Thank fuck my curtains are closed.

Monday the 23rd of July 2018

Blimey, I’ve missed you crowd. Yes, even you, sat there with your mouth puckered like a cats arsehole judging me for fucking off and leaving you with this lot. They’re not so bad, you just need to be less…. you, and more me. Suck it up.

Fuck it. I meant to start tonight’s blog with an interesting “hook”. You know something that means people read the synopsis and think “ohhhhh that sounds juicy, wonder what it’s all about?” when they see the link on Facebook or WordPress. Luring them in almost before BOOM; PITY PARTY CENTRAL! Well I’ve fucked that haven’t I? Started off being really self indulgent and writing about me me M.E. again. Ah well…no point in pretending to be someone I’m not so I might as well start as I mean to go on.

So, about me. Well, I’ve been away for just a little over a week and to be honest…. I’ve felt like I was missing my third nipple. I had no idea I would miss writing, or having the ability to write so much.Β  I’m chuffed as fuck to be back. I dropped Christiaan’s folks back at the train station this morning and couldn’t wait to get started, but as fucking usual I needed a rest after the exertion of sitting on my lardy arse and moving my left and right foot just quick enough to not kill us while “driving”. So here I am at nearly 1pm just getting started.

You’d think having had some time off I’d have a huge amount to write about but I can assure you tonight’s blog is going to be just as mundane as usual – you’re welcome. Actually,Β  by rights I should be wailing and gnashing my teeth having housed my in laws for a week but I was being sincere when I said I enjoyed their company. They’re easy guests and it’s lovely to watch Eli playing and interacting with his grandparents. My natural grandparents couldn’t really give two fucks about me, so I’m going to make sure Eli knows just how lucky he is to have two sets who utterly adore him. He had both my folks and Christiaans folks around on Saturday and his wee face was just bubbling with joy going between them all, he just laughed and laughed and laughed – he’s had a ball. Who says staycations are wank? Not I! You have everything you need and you’re already paying a bastard mortgage so what’s the point of shacking up and paying for more accommodation? Especially in this heat wave? I mean, it’s even hottish up here! Some days. Other days its fucking freezing, but STILL, we’ve had an actual summer and it’s been glorious.

Does that mean I feel really well rested having had extra hands around? Short answer – No. I wish I did to be fair because it be right nice to write some good news about my health but I’m probably more fucked for having been “switched on” for so long and feeling the need not to be ignorant bastard by not talking or listening; I’ve missed my zoning out periods most days, which I rely on to recharge the old noggin. In fact the reason I have v little to write about is because I’ve spent a lot of time in bed, or confined to the house while they’ve been here. I guess the up side is they have a very real view of what my illness looks like but the downside is, well they have a very real view of what my illness looks like and in their 70’s they don’t really need that worry do they? Having said that, I don’t want to paint myself to be worse than I am. I am v v aware that in ME (or CFS if you fancy using that instead, it’s the same bastard thing) terms I have it relatively easy. I can mostly function with rest stops and I’m able to get out occasionally but I think it speaks volumes when two OAP’s are doing waaaaaay more, FUCKTONNES MORE than I am in a day. My swan song every day was a to cook a dinner that everyone would enjoy, that was still within the rules of my fat club and that wouldn’t kill me in terms of effort. It’s a challenge in itself, especially when I had my parents round too but I think I pulled it off, there were clear plates most nights. Other than that I had no choice but to sit in either the garden or the house while the others went out and about for the most part. No, don’t feel sorry for me, there’s no need for the violins; I made my peace with all that kind of stuff a while back now – it’s shit, I’d like to be out enjoying whatever’s going on but it’s not on the agenda for now and that’s just the way it is. It’s way easier not to let it mither me, it takes energy I don’t have and the outcome is never positive

