Would you rather?

WARNING: This is NOT a post for the weak-stomached. Non-carers may wish to back away now.

So, Sunday morning, there I was all dressed up for church, and then there I was, with the elderly contents of a suction pump cascading down my back and into my pants.

I thought I'd reached a new low. There's something about cold bodily fluids, so much more unpleasant than ones still at body temperature. Reach round into a wheelchair to straighten a child's hips and come up with a hand coated in poo? Annoying (where are those spare wheelchair covers?), but not too gross. That squidgy warm sensation when you realise the child on your lap has just overflowed their pad? Ho hum. Even the great tidal vomit of 2004* was somehow less disgusting in its freshness.

Stale suctionings were, I thought, a new low point. Until today. I emptied the nappy bin. The liner in the bin split as I was emptying it, and somehow, a used anal catheter leapt out of the bin and hit me in the face.

So my question for today is, which would you rather?
My supplemental question would be, anyone want to come and look after the girls whilst I go on holiday somewhere far, far away from here, with endless hot water and expensively luxuriant bath foam?

Tia

*The Great Tidal Vomit.

Long ago, when Mog was just a little wee thing, she used to sit on a Tumbleform on our kitchen table. Wedged between the wall and the 'fridge, she was beautifully safe, and perfectly placed to join in with our mealtimes. Goldie used to sit facing her, and I'd sit between them, where I could slow Goldie's eating down and try yet again to wedge another teaspoon of mush between Mog's reluctant lips.

We had savoury rice one night. Mince, rice, cheese, veg. Nicely prepared, deliciously scented, reasonably mashable, and apparently good enough that Goldie wanted two big bowls of it. Possibly a touch over seasoned; at any rate Goldie was also extremely thirsty and had a couple of drinks too.

Meal over, I pushed Goldie away from the table to reach around her and wipe up the debris. It was at this point which Goldie opened her mouth and poured forth not just two helpings of savoury rice, but also her lunch, and even the Weetabix, toast and poop goop she'd had for breakfast that morning. Together with all the drinks she'd had for the past 24 hours. With impressive velocity, she managed to hit the opposite wall. With remarkable spreading capacity, she managed to coat myself, the table, the floor, and the 'fridge. Oh, and herself too.

Mog, showing early promise for the daintily elegant child she would grow into, sat quietly beautiful, Piedro-booted feet tap dancing gently in the ocean of vomit, the rest of her totally untouched and apparently unaware and above such things.

Where do you start? Dripping with vomit, I stripped myself off rather than spread it further. I then stripped Goldie, and used the cleaner bits of her and my clothing to do an initial mop up. Depositing Goldie on the shower trolley, I hosed her down, mopped the floor and finished sorting the cupboards, and then, shivering, opened my bedroom door to find myself some clean clothes. I flung the door open and walked into my room. Heading for the wardrobe, I approached my large, ground floor, window. And realised that much of the population of two local secondary schools was walking down the road, staring back in at me. Dropping to the floor, I commando-crawled across the carpet, reached up towards my wardrobe and blindly tugged at whatever I could reach, throwing it on ducked down under the window and then attempting to gather what little dignity I had left and walking out of my room without a backwards glance.

I bought net curtains the next day.

Sunday AllSorts

Sometimes my life seems to sum itself up into a series of Facebook Statuses (Stati?). Unrelated snapshots from the day.

Thus, this morning: Nor day nor night no carers.

Despite the lack of carer, I manage to get us mostly ready for church on time. Two of the three of us have brushed our teeth, using three of the four toothbrushes available to us. Two of the three of us have suffered to have our hair brushed, but not with our favourite hairbrush which has been left in Shropshire. Two of the three of us have had breakfast and one of the three of us has had a pint of tea. This may not be the best plan immediately before church. One of the three of us has picked up the suction pump, swung it across her shoulder, then, forgetting it is there, leaned forwards to pick up a candlestick, sending a deluge of cold and cabbagey suctioned secretions cascading down her back and into her pants. One of the three of us may never feel totally clean again, and is considering DIY dermabrasion. This same third of us is thinking that suction pumps ought to come with sealed containers. And an alert to remind carers to empty after use.

