overdosed on droswy cough syrup. I'm positive I bought the non drowsy one, but ah well. Woke up at 8.10, on the sofa, freezing all the way from top to tippy toes and shouted at G to get up. My poor girl had already got up, dressed, breakfasted herself and left, all without waking me. Felt horrible. Really horrible. So resolved to do something nice for her. Something really nice... for her.

Lal ate breakfast again, and today Louie's World taught him body parts. Not dismembered ones, there was a picture of a boy. Now why is it that I've been labelling his parts for months now, but when Louie says it, Lal can suddenly point to his head, legs, arms and feet. Pfft. I just have contrary children.

What else? And why do have such a terrible memory?

Ah yes, G had another detention tonight. Her crime? Her top button wasn't completely done up. Pfft. I texted and reminded her that I would be picking her up from school at 4.30 and we'd go straight to the Stop Smoking Clinic - free patches.. woohoo. 4.20, Lal and I got in the car, named a few body parts, sang Bob the Lally, can he fix it, and arrived at the school at 4.31. No G. No G anywhere. Ring her mobile, switched off. Ring again, still switched off. Ring again and my phone tells me that I have used all my credit. I turned around to tell Lal that we were going home, and he'd fallen asleep. At 4.45. Nooooooooooo. Did you hear the shout of terror? He'll never sleep tonight. Finally, at 4.50, the phone rang. My next door neighbour who informed me that G was with her and that she'd gotten a lift home with a friend. The air in my car turned ever so quietly blue as we made our way home through the rush hour traffic.

It's 8.30 and the 26 minutes sleep Lal had in the car has meant that he is still awake. He's in his cot, with the side up and has thrown every single blanket and pillow out in frustration. Bedtime bear was just launched into the hall. It's going to be a very long night.

And after I was nice to G and returned her room to it's former glory as well. Hands up who knew I'd break and hang the damn clothes up myself?

K xx

Nagging, breakfast and sigs

"G.. sweetie, could you hang up the clothes in your bedroom please? Thanks love."

So, today. You'll never believe it. Lal ate breakfast. Actually ate it. Cereal, two yogurts, a fruit pot, a packet of raisins and two gingerbread men. I was that excited, I rang Hushy to celebrate. She was once again screening my calls, so to pay her back I rang back every 15 minutes for two hours. I finally stalked her into submission, she answered and we chatted (whilst she made soup.. from scratch not from a can... incredible) Where was I? Oh yes, breakfast. He ate it! For the first time since July. JULY. Breakfast. What a fantastic Monday.

"Jogs, don't forget to hang those clothes up please love.. you still haven't done it. Thanks sweetie."

What else did we do today? Well, there was breakfast, the Hushy call.. umm.. oh yes, we watched Baby Tv. Louie's world to be precise. Lal's speech is coming along nicely, if you don't need the first half of words. On Louie's World, a nice lady says "A stereo system/television/remote control/ etc etc etc (today was Electronic devices - yesterday was clothes, it varies..) (can you put brackets in a quote?) (probably not) " She then says "A stereo system.. where's the stereo system, there's the stereo system. A stereo system." And then goes onto the next thing.

Lal can now say:

sion - television

stum - stereo system

trol - remote control

ter - computer

And woe betide me if I say that he's said sion when it was actually stem. I get that look of disappointment. You know the one..

"Georgia, if you haven't hung those clothes up by the time I get upstairs...."

What else? I have a niggling cough that I am trying to cure by smoking more.. it's not working yet though, I'm going to have to persevere.

Ooh oh.. caught the G out again. Suddenly remembered at around 2 that it was Monday and that she *may* have Cross Country after school, so texted her to confirm. At 3.35 I got a text back saying "yes." At 4.20 she rang me to say that she was on her way home.. our conversation:

"Mum.. I'm 5 minutes from town, I'll be home in about 20 minutes."

"Ok sweetie.. you're early.. was there no cross country?"

"No, there was.. but not many people went, so we finished quicker..."

Riiiight.. I get it. Apparently, if fewer people than usual go.. it takes far less time to run 3 miles. Upon cross examination on her arrival home, it was established that she had failed to attend the after school club and had decided to ride the Number 42 bus' entire route - just because her friend lives at the last stop. Marvellous.

Lal didn't nap today. By 5.25 he was falling asleep into his (non eaten) dinner. He perked up slightly in the bath at 6, but then mistook the bubbles for a pillow and we had a mini drowning incident. He's been asleep since 6.30 and I'm fully expecting his internal alarm to be loud and cheerful at 4.30..am. Even more marvellous.