I did make it out of the house twice last week though. Once on Tuesday to go to the epic farm shop I write about a lot; we came home with a fab bounty of local grub and it meant I could cook my father in law a cracking lamb dinner. The second time was yesterday to meet some of the weirdo mums I speak to on Facebook at a local-ish farm with a cafe and pick your own fruit etc.Β  It was lovely, really lovely. I get on well with the majority of the group online and the locals I see more often than the others, but still not a lot given the current circumstances. One of the ladies, who herein shall be referred to as SuperMum strolled in with her toddler and newborn baby; impressive in itself but when you consider she lives hundreds of miles away near Manchester it’s awesome. It was a great cuddle I tell you. So, there was new born babies, toddlers, husbands, carnage … it was great.Β  One of my closest buddies on the Mums crowd, who I speak to most days, was over from Norway so we got to see each other for the first time in ages. She made me cry a bit by being lovely, I made her feel awkward with bear hugs and we chewed the cud as much as we could. It was just as it should be….Β  buuuuut, I was really self conscious. I had to use my stick. Yup I have a stick. I fucking hate it. I hate having it in the house, so it stays in the car and I detest using it around people I know. I had no choice though, the ground was uneven and my legs were too heavy to move on their own so…. I sucked it up and I used it. My pride took a bit of a beating mind but everyone was kind and ignored it so that’s half the battle – especially seeing as the last time I saw them I was 4 stone heavier and a lot more mobile; albeit just a few weeks after my spinal surgery.Β I got home after only being there an hour or so feeling like I’d done 15 rounds with Mike Tyson. I tell you what, karma is well and truly catching up with me…. fucking retribution, I hope whatever I did in my previous life was bastard worth it. Probably not knowing me.

The other cliff hanger I left you with was potty training. Oh how I fucking laugh now when I think back to my hope and optimism that having some extra hands around would make it easier. It wouldn’t have mattered how many pairs of hands we had helping, it made no difference; he pissed on them. Hand on heart, he pissed on everyone. He’s pissed on the floor, the couch, many many many pairs of pants, trousers, socks, shoes, towels. In fact, ironically the only place he hasn’t pissed on with any great regularity is the fucking potty. As much as I adore this wee creature he’s fucking idle. He’s at least aware of what he’s doing now. He’ll come and tell you he’s had an accident. Most kids would be upset to be in pissy pants but, not him, he’s just not arsed. I reckon he quite likes the squealch. Yes we’ve tried bare bum too. Yes we’ve tried putting him on the potty every half hour. Yes, even every ten minutes. Buy a book you say? Show him how it’s done? Reward chart? Chocolate bribes? Tried it all buddy. The kids a dirty bastard, what can I say. See everything on this washing line? Pissed on it. Yep that’s Christiaans t-shirt and socks – pissed on him too. The bib is the only thing that didn’t get it but it fell foul to spag bol so, I dunno which is worse.

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So after a week we’re not that much further forward if I’m honest. The first day he did a few accidental pee’s in potty and was incredibly bemused when we gave him chocolate. Not so much so that he got the link between pissing in the potty and getting more chocolate mind. MENSA will not be phoning any time soon. We’ve had a few wins in a week but nothing more than pure chance so his awareness of needing to piss is definitely lacking; although he is physically ready as demonstrated by the 7 hour piss strikes he’s been partaking in on days 1, 2 and 3. I was up wound up to the moon and back he was going to make himself ill but then eventually he would piss on someone, or in Morrison’s all over the floor and I’d relax again. The Morrison’s incident happened on Christiaan’s watch by the way. I’d not have risked it without a pull up. Lesson learned – until he’s more confident no pants outside. Eli that is, Christiaans been in big boy pants for a wee while now and doesn’t piss in Morrison’s anymore.