Later morning: A good service; always nice when God shows up too. I'm left wondering which Jesus I know best right now. Afterwards, a kind woman asks me how long I think it would take her to become familiar with the girls' needs, as she'd like to start babysitting for us.

Throughout the day: Tia is enjoying the King James Version Bible readings on BBC Radio 4.

Later: Tia is still enjoying the KJV readings but finding the Peppa Pig soundtrack to be a somewhat surreal accompaniment. Mog's chimes, on the other hand, add a certain "High Church" atmosphere.

Still later: Tia is hoping there will be a CD available at some point, because the readings are too rich to try to fight a losing battle with noisy children and hungry cats. And because Mog might enjoy listening herself as a change from Norah Jones one night.

And now: Tia is still feeling unclean, unclean, following the unfortunate suction encounter. Carers remain absent, and whilst Tia would be feeling smug about having managed to get both girls into bed and asleep slightly earlier than with the carers present, a brief glance around the room reveals the things Tia has not been doing in order to accomplish this.

Tomorrow, school for both girls and then a hospice trip for Mog. So now, bath with a Brillo pad or blitz the house to avoid embarrassment when tomorrow morning's carer arrives? Sadly no carer tomorrow either, so I'm guessing bath wins out,

Tia

Funderful

"Oh wow, Mummy, this is absolutely FUNDERFUL! It is amazing to be outside and it is night and we are in the water and it is hot and bubbly. "

One hot tub. Definitely the highlight of LF's week away. Myself, I'll vote for the company, closely followed by the cottage, but 'll go along with funderful as a description.

One very lovely holiday cottage, far bigger than it looks, with a very lovely fireplace. One set of insanely steep and twisty wooden stairs, making getting four wheelchair-using children into bed interesting. But a piano, a hot tub, a washing machine and a dryer and a dishwasher, a giant garden, and sand-proof (don't ask) quarry tiled floors; one very relaxing week.

Lovely.

Tia

Music, maestro!

The only thing better than making music by yourself
is making it with a friend.


And the only thing better than a duet for voice and chimesis cuddles!

Tia

Pause

We are on holiday. Poor phone signal and one charger between the three of us. Lovely cottage, good friends, happy children, potential for a hood week. But probably not much blogging! All well here though, for those of you who worry.

Tia

Christmas Blessings

Love - to everyone. Especially for those who are spending Christmas alone or in the company of fewer people this year, through bereavement, through illness, relationship break down or simply travel difficulties, may you be filled with Christmas Love today.

Joy - to the World! May there be moments of Joy even for those with children who do not understand the pleasure and excitement around them. A special smile, a giggle, the little things we live for - may these be present today and our children's gifts to us, especially for those with very sick children today.

Peace - that peace which passes understanding to all those of us who are troubled in mind and spirit today. The peace which comes from sending the children outside or into another room to play with new toys to all those who already need a break from overexcited children. The Peace of mind which brings the ability to rise above digs from awkward houseguests to all those who need it!

Patience - with children who have been awake for hours, and with children who don't seem to want to wake up at all. Patience to children, with an acceptance that certain things need to be done and will happen in their own good time.

Kindness - instead of snappy answers, may I (and anyone else similarly snappily inclined) dig into that reserve of Peace and Patience and manage to find a sweet smile, a battery, a screwdriver or pair of scissors, and the willingness to forgive, especially to forgive the refusal to eat sprouts and parsnips.

Goodness - may there be Good Things happening generally today. Good News for those who need it, in tiny measures and in big ones too. Good gifts appreciated by giver and givee.

Faithfulness - to all who are Believers, may today bring a reminder of all that has been and is to come. May the God in whom we have our Faith multiply it and sustain us.

Gentleness - to encourage my children to make the right choices rather than dragging them from what they want to be doing towards what I need them to do. To accept outrageous suggestions from elderly relatives and apply the "never going to happen, so don't get het up about it" filter rather than attempting an unworkable re-education programme.

Self-control - to all who stand in need of it, both ourselves and those around us!

Wishing you all a very Happy Christmas and a Bright New Year,
Tia

A Christmas Carol

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part,-
Yet what I can I give Him
Give my heart. Christina Rosetti