"Georgina Mary Alice. I picked the clothes up from the pit you call your room. I washed the clothes. I dried the damn clothes. I ironed them and put them on hangers. The ONLY thing I asked you to do is to hang them in your wardrobe. That's it. I didn't send you out to pick the cotton and hand sew them. I asked you to hang them up. I will be upstairs in 3 minutes. If it's not done I'm taking your computer, your phone, your bed and your life... get it? 3 minutes."

And finally.. I'll show off. Not only my monsters, but my fab new Hushy sigs..

K xx

(who is sneaking back into journalling.. well hopefully..)

Ablutions

Had a bath this morning. A proper bath..with bubbles and everything. Not just a quick dip in and out whilst keeping one eye on Lal as he destroys.. well destroys everything.

G was (nominally) watching him, so I took myself away. The thing is, I think I've ruined forever my biochemistry and I don't think my skin or body will ever recover.

It didn't start off too well. Tesco are delivering the shopping between 3-5, so will obviously get here at 5.01, so we only had night time bath stuff. Dreamy Skin by Johnson and Johnson (see BC? Advertising too..) now this contains Moonglow and guarantees that I will fall asleep quicker and easier. But it's day so I don't want to do that! Quick... shower gel.. Kick Start with Ginseng and Guarana, that'll do it. I am now supposed to be feeling revitalised and energised.. good good.

Of course, as it's been a while since I've had a proper bath, and with no man to impress, I haven't shaved for a while.. time to get out the trusty, rusty razor and attempt to tame the legs. Use the Kick Start as a foamy froth and cut 26 tiny little bleeding scars into the legs. Painful but worth it.

Eyes fall upon the White Musk Soft Satin Body Polish (or bits of sand in creme) and decide that that looks good. Forget all about the 26 bleeding cuts until the exfoliator enters the holes and agony ensues.

Forget all about the primping and sink under the water (knees in the air as the bath is too short) and just float for a while. Get into maximum comfort mode and open eyes just in time to see huge plastic frog landing on my head... The babysitter had lost her charge and he'd come to investigate what mummy was doing. Remove frog from head, call G and relax again.

G decides that she has had enough of watching him, and is suddenly desperate to share her need of the toilet and so sits down.. in my bathroom.. obviously the other two toilets in the house aren't good enough, and she was taught to share.. Lal decides that it is tooth brushing time, so uses his commando moves to scale the sink, sit in it and start brushing (and throwing toothpaste tubes, soap dispensers and mouthwash into my bath)

I give up entirely on relaxing and reach for the face wash that guarantees to purify my pores, prevent all forms of aging and leave my skin feeling as soft as the day I was born. Realise that G has used all my one, and use her Witch one instead. It'll still clean my pores..

(Still feeling the pain of the exfoliator btw)

Curse the fact that I sank under the water and now need to wash my hair. Find shampoo.. the shampoo that will leave my hair revitalised, energised, and smelling of chamomile, aloe vera and passion flower.. ooh.. it'll balance the moisture too.. excellent! (Sorry.. I misquoted.. it will "revitalise my senses in a world of botanical bliss")

So, face done, legs done, body done (whilst ignoring the refusing to go away bit of tummy flab that's still left over from Lal) hair done.. covered in ginseng, guarana, white musk, chamomile, aloe vera, passion flower, moonglow, toothpaste, mouthwash, hand soap, plastic frog.. time to get out.

Shoo all children from bathroom - Lal still sitting in the sink, and G now playing "The way you make me feel" by Michael Jackson through her mobile, and rise gracefully from the water. Sigh in frustration as I realise that wet plastic frog landed on my nice fluffy towel when he was ejected from the water, and grumble about having to dry myself with a soggy towel.

And now the drying and dressing stage..

Send Lal and G downstairs to eat Gingerbread men and toast respectively and attempt makeup. Ah, first with face cream. I have the calming eye cream.. the one that will ensure the dark circles disappear whilst simultaneously remove all signs of aging. The face cream that will smooth wrinkles, reinvigorate and revitalise, all the while calming the skin..

Make up consists of lash curling, length enhancing, clump declumping mascara; smoothing and clarifying powder and a little eyeshadow that does nothing but make me look tired.

Hair, well it's still orange after the disastrous dye attempt, so gets minimal hair spray (smoothing, shining whilst giving bounce) and a quick go over with the hair dryer. Lal hears the hair dryer - thinks it's being aimed at him and cowers under his cot for 5 minutes trying to hide. G starts with the "aren't you done yet? I need to straighten my hair."

