Wednesday the 15th of August 2018
So, here we are again. It’s Wednesday, it’s my first working day of the week and I’m propped up in bed with the v important task (don’t scoff) of getting my brain farts down on a page AND it making sense. The pressure is tangible and I can guarantee you that I have put more thought, and effort, into writing this piece of shit than Donald Trump has into running the worlds most powerful nation today. Frightening innit? Also true, I have no doubt at all. I guess on paper, I’ve failed a bit at the whole fake work framework thing – technically I should have been writing from 8am but there was no way that was going to happen today. So, it’s 10am and here I am, after a two and a half hour doze I’m up and at em. What a fucking part timer eh, some of you have been working our arse off since Monday and here’s me rocking up late on a Wednesday giving it all “I’m tired”…. suck it up bouncy baps, life aint fair.
So it’s Wednesday but today isn’t just any old Wednesday. Noooooo for a fuck tonne of Scottish mums (not me) today is saviour day. The day where they reclaim their sanity, their time, and their money – today is Back To School day. My news feed on Facebook is awash with pristine looking kids in uniforms, each one looking angelic and “ready to learn”… which I can guarantee you is bullshit – as soon as they’re out of your sight they’ll rediscover and it’ll all be swearing, scuffing their shoes, flirting, fighting and acting not bovvered about everything, but for now Mums… take a deep breath and exhale. You made it.
It’s not going back for every school right enough, some have another week or two weeks to go but for the Fife crowd, and some other counties, today is the day we’ve all been waiting for….. the kids are caged back up. I include myself in that “we” because trying to take a toddler anywhere during school holidays time feels like a battle. Everywhere is full of older kids who play faster and rougher than the wee ones do – not a bother when they behave, which is probably about 5% of the time. The other 95% of the time I spend, as a parent to a toddler, giving older kids evil eyes or passively aggressively intervening in altercations “Tarquin, I’m sure the older BIGGER boy who is technically TOO OLD TO BE HERE didn’t mean to slam you into the side of the barrier and throw a ball right in your face. Come on, lets play over here and *raises voice pointedly* HOPE THAT HIS MOTHER TELLS HIM OFF FOR HIS DISGUSTING BEHAVIOUR BEFORE IT DESCENDS INTO A LIFE OF DRUG ABUSE AND CRIME”. Now, why the fuck “we” don’t just go over and have a word with the wee bell ends mum is beyond me. Maybe “we” don’t want to be seen to be “that” mum who tells others how to parent? Ironic really, because that’s what the majority of us are, as soon as we have our own, we automatically become the holy grail of parenting, our way is the RIGHT way…. whether we want to admit to it or not. Also, I am THAT mum, the one that DOES come up and tell you your kid is a dick when my last button has been pushed. I sometimes wish I wasn’t, and to be fair I start off like all the other mums but I’ve a shorter fuse than some and there are times I just can’t be arsed playing the game…. so I say something and then there’s a to do about who’s lying and whats happened and to be honest, no one gets anything out of that exchange. It’s a no win battle.
Now don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt at all that when Eli is 6 I too will have lost the will to live at school holiday time. I suspect I’ll take him ANYWHERE just to kill a bit of time and I’ll probably do what fat Sandra does and take her phone out and ignore everything my little darling is doing in favour of looking up pictures of cheesecakes on Instagram, but for now, I can’t. My nearly 3 year old demands my attention and me being the crazy fucker that I am… I give it to him. I watch him play, and interact with other kids and make sure that if he twats someone off the face with a ball that he gets told off and says sorry; because it’s the right thing to do, he needs to learn not to be an utter bell end. As well as instilling kindness and non-cuntery into him he needs to understand that there are always people who will absolutely put him in his place, and shocker, as his parent, I’m one of them. Who knew?
So, Scottish mums, congrats, you’ve made it; but also, I’m chuffed your womb fruit is back in the education cage too…. I can breathe a bit easier. I know you’ll all argue you have the kindest, most easy going kid alive. You don’t. You’re deluded. Your kid, just like mine, is a fucking nightmare to anyone it doesn’t belong to. No one likes other peoples kids really.
English mums, hang on in there and make sure that in these last few weeks that your kid isn’t a dick to any other kids; remember there are Mums to Toddlers out there everywhere and if they’re owt like me they’ll not think twice about tripping your blessed offspring up, giving it filthy looks, or whispering sweary threats in it’s ear when they think no one can hear… “You do that again you little fucking arsehole and I swear I will rip your balls off and feed them to the crows” has been heard in more than one childs play environment this summer. Not by me… obvs.
