And that's a wrap!

One Christingle Christungled,
The last Advent story read,
The wrapping completed, the presents all stockinged,
And that's me off to bed!

Happy Christmas! Health and strength to all those who need it, a measure of peace to my friends who have had a miserable 2010, patience to parents of early risers tomorrow, and Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus.
Tia

Good Samaritans, or Who Needs Respite Anyway?

Our second (and final) day of playscheme today. And, after Monday's route march, my chance to get everything sorted and ready for the next few days.

Our carer agrees to come slightly earlier, so the girls will both be up and dressed (in actual clothes, much to Little Fish's disgust; she's spent the past two days in big fluffy sleepsuits) in time to hike across to school. I actually remember both lunch and a feeding tube for LF, refill Mog's bag with her own supplies, and we leave in time to be only mildly late.

An uneventful walk up to school; LF goes off-piste a couple of times but mostly rescues herself. We arrive, I unload the girls, and go to grab my handbag which was hanging on the back of LF's wheelchair. It's not there. I say a rather hastier goodbye than planned, and retrace my steps, rather than heading off to find fish for tomorrow's feast. Get to the bumpy bit of the road, no bag. Further down the road, no bag. Make mental list of what's in bag - purse, cheque book, bank book, keys including the only set of keys we have for the van, assorted flotsam and jetsam, chocolate coins but thankfully not my phone which is in my pocket. Keep walking, hunting through the hedges and convincing myself I have seen it in the shadow of every dustbin.

Just as I round the corner to home, hoping against hope that it may have fallen off in our doorway, my phone rings. Playscheme have had a visit from a man who has found my bag. He doesn't have it himself; he passed it to someone else who lives just over the road from school. I retrace my steps, reaching the house with my bag just seconds before kind woman with bag leaves to drive bag to my house. Cancelling plans to find big shop, I walk back home again, calling at minor shoplet almost en route and deciding that what I have in the freezer will just have to do.

Home. Playscheme call, saying that Mog is having a seizure. I ask for details. It's clonus. I suggest they straighten her leg - this works, and they agree to call again if she has more problems. I eat breakfast, drink coffee, and gather together all the presents, wrapping paper, scissors and tape, assembling them all in the playroom where I hope I might find something suitably Christmassy to watch as I wrap.

Playscheme ring again; Mog has been fitting for 11 minutes and they thought I should know. I warn them she often goes to 28 minutes, which is why we give meds at 30; they agree to call back if further problems. I wrap Little Fish's present and begin on Mog's. They call back; she's still fitting. Whilst playscheme can give her Midazolam, once she's had it, she needs somewhere quiet to sleep it off for the next few hours, and sometimes needs oxygen, so would definitely be better off at home.

I suit up again and head back out, ridiculously heavy oxygen cylinder on my back. They warn LF that her day at playscheme is going to be cut short, and we all feel bad about the fact that she will miss the party and visit of a certain man in red. I walk into the school to be greeted by a grinning Mog, who stopped her seizure as I walked through the door. Toad. We debate what to do next, and she demonstrates she's still twitchy and definitely doesn't want to stay. I really don't want to walk home with her, then bring her back out again to go and fetch LF. But nor do I really want to sit in the school library for the next five hours.

I phone a local taxi company to see if they can bring LF home later. They say they are not running any wheelchair accessible taxis as it is too snowy. Playscheme are surprised to hear this, since this particular taxi company delivered at least one child to them this morning, in her wheelchair, in an accessible taxi. Hmmm. We discuss further options. Playscheme come up with the number of another taxi firm, which is not answering its phone. Two staff offer to walk LF home after the party, provided that they can get back to school themselves before the end of the playscheme day. We leave it that they will do this if the second taxi company is unable to help, and I load Mog back into her chair ready to go.

Mog and I slither home together, her monitor shrieking a warning that actually, post-ictal Mog does not appreciate breathing cold air. We collected some odd looks as I pulled the blankets up around and over her face until just her pony tail was on view, but she seemed to appreciate it.

Home, and drip our way through the house to the playroom. I shuffle a pile of presents off the settee and settle Mog in a corner. She grins, twitches, and falls asleep. I consider the things I was supposed to do on Monday, which got shunted to today, and the things I was supposed to do today, which will now have to wait until January.

And then I consider the fact that I don't have to cancel all my cards, I do have access to money over the holidays, and that LF isn't going to miss her party, and is going to be delivered to us one way or another. I can, if I am quiet, wrap a pile of presents as Mog sleeps, and in the meantime a house with a sleeping Mog is very nearly as peaceful as a house without children, and very definitely quieter than a house with an overexcited Little Fish.

I am, however, slowly sliding towards an agreement with those people who think the snow is a nuisance!
Tia

Bethlehemian Rhapsody

Shamelessly stolen from Alison and Val, but thought some of the non-facebook crowd might appreciate it too (and Graeme, for some reason this reminds me of you!)

Tia

Good news, bad news.

The good news is, it's snowing here. Beautiful, crisp, white, clean and fresh snow, falling softly and covering everything with a sound-proof blanket. Traffic noise hushed, footsteps silenced, the only sounds giggles of small children with snowballs and birds clamouring for food.

The bad news is, our weekend carers cancelled, Waitrose cancelled their delivery too, and most of our Christmas presents are apparently in Inverclyde.