Locate clothes.. jeans and jumper, it's cold and I'm old. Deodarant.. which promises that I will bask in the glow of calendula and my skin will be restored and enhanced.

So.. I'm clean and I'm calmed, revitalised, restored, enhanced, reinvigorated, clarified, smoothed, balanced, energised, anti aged, smooth as a newborn baby and bleeding. All in 30 minutes.

Came downstairs, tidied up the books that Lal pulled out of the bookshelf, cleaned out two fish tanks, washed up, made more breakfast and wondered why the only thing to work was the bath stuff that guaranteed I'd sleep easier.

I'm exhausted..

K xx

How to sell your life on ebay?

Actually, this isn't a topic, it's more of a question. I'm hoping people have slightly better experience of this than mine... I just tend to add something, write a life story of it, and hope someone buys.

And strictly, I'm not selling my life. I'm selling Lal's and G's.

I got a phone call earlier from the Insulation people, telling me that they are starting work tomorrow on our loft. I have 325 years worth of stuff in that loft. Literally. Even though we've only lived here for 6 years. I'm amazed the roof joists have survived this long.

So, I've come to terms with the fact there will be no more babies (unless I can steal one from somewhere) so am selling most of Lal's stuff and whatever G doesn't want. (Not selling all of Lal's stuff as I also decided after G that there would be no more babies and had to spend a fortune buying everything again)

Of course, the lack of a husband does sort of mean no more.. but you know, medical advances.. and there is always another Immaculate Conception to pray for..

So! I need help. How do you sell stuff on ebay? Do I list the 27 almost exactly the same cardigans, size new baby, that he absolutely NEEDED as separate lots? Or do I do them in a bundle? The 18 designer outfits that cost upwards of £30 each (they were cute and I had hormones... don't judge me) single? lots? Frame and keep forever on a wall?

Do you write lots and lots and lots? Or do you keep it simple and succinct?

What is the strangest thing you have sold? I've listed a broken dvd player, empty perfume bottles and net curtains... even an empty glass water bottle that I had for *show* on our dining table (before the dining room became Lal's playroom)

An except from one of my auctions.. and it sold!

Now this one really is nice! It has the guaranteed look that makes people coo over your beautifully dressed baby boy.

It is actually aged 6 months, but Ebay didn't want to let me list it at that. It had to be 3-6m or 6-9m. I would say that it was generously sized, but then I had a tiny baby, For normal sized babies, I suppose it would be for a 6 month old which doesn't help you out at all.

It is a gorgeous velour type fabric, extremely soft. Separate trousers and top and will be perfect for the upcoming autumn days.

Again, I classed it as a *best* outfit, so it didn't get much wear. And it's French. Which would be a non sequitur, but it isn't, because it's French.

It even says " la clef des champs" on it, in beautiful handsewn writing. Which all you French speakers will know, stands for "This parent is falling into my trap and buying a ridiculously priced French outfit because someone somewhere said that French is best." It cost me £85 new. Yes, you did read that right. £85 new. For an outfit that the baby is likely to be sick on (he wasn't - he wouldn't have dared.. £85 *sigh*)

Oh, it's blue and white. And pretty. Well, manly.

Happy Bidding! (which really means, please buy them and don't make me have to keep them. I may have to have another child, just so he can wear it, but then the new baby would be a girl and I'd have to buy more and have more babies... you don't want to subject me to that, now do you?)

Apologies for the frankly appalling picture taking skills. I was good, but then he ate the camera.

I need tales and inspiration people!You see what happens when I'm left on my own?

(And Lal has learnt to say "beach" - he says it a lot, but it doesn't really sound like he's saying beach.. it sounds ruder. There also seems to be something that sounds suspiciously like "pee off." *sigh*

Kxx

I've had 4 bfp's (big fat positive on a pregnancy test) and have two children. With my dear, darling G, I never got a bfp at all. I never did a pregnancy test. I resolutely buried my head in the sand and refused to consider the idea that I could possibly be pregnant. Sadly, after 4 months and a rapidly burgeoning stomach, I could ignore it no more. 5 months is an ideal length for a pregnancy though.. You can even arrange a proper wedding in time.. Bad Catholic!

I've had three Yippee's that have turned into miscarriages and an ectopic, but that is over 10 years, so isn't too bad.

The happiest tale is Lal's one. Who said I favour one child over the other?