My own little “darling” is at nursery today after an amazing crescendo last night which involved curling one out in the bath and THEN shitting himself some more in his sleep. Now the bath thing I found funny, primarily because it was on Christiaans watch; I just had to sweep him out of the bath and get him on the bog to see if there was any more coming – which there didn’t appear to be. We watched has his dad fished for turd with the jug and Eli got quite excited when it was caught “Look Mummy, s’my poopy!”… he seemed proud, and to be fair I was too – it was a hard one rather than a smooshy and I think we were all grateful. So we all laughed it off and we moved on. Fast forward to bed time and he was taking AGESSSSSS to get to sleep, rolling all over the place, singing, crying, talking to his monkeys, shouting for a cuddle, you name it but finally, FINALLY, at about 7.30pm he fell asleep. We breathed a sigh of relief and started to relax for the night; Christiaan into killing shit on his computer (there’s new levels or something… I dunno) and me going upstairs to bed (more on that in a bit). As I pulled myself up the stairs at around 8 I was sure I could smell summit funky but thought it was still lingering from bath-turd so I dismissed it. That was until I went into check on bollockchops. I had my suspicions he’d shat as soon as I opened the door; it fucking reeked in there, but what I didn’t know was the severity of the situation… and he was sound asleep. You see, there are different types of shite. The hard ones, i.e. “clean evacuations” you can get out of a nappy by just grabbing it with a wet wipe, the nappy itself isn’t too grubby – sure they wake up with an itchy arsehole in the morning but that’s the trade off for not waking them for a full on change. So I switched his wee nightlight on, lifted the waistband of his jammas and the side of the nappy to see what I was dealing with…. and groaned. SHITE EVERYWHERE. On my fingers, on his jammas, on his balls, up his back…. everywhere. I had no choice but to wake him up, get him out of bed, clean and change him and then get him back to sleep again. Now, to say he wasn’t impressed is an understatement – he was fucking livid to have been woken up and I can’t say I blame him; waking up covered in what you’re presuming, but can’t be sure, is your own shite and then having cold wet wipes all over your balls can’t be up there in the top 10 best ways to wake up. I cant say I was over impressed either to be fair; I had an early night planned and it had turned to actual shite. FYI it takes a long time for the smell of mushy kid shite to leave your hands. Antibacterial hand wash and a shower later I can still smell it. That kid is fucking grim.
I did get him back to sleep though, he was knackered, but he was grumbling on and off all night and was up bright and early at 5ish this morning. As a result I’ve had a pretty shit nights sleep again and he’s gone off to nursery less than freshy and bouncy too. I’ve no idea what the script is but he had home made soup for the first time in ages yesterday and I’m guessing the lentils and veg overloaded his gut and made him shit for Scotland. If only the wee fucker would eat chicken nuggets and chips we’d be laughing but no, my one is broken. And contrary. And I know I shouldn’t start sentences with the word “and” but it’s my blog so it’s my rules, but out grammar nazi.
So, hes off to nursery for the day, I’m knackered and needed to come back to bed which I guess means now is as good a time as any to start moaning. Don’t tut, fucks sake, we’re 2000 words in, you’ve had longer than usual to get comfy and you must have known it was coming at some point?
The posh definition for what is going on just now is Post Exertional-Malaise or PEM for short. What the fuck is it I hear you ask…. well this is how the ME Association describe it:
Post–exertional malaise (PEM), or post–exertional symptom exacerbation, describes a delayed and significant exacerbation of ME/CFS symptoms that always follows physical activity and often follows cognitive activity. PEM is a highly characteristic clinical and diagnostic feature of ME/CFS
In laymans terms – I’ve crashed and am in full swing pay back mode from last weeks activity. It’s likely been too much going out, having my consultation AND attempting to “work” (i.e. write my blogs on Thursday and Friday) and as a result I’ve pretty much been camped out either in bed or on the sofa under a blanket since Thursday afternoon. I’m fucked. I can barely get myself up the stairs and when I do I need to rest. When I come back down again I need to rest. When I stand for a few minutes… I need to rest. It’s a fucking joke and it’s meant I’ve managed to do pretty much fuck all for 6 days now – which is why the blog has been very quiet. I couldn’t write, again.
In fact I tallied up my total “out of the house time” since Thursday and it’s 6.5 hours; 2 of those were spent at my mum and dads yesterday while they played with Eli and Christiaan worked, I managed 2 hours at Dobbies soft play on Monday morning (drinking coffee while Eli played) the rest of the time has been taken with nursery collection, driving or sitting watching Eli at his swimming lesson oh and 15 minutes at fat club. I have been either house or bed bound for the other 144 hours (and counting) and I feel like I’m getting weaker rather than more rested. It’s shit but you know what, it could be worse. I know, I KNOW – I’ve every right to feel angry etc and believe me I do, but I can’t afford to wallow in this; I’m determined it’s temporary… I will bounce back and I’m hyper aware that is a luxury for those who suffer with severe M.E. because they’ll not get the chance.
The days haven’t been entirely wasted to be fair. I’ve done a wee bit on the Facebook page back and forward with a Q & A that I enjoyed a lot (thanks for taking part, and if you haven’t the post is pinned and will be open for ages yet). I learned loads about you all which was cracking and it felt like I was socialising virtually which was really satisfying. I’ve also enjoyed snuggling with my boy, who for the most part has been great during these last few days (except shitting himself). He’s clearly sussed something is up and wanted to stay as close to me as possible so he’s been bringing me toys and books and loads of cuddles – he’s a wee diamond.