The good news is, the milkman made it, and managed to bring bacon and eggs and other essential breakfast supplies as well.

The bad news is, the milk froze on the doorstep.The good news is, this reminded me of my childhood.

The bad news is, I don't remember this happening back then

The good news is, we still have plenty of milk and not too much of it dripped down behind the 'fridge where it will turn into evil-smelling cheese.

The bad news is, I had no contact from playscheme to say it had been cancelled.

The good news is, our morning carer turned up - an hour late, but in time to give Mog a shower and get her wrapped up.

More good news in the form of several weather forecasts all promising a foggy but snow free day, so we wrapped up warmly and hiked over to Mog's school to see if the playscheme was running. Even better news, it was!

I dropped the girls and step/fumble/stepped my way over to Waitrose. Bad news; I remembered I had not packed Little Fish a lunch for playscheme, so bought her a sandwich and made plans to trek back to school after going to the chemist.

Good news; playscheme rang and offered to cook her some pasta and sauce!

Bad news; I got to the chemist to ask for LF's prescription, and they told me that it won't be in until January 10th.

I point out that they have had the prescription request for two weeks, and that perhaps it might have been useful to tell me this sooner, as I now have just two doses left. They shrug.

I walk to other chemists, balk at the queue, and realise that I am wasting time; last time they couldn't get it, no other company could either and none of them keep it in stock as it has a limited shelf life. So I head over to the GP surgery, where I queue to speak to a receptionist. She directs me to the prescriptions lady; I join a different queue. Eventually I reach the front of the queue, with a new respect for the wonderful prescription lady who remains calm despite unending phone calls and queries and forgotten names of drugs and complicated spelling issues.

I explain the issue. She says she will speak to the doctor about prescribing an alternative. I sit. Thirty minutes later, someone else hands me the original prescription, together with a note claiming that Consult Pharmacy (extreme far end of town in opposite direction to home and playscheme) have it in stock. I hike over to Consult Pharmacy, who look at the prescription and tell me they will have to order it in. I am not best pleased with the Surgery at this point. They phone, and are promised delivery by tomorrow afternoon.

The bad news; as they phone I hear them read out the prescription and realise it is the wrong strength medication.

The good news; if they hadn't read it out over the phone I would not have noticed and would have been giving LF a double dose, and all I now have to do is give half the normal dose which means that one bottle will last twice as long.

By this point, it is snowing fairly heavily once again, and I am not altogether surprised when the playscheme supervisor rings me to say playscheme is closed.

The bad news; I'm now 1.5 miles from school and it'll take me a while to walk there.

The good news; I'm not the last parent to turn up.

The bad news; I then have to wait 15 minutes for staff to finish changing the girls so I can take them home.

The good news; I find the phone number for a local taxi firm which has accessible taxis.

The bad news; they have no accessible taxis running today.

The good news; by the time the girls are all changed and buttoned into coats and blankets, the snow has stopped.

The bad news; it's still cold, it's still a mile home, and the new snowfall has made it almost impossible for Little Fish to get any traction in her powerchair.

We do eventually get home, and collapse together onto a nice soft settee. Little Fish's lunch proves to be enough for all of us, I have some rather nice Apple Yvonne* in the 'fridge, and we don't have to go anywhere else today.

The bad news; the cats have apparently objected to the snow and messed on the floor.

The good news; I have cat litter and a tray, so make them up a toilet.

The bad news; they flee at the sight of this, out through the cat flap and sit under the hedge where they proceed to do the things cats need to do.

The good news; the snow is still jolly pretty and now that I am warm and can feel my toes again, there was a nice jolly epic-ness of the four hour hike I hadn't planned to do. And now it's snowing again.

I'm not entirely sure how we're going to get that bottle of oxybutinin tomorrow though... I am however considering the purchase of a milk-float, this apparently being more reliable than delivery lorries, post vans, and carers four wheel drive cars.
Tia

*Swedish Apple Charlotte a favourite here; cooked apple underneath with cornflakes, butter and sugar on the top. Had no cornflakes and so made it with porridge oats instead. No longer Swedish but vaguely Scottish, so renamed after my sister-in-law.

22

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!

Happy Birthday, Goldie

Deep and Crisp and Even

I'm going outAnd coming in againThis snow is cold

And I am freezing

And I want to go out again

And get up again

And build snowcastles

And now I'm freezing again.
Can we go inside again?
And can we go outside again?
It's a very serious matter.
We need to build a snowman.

Ooo look at our neighbours' lights

Is it Christmas yet?

Shortbread - for Anna

Very simple -

4 oz butter,
2 oz caster sugar,
6oz plain flour,
2 oz ground rice.

Put dry ingredients into a bowl, chop the butter into tiny pieces and stir it in with spoon, hands, one of those fancy things for cutting the butter into pastry dough if you have one (I don't) a food mixer, or whatever you fancy. When the butter's disappeared and the mix looks crumbly tip it out onto a floured surface and squash it together until it sticks. Shape it however you like - you can roll it out and cut rounds if you want but I generally just slap it together in the middle of a greased baking tray, shape it into a rectangle and then cut it into fingers. Stab it all over with a fork, then shove it into an oven at 160C (320F, gas 3) until it's just starting to brown slightly - anywhere from 15 minutes to 40 depending on how thick you've made it. I like mine slightly underdone so it's almost chewy; cook it for longer and it'll be crunchier.

Tia