You have to forgive me, I didn't know any better then, but during an "early pregnancy symptom" search on google, I came across another Parenting forum - I know, traitorous in the extreme.. I just looked and this was my first (and last) post there:

I know some of you have experience in this so.....
I did a test this morning (first responce) and got a faint line - faint but noticeable..... am I pregnant?
Not due period until Wednesday, but am having all sort of symptoms... huge,sore breasts, nausea. I'm having slight niggling cramps as well though so I really don't know what to think! And there are no chemists open until tomorrow to get more tests

You see the naivete? I didn't know any of the terms, didn't know that a line was a line was a line. I just didn't know..

I can still remember that time, so clearly, even though I can't be entirely sure what happened yesterday..

2 days after the deed - Hmm, I feel slightly sick. Could it be? I could be, but then I just ate a 4 pack of chocolate eclairs. POAS - negative

3 days after - Ooh, ohh, ohhhh.. sore breasts. Google says yes, that is a symptom. Except I read that on day 2 so have been prodding at my breasts for the last 22 hours.POAS - negative

4 days after - Sorer breast, more prodding. Does that hurt? Cue squeeze that would rival a mammogram - it did hurt.POAS - negative

5 days after - Sick feeling again, and very tired. Did see dh off to Iraq at some ungodly hour and slept for approx 27 minutes, but no.. it's definitely another symptom.POAS - negative

6 days after - Sickness getting worse, slight tummy cramps, breasts now complaining that they have been squeezed too much and will allow nothing to touch them without actual tears of pain. POAS - negative (become convinced that there is something wrong with the tests and make 10 year old daughter take one.. realise that that isn't something a respectable parent does)

7 days after - POAS... POSITIVE. Immediately go online. Find strangers and announce pregnancy. Apologise to G. Take photos of test stick and email to dh. And email again in case the first one didn't get through.

For the next 14 days, I POAS at least once a day. (Job lot for £3.95 off ebay and a few extras from Tesco) I spent more on pregnancy tests than I did on food that month.

I was 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant when I found out. I swore that I would never again test so early - my two pregnancies since then? I tested ridiculously early then too. I have no patience at all. It's pathetic.

Oh, I should do the soppy stuff too...

Me:

My first feelings when I truly believed that I was pregnant? To place my hand on my stomach and leave it there for the next 9 months. Bump needed to know I cared.

G:

Cried and started watching American Tv shows for inspiration for names. Started hoping bump would be a boy named Cory or a girl named Raven. Was over the moon ecstatic.

Kit:

No idea of his first reaction, he was in Iraq and had to read the email. I'm pretty sure he was pleased and announced the strength of his.. umm.. deposit to a roomful of Squaddies. To me, he just sent an email back, I saved it, I am sad like that!

You daft mare, the picture you attached didn't take. Pregnant already?Thought we were still just practising. Not supposed to happen until Dec. Bloody happy. Sure you'll manage? Can get mum to move in and help. Tell Jogs to make you eat green stuff. 8 months, I'll be home, try to hold on yeah? Got leave for World Cup, so home sometime in July. Am booking tickets. Can you fly? Suppose we could all drive to Germany. James coming back too. He's staying with us. Says congrats on bun. (well done really. V hppy) K

Romantic no? In case you really wanted to know, his mother did NOT stay with me (I'd be writing this from a frozen over hell if she had) He did get to go to the World Cup, and James did stay with us for a week. I didn't receive the message to eat lots of green stuff.

Kx

The brattiest teen on the planet

I know I said that I would get back into journalling and actually make a proper effort... added three then ran away.. here's why..

The Tale of the Brattiest Teen on the planet.

G is my girl. My beautiful girl who is a pleasure to be around most days. Other days I want to plant her in compost, head first and only get her out when she's 18 and can leave home. She's not had it so easy lately. She witnessed one heck of a row between her father and I and the fallout from that hasn't been easy for any of us to cope with. Least of all her. Sadly, the children haven't been able to see daddy as much as any of us would like, contact has been reduced for a while to a couple of hours on a Saturday, and she doesn't like that. And decided to make me pay. The following is a tale and comedy of errors that she and her friend decided one night on msn. G no longer has msn. Or any sort of life.

Last Tuesday, G didn't come home from school. At all. Nothing. 4.30, no child. 5.30, no child. 6.30, no child. That isn't like her. It was dark, and cold and raining and nothing. I rang all her friends, fortunately she'd forgotten her mobile, and nothing. They'd last seen her walking home, through the park by herself. I'm afraid I did what any self respecting over protective mother would do, and called the police. They came. Looked around the house and garden in case she was hiding somewhere there, took a picture of her to circulate amongst all the other police in the area and called the Dog Unit to search the park.