Yes I know my hair is ridiculous but fuck it, if you haven’t sussed I’m not vain by now then you’re never going to. I’m alright with looking a state.
How many mums can say their toddler would do that when they were poorly? Not many I reckon and it tugged at my heartstrings this morning when Christiaan was taking him to nursery and he asked to “stay home and snuggle in bed with Mummy”, that wee kind hearted creature has no idea this is not normal and I hope that remains the case for as long as I’m ill. The day he becomes aware of my illness and the effect it has on our home life is the day I’ll be able to tell how well we’ve parented him… will he be compassionate and accepting or will he be self consumed and bitter? My moneys on the former; dear jeebus let him stay kind hearted, but if not, he’s going on Etsy and I’m getting another kitten.
So aye, it’s been a bit shit really and on spirals like this you need to dig that bit deeper to find stuff to smile about. I’m obviously really lucky to have my wee family, I know there are many out there who are going through this alone and it must be fucking awful for them (if this is you please get in touch, I’m always up for a chat). The support and love I get from Christiaan means this is a far easier journey than it would be for most; it’s utter donkey dick, but it’s survivable and that’s just what I need to keep reminding myself. So, I made this;
You might have seen it on the Facebook page already but I’m including it again because it’s important. Now obviously there are some funny bits on it, it’s me, I’m warped, but this was a really REALLY wholesome thing to do on a dark day. It utterly realigned me in terms of my mood and gave me something positive to focus on… yes, it’s a bit daft but I would 100% recommend doing something like this next time you’re feeling a bit sorry for yourself. You don’t need anything more than paper and a pen and I reckon you’ll be surprised at how difficult it is to fill an entire page… I was, and I’d like to think I’m a fairly upbeat kinda gal. As you can see, I don’t go into wanky etheral things like “the sound of butterflies dancing in the wind” on mine, but you can; if that’s what makes you happy or brings you joy – write it down. I had a bit of fun with an app on my phone to do this; it’s the same app I use to make most of the graphics for the page and it took me about an hour but for that hour I was drilled into POSITIVE shit, and not focused on everything that was wrong. It was really empowering – as much as I hate that fucking word, it was.
So, I’m in bed. So fucking what? I can still appreciate things, I’m comfy, I’m cosy and although it’s not where I WANT to be, it’s not a bad reminder that you can’t always get what you want in life. Sometimes what you NEED takes over… and that’s where I am now, and you know what? I’m alright with that. I’ll bounce back. It might not be today or tomorrow, but I’ll do it.
It’ll alllllllllllllllll be fine… honest.
- I have a lot of shit that brings me joy. Some of its wanky, none of it is irrelevant
- Day 1 of Fake Work has rolled round and although I’m struggling, I’m nearly at the end of writing this blog today… I’ve nearly won
- Eli shitting himself today is someone else’s problem
- Christiaan is off today, to play a computer game or summit. Its nice having him round rather than locked away in his office working. It also meant he could put the shopping away when it was delivered earlier… yeeeehhhhhaaaaa
- I have new, freshly washed jammas to change into after my shower in a bit… I can’t wait
- Low lights
- I’m broken to be honest, really broken… but… fuck it, I refuse to be a moany fucker about it.
- My ear has started weeping… no not in a crying way you fucking moron but as in an infected way. Just on the lobe, it’s ever so strange
- Apparently I need to attend a phone appointment with Legal & General next week – to give them some more information on my condition so that the “rehabilitation team” can see if they can assist me getting back to work. L & G are the insurance providers for work so I’m guessing my drop in wages will be coming soon. I didn’t laugh at them when they called; I’ll be interested to see what they can do to cure a chronic condition with no cure. They might be fucking miracle workers? Who knows.
- What’s on the menu Mellars?
- Breakfast – Nothing… I slept instead
- Lunch – Lentil carrot & bacon soup… the same one that made Eli shit everywhere. I can but hope it works
- Dinner – Chilli with butternut squash I think – I’m toying with the idea of doing an SP day which basically means I eat nothing bar protein or what they call speed veg on Slimming World… my weight is kind of hanging these last few weeks and I gave in yesterday and had a chippy so I need to give it a kick. I may give in and crave some carbs later though, we’ll see
- I post pics regularly on my Instagram account if you want pics of some of this grub by the way – you’ll find a link to follow me here: CLICK HERE my pics all look like road kill but if I post a pic it’s because its tasty. OR wank and you should avoid making the mistake. Whatever. There may also be pictures of cats and kids. Not included in the meal… I’m not an animal.
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.
- Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
- Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
- When are the grown ups coming?
- Major surgery…again?
- You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?
#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum #meblogging
ME Blogger extraordinaire… a bit of a shit one, granted.