You may not be walking yet, but at 21 months old you’re certainly not a baby.
What you are like now:
1) You shout NO! A lot.
2) You’re rapidly going off wearing a nappy.
3) You sing yourself to sleep with that popular nursery rhyme all about a Russian oligarch with a bladder problem; Tinkle Tinkle Little Tsar is your favourite song. Continue reading
Hospital waiting rooms - a good source of books
I didn’t sleep last night.
I was too busy tossing and turning in bed, mulling over the various different things that could mean my toddler isn’t toddling. Why is it that things always seem so much worse in the dark?
Today’s hospital appointment – both dreaded and anticipated – wasn’t particularly pleasant. The X-ray which I was hoping to avoid did actually happen. The consultant examined Frog’s gorgeous hips and sent us straight to the room with the “special camera”. Continue reading
I’m dreading tomorrow. I’m anticipating tomorrow. I can’t wait for it to come. The thought of it fills me with dread.
Tomorrow I should find out what is wrong with my little girl, if anything. Tomorrow I should find out if my non-toddling toddler is just a late walker or if there is, indeed, a more sinister reason for her lack of mobility. Continue reading
This time next week, we’ll be less than 24 hours away from some answers. Hopefully.
There are now only seven days between us and the hospital appointment which may shed some light on why my 21 month old daughter is still not walking. Or standing.
Since the referral I’ve flitted between absolute unerring hesitation that there is nothing wrong with my child, and the unquestioning certainty that, actually, there is a problem. Continue reading
With wine on a Friday night.
It starts with a whisper at around midday. I can hear it humming softly from the fridge in all its cold, fresh, delicious glory.
The call gets steadily louder as the afternoon wears on. With each tantrum from my beautiful, highly-strung 20 month old daughter, the wine positively sings from the bottle stacked lovingly in its cosy white home in the corner of the kitchen. Continue reading
I was going to call this post, The Day I Didn’t Miss My Daughter’s First Steps. But then I decided to be completely upfront and go with the title above instead.
Because, after hurtling through a whole array of emotions, from elation and joy to despair, guilt and wretchedness, back to elation, I am now at the point of denial.
Being a working mum has it’s benefits, a healthy bank balance and a stimulated mind not least among the working virtues. But, sometimes, it can be utterly rubbish. Continue reading
For the past couple of months I have been asked one question time and time again, in various different forms.
It goes something like this, “I just don’t know how you do it”. Or, “I couldn’t do it, I don’t know how you do”. Or, “You should really take care – I mean, I just don’t know how you manage it”.
In each situation, the person is talking about my work. Continue reading