By 7.30, I was hysterical and convinced that she was dead in a ditch somewhere. K was out looking, my father was driving the streets looking, my brothers were on various trains coming back from London looking, and I was sat with three phones repeatedly dialling three of her friends who hadn't answered the phone when I initially called. Nothing. The child had vanished.

At 9.30, one of the numbers I was calling, I had no idea who, finally was answered. The parent of the girl, after a very long pause, eventually deigned to tell me that she was there, and had been since 4.30. Nice of them to let me know, huh? Or to answer the phone before. 19 missed calls. pfft.

I rang the police, told them where to find her and expected her home within the hour. Again, I was mistaken. Young Miss G decided to inform the police that she was being beaten. Not smacked, or hit once, beaten. Actually beaten. Apparently she had a red mark on her arm. No one thought to question that she hadn't actually been home for me to have given her the red mark... no one considered the possibility that she was ever so slightly scared she'd be in trouble when she came home. Beaten! *sigh*

I reacted well to the accusation I must admit. I *didn't* tell the police that if I was beating her, it'd be best if she went into care then. I *didn't* go straight upstairs and pack every last item she owned into suitcases. No.. I wouldn't do that.

One sleepless night later, and I started to receive the phone calls from Social Services. And visits. The visit went well... epically well. My opening gambit? "Yes, I suppose I do beat her. Isn't it lucky that my parents paid for me to have lessons from the SAS, so i could learn how to beat her without leaving a mark..." and "I don't beat her.. I am using the Deadly Nightshade that's growing in the garden as a nice salad garnish though." Seriously. If anyone has a brainfilter going spare, I'll pay anything. I never know when to shut up.

Social Services have decided that G isn't an abused child - she will be soon though - and that they are able to close the file and just send her back to me.

The police however, still need to interview me regarding the alleged assault. The nice detective lady told me that I have nothing to worry about ( as I wan't anywhere near her to have actually hit her) but I stil need to go down to the station. This is where my watching programmes such as The Bill and Law and Order don't help... an excerpt from my conversation:

"So, when I come to see you, do I need to bring a solicitor? It's only, on The Bill.. if you're innocent and bring one then the police think you're guilty.. and if you're guilty and don't have one then you drop yourself in it. Not that I have anything to drop myself in... but you know, umm.. do I need one?"

She laughed.

"Ok, I'll be there at 10 on Thursday.. now can I bring Lal with me? He's 21 months and will stay still for a little while, or should I have someone look after him?"

Have someone look after him...

"Right.. so does that mean I'm going to be arrested and charged and sent to prison? Oh God.. he doesn't like staying with people overnight. Even when I went to London baby (Yep.. I said London baby, ffs) my parents had to move in here and he was ok, but now has a bit of nappy rash...he's in cloth most of the time, but he reacts badlt to disposables at the moment.. "

She laughed again. I'm not being arrested. I just have to confirm that I don't (yet) beat her.

The end of the story? Are you now picturing G sitting at home, loved, cuddled, all happy in the family again? Cos you'd be wrong.

My father went to collect her - after being the best dad in the world and cleaning my kitchen ceiling.. well that's what you do in an emergency situation, you clean ceilings... - and the family she was staying with wouldn't let her go!! They advised him that G was going to be living there now, and wouldn't be coming home at all.. not where she was in danger of being beaten. The father and brothers of the girl then chased my dad up the road. Poor man, he rang me from the car asking what to do.. my advice? Reverse!

Another police call and G came home. Unrepentant and uncowed. One of her gripes is that I am too old fashioned. The example she gave to the social worker was that I expect to "know where she is, who she's with and when she's coming home.." Far too old fashioned.

The upshot is that she'll be spending a little more time with her dad, a lot less time near any computer and no time at all out of the house.

Oh, and if you ever do have the misfortune to have any sort of involvement with social services, it's not the best idea to tell that when she comes home, you're going to kill her. They don't have a sense of humour about that.

The last thing Gordon the SW said to me, "Right.. so now we have a cunning plan as to where we go from here..." I tried so hard to stop myself, I pinched my thigh, I tried zipping my mouth closed, I tried.. but I failed... I responded with "A plan that is as cunning as a fox who has just been made Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?" Damn that Blackadder. And damn my lack of brain filter.

K (and the child named G who used to have a life but now has a mere existance)