The other big news is that Seamus has got fucking huge in a week. He’ll not be long until he leaves the nest now I don’t think – he’s bigger than Dave and Agnes. His wee cousin almost met his doom though. I went up to bed on Saturday night and got up within 5 minutes because I could hear scratching in the hallway. I thought I’d locked one of the furry brain trust in the bathroom again so got up to have a look… but I couldn’t see owt. Well that was until I was stumbling back to bed and noticed a scrawny wee face looking in from the sky light. I near on shat myself until I realised it was one of the chicks from the top roof; the silly fucker had slid down the pitched roof and got stuck on the sky light. There was no way he could get back up, and it was way too high for us to go and help so he was a bit goosed. Well he was until he gave up and fell down a bit lower onto a flatter bit of our roof. I tell you what these seagull mums need a fucking rocket up their arse. If I let Eli away with the half the shit that this crowd are doing I’d be in the jail. So here, this is Boris; it’s a shit photo but every time I tried to put the light on he’d freak the fuck out so I had no choice but to take one in the dark.

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He’s much smaller than Seamus. Just as bright by all accounts given Seamus’s earlier pavement diving from the kitchen roof. I just hope his mum and dad keep feeding him now that he’s out of the nest. The bit of roof he’s on is dead awkward for us to keep an eye on him – you can’t really see it or get to it from our level but his parents should be able to see him fine, it’s whether they can be arsed with the parenting bit…. they’re not filling me with confidence if I’m honest. Christiaan’s folks said they could hear a lot of activity on the roof above their room so it sounds promising because that’s where he is but I’m still wary.

So here we are, back to normal. It’s Monday, I have Eli all day on my own but today I’ve opted for the easy option of having a telly day while we concentrate on getting piss on the potty. He’s currently sat on his throne watching shit on the telly while I type.

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Whether or not we’ll get any piss in there is another matter…. I’m too knackered to get too invested to be honest. I dare say I’ll have the Zoflora out in no time at all.

You’ll notice the curtains are closed too; that’s been one of the hardest bits about having our home open to everyone; keeping my curtains open. Mental innit? My eyes are so so sensitive at the minute that any form of direct sun really hurts, my lounge is south facing so this summer with all its amazing sunshine has been a bit of a challenge. I’ve had to do what I can while the inlaws have been here because you can’t make every fucker sit in the dark can you? It’s often meant I take myself outside where at least I can wear my sunglasses and face in the opposite direction… Yes I often go outdoors, where the sun actually lives, to get away from the sun. Welcome to the fucked up world according to Mellars. The Moon is also a hexagon FYI.

Tomorrow looks much the same as today.Β  I have Eli on my own again but I’ll likely be at my folks at some point and will spend the rest of the day trying to get him to focus on pissing in the right place so that when he goes to nursery on Wednesday I don’t have eleventeen billions pairs of pants to wash when he gets home. I already feel alarming amounts of sympathy for the nursery girls who will undoubtedly be dealing with my sons urine more than they would desire. Poor fuckers.

I’ve loads more to tell you by the way but I’ll write some more tomoz because I’m knackered and also, I’ll have piss all else to write about in all likelihood. In the meantime here’s some pics of the last few days.

Thats a massive Desperate Dan beef and smoked garlic mash pie, raspberry and lemon pavlova and a Samoyed (my mums).We didn’t eat the Samoyed.

Ahhhh it’s good to be back, I feel like I’ve emptied my literary sack and I am MUCH more at ease now.

Night Y’All

S 😘

  • Highlights
    • A really lovely visit from Christiaan’s folks, loads of memories made and it just makes me feel all warm inside that he has so much family around him
    • I can close my curtains again hooooray!!!
    • I saw my special mums crew with one in particular that needed a cuddle
    • It’s weigh in day which means I can eat all of the nice things and I’ve managed about 95% on plan throughout the whole visit (I had none of the pavlova above)
  • Β Lowlights
    • Eli continues to piss anywhere except the potty
    • It’s right hard saying goodbye to the inlaws, it upsets us all but none more than the wee man who was crying for a long time after we dropped them off. He really has enjoyed having them here
  • What’s on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast –  Toast – hooray for white bread!
    • Lunch – Nada, toast fills me righhhhhhht up for ages
    • DinnerΒ  – Nacho’s me thinks.

Are you new round here?

If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum #meblogging

#ThisisME

ME Blogger extraordinaire… not really

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