The gall of it…

Two days ago I had surgery to have my gallbladder removed. It was planned as I’ve been having issues
with it for a few months but up until the very last minute I didn’t think about the fact that I was about to go into hospital to actually have an organ removed, and when I did I started crying. I realised that I had organised for my daughter to be looked after for the first few days but I hadn’t actually thought to make sure that I would be looked after. 

My mum was dropping me off at hospital and would then pick me up after all was done but it dawned on me that I’d be waking up in the recovery room on my own because, stupidly, I didn’t think I’d need anyone there.  My boyfriend would have been there if he could but has been working away and is poorly himself, my mum and dad reacted like it was just another normal day and nothing out of the ordinary was happening, my best friend is out of the country feeling very helpless as she couldn’t be there but it was my own fault.  I’d pretended that I’d be ok, I’d pretended that I can cope with being on my own all the time but as you’re walking towards the anaesthetists room in a backless gown, compression socks and slippers you kind of wish that someone else would be walking with you. 

Nothing sexier than compression socks

I did wake up on my own, in a lot of pain and, after crying because I couldn’t breath without it hurting, the nurse asked if anyone was with me I just started crying all over again.  She then asked if anyone was coming to see me and I had to say that I didn’t know and cried a bit more. I was all alone at one of the most vulnerable times and I’d let that happen. 

I had to stay in over night as me and morphine do not get on well and my blood pressure dropped quite drastically.  I did get a visit from the boyfriend who looked almost as broken and tired as me but it was a lonely few hours waking up expecting to have slept for hours however looking at the clock and realising it was only 45 mins. 

I am now at my parents house because, as Mum had to help me get my shoes on when picking me up, I think they realised I’d probably not survive on my own straight away and they have been looking after me ever since. 

It has taught me something though, that I really should put myself first more often. Or at least a close second after Charlotte because there are times when you just can’t do everything yourself and sometimes you need to accept that and just ask for help.

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Out of the rabbit hole. 

Heading towards the light.

So I’ve apparently had some time off. I’m going to blame the summer but it was pretty much down to laziness and, yet again, some mega stress that sent me down a bit of a hole. 

But things have got remarkably better, remarkably quickly which I shall catch you up in due course but this is just me coming into the light and saying ‘I’m back!’. 

Next adventure…Charlotte starts school tomorrow!!! 

Fun Friday – review of Finding Dory

It does feel a little bit like the summer holidays over here even though Charlotte will still be going to nursery for four more weeks. We have fun things planned for our Friday’s off (Fun Friday’s if you will), we have all our weekends together booked up with people to see and places to go and a few days spare to still enjoy the sun which will hopefully decide to stick around a bit longer. (It is however raining as I write this!)

 

For our first Fun Friday of then summer we decided to go and see Disney Pixar’s Finding Dory movie.  It was released today so the cinema was busy but we went to the early showing so still had enough room to move (well I could have if Charlotte hadn’t insisted on sitting on my lap throughout). Click here for the link to the trailer.

 

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I was was looking forward to a light, hilarious caper with a small amount of mild peril as per the previous film Finding Nemo, which I may or may not have owned before Charlotte was even a twinkle in the postmans eye (not really if my ex reads my blog!).  We’ve recently seen The Secret Life of Pets and before that Zootropolis which we both loved.

 

But…

 

…oh how wrong I was though. For a U rating this had some really adult themes and I’m actually quite shocked.  I’ve always loved Disney/Pixar collaborations for the great mix of children’s humour with a smattering of ‘over the kids heads’ jokes for the poor parents having to watch yet another U or PG rated film, but this was severely lacking in the humour.  Yes, there was some funny seals for about four minutes. There was a crazy bird. An octopus gets splatted a couple of times but the rest just felt a bit angsty.

 

I won’t spoil the story for you in case you decide to see it but the vague gist is that Dory is on a quest to find her long lost parents. Cue flashbacks of cute baby Dory with parents, flashbacks of baby Dory trying to make friends but failing. Cue tears from me (although I cry at everything nowadays) and a very confused, emotional four year old.

 

I have to say I was quite disappointed with the film after waiting so long for the sequel to one of my most favourite kid’s films. So maybe save the £20 for another film or something else that won’t leave you having to console your child and secretly having to find the tissues too.  We went to our free art gallery after the film which Charlotte seemed much more enthralled about.

 

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Charlottes drawing the ‘lady with boobies’ (not its official title) at the Royal Pump Rooms Art Gallery in Leamington Spa

 

 

What not to wear.

Those of you who follow my Facebook page (hint hint 😉) would have seen that, last week, I attempted a bit more of a chic Sunday casual ‘mummy at the playground’ look than previously. However I have also realised that I have no idea what I want to look like and how best to present myself anymore. Every now and again I have the right combination of clothes clean and ironed so I can look vaguely put together but sometimes I am down to my granny pants, saggy jumper and jeans and there’s just no way to make that look good.

I know I have an hour glass shape which Gok and Trinny and Susannah and anymore recent fashion guru’s say I am lucky to have but unless I want to wear spanx, pencil skirts and high heels all day everyday (not particularly practical for the nursery pick up) I don’t know how to venture out of the house in anything other than a t-shirt and jeans combo.

I am also fretting over the recent change in season as, since last October, I have lost some weight (yay!) which means all my autumnal wardrobe is too big and I have zero £’s and zero pence to buy anything new (boo). My favourite, fail safe dress now hangs in all the wrong places, my work trousers now have saggy bums at a time when I’m more happy to show mine off and my tops seem to have been manipulated by the washing machine gremlins so that they are all either too short, adorned with random little holes or after a six months of being packed away in the vacuum bag I am now thinking why on earth I bought/wore it in the first place! I have now done the full swap over and all the pretty, colourful summer stuff is stashed away and I am left with a paltry offering of greys, browns, khakis (I honestly don’t remember buying anything khaki!) and dreary colours to match my Seasonal Affective Disorder mood. Going to be a cheerful few months, I can tell!

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Art attack!

I love art. One of my favourite things is to walk around a quiet gallery taking in all the different interpretations of art and feeling calmed by the beauty someone can create just by putting brush to canvas, or pencil to paper, or fingers to clay etc however…

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My daughter goes to nursery three days a week and generally comes home with 3 or 4 papers with scribbles on or painting on or stickers on or sand glued on. I have just worked out this is approximately 567 bits of paper I now have floating around my house! This doesn’t count the painting and sticking we do whilst at home. Add another 100 pieces over time at least!

My fridge is covered in the better pieces. I have put a few in frames, I have some of the ‘sculptures’ in her room and some paintings and cutouts are Blu-tacked to her wall. I have piles in my car from when I haven’t had enough hands to carry them up the stairs, I have piles in the hall that it haven’t sorted yet and I have piles in a box in one of my cupboards. I have felt bad with every A4 bit of paper with a random scribble on that gets put in the recycling because it has been trampled on or adorned with muddy boot prints and I’ve felt bad for every decorated toilet roll that has accidentally got soggy or most of the bits have fallen off on the way home but I also have no idea what the protocol is with children’s artwork?! There is so much stuff that I surely can’t be expected to keep it all but does that make me a bad mummy? What on earth does everyone else do with their little darlings creative outlets?! There must be a good business idea in here somewhere but what on earth it could be I’m not sure.