Happiness is

A small girl, seeing her Grandad for the first time after he has had a week away. I realise we are spoilt having my parents so close by (5 minute walk away), but oh my, Little Fish loves her Grandad (who she calls Daddeeeeeee, always entertaining when we are at the supermarket together).

We go to the first service at church, which finishes at around a quarter to eleven. Mum and Dad go to the second service, starting at quarter past eleven. So we usually meet in the middle with church coffee (same as ordinary coffee, except that it is served in rather nasty green china cups with saucers just too small to hold a biscuit. Oh, and it's FairTrade.) and church biscuits (same as ordinary biscuits (unless GodZone have been busy), just slightly mauled by the hordes of small children hunting for the perfect, unblemished, chocolate digestive).

We have two services at church because the church itself is too small to hold the full congregation all at once. The church hall (where we have coffee) is smaller than the church itself. This makes for an interesting mix - two congregations, hordes of small children all newly released from Sunday School and needing to zoom, elderly ladies arriving for the second service needing space for zimmer frames and sticks, crowds of people, each of whom need to grab someone else to sort out something small but essential for housegroup, Brownies, midweek toddler group, whatever it happens to be. And large quantities of hot drinks. We have so far had no fatalities. At least not at coffee time.

So, it is in the middle of an extremely crowded room that Grannie and Grandad manage to sneak up on us. In an instant, Little Fish is transformed from small thing in a chair clutching me around the knees to whizzing, wheelying, squeaking Tigger of a child, throwing herself from side to side in her chair, unable to believe her eyes that DADDEEEEEEEEEEE is back. He's only been gone 9 days; I wonder how she'll cope next time they have a proper holiday? A problem for the future; for now DADDDEEEE is here and all is well with the world.

Oh and for utter ecstacy, have Grannie and Grandad call in unexpectedly in the afternoon and play games with the big red toy bus. "Daddeeeeee's cool" say Little Fish. Flip-top-head Mog agrees.

Tia

A Duvet Day Diverted

This morning did not start well. Mog woke up very unhappy, crying except when she was sitting on my lap. Little Fish woke up just fine, but then started crying every time I picked Mog up. So I had the two girls, one crying and one smirking, depending on whether Mog was in her chair or on my lap.

Getting increasingly frustrated (8AM is way too early to be getting tired of dealing with the children by the way), I started making plans for us all to spend the day in my bed. Put Mog down for long enough to find a decent childfriendly DVD (sobs from Mog, smiles from Little Fish), pick Mog back up again and hunt for a decent book for myself (smiles from Mog, hysteria from Little Fish), make a pot of coffee, and generally frazzle myself with the alternating wails.

Until, from Little Fish "Mog nee a ba" (Mog needs a bath). All tears dry up from both girls. I ask Mog if she does need a bath and get a great big flip-top-head "yes" grin from her. Little Fish begins to strip herself off too; apparently they both need a bath.

So, I fill the bath, plonk Mog in her bath aid and dump Little Fish in the 8 inches of water the bath aid leaves behind. Both girls start singing. I, meanwhile, discover that I can reach the doorway of the bathroom with the computer still plugged in, so I am happy sitting on the floor and catching up with emails as they play. Heave them out after 40 minutes or so and the world is a much brighter place.

So much so that I decide to go on a quest for a Christmas Tree this afternoon. Little Fish seems interested in the "Oley Baby" but we don't find one of them to take home. Do find a tree, and although it's a couple of weeks earlier than I'd usually decorate, I decide that the forthcoming adoption day is worth celebrating too.

Good times.

And then I find the ornament that Goldy painted last year.

Tia

Not suitable for vegetarians

This is a gratuitously carnivorous post. You have been warned.

Somerfield's had some reduced joints of beef yesterday. £0.79, too good to miss. Came home, and roasted it. Now the instructions on the pack conflicted mightily with the instructions in my never-fail cookbook, so I split the difference. And in due course, carved up a beautifully squelchily medium rare roast. Not being inclined to faff around with roasting potatoes and sorting out a pile of vegetables and Yorkshire Puddings, I sliced open a couple of bread rolls and made a roast beef sandwich.

Yum.

Moist, tender, mildly pink. I retreated to the sitting room, beef sarnie in one hand, book in the other. Took a few mouthfuls, completely delicious. And then noticed that the bread itself had taken on a nicely pinkish tinge, and that there were drops of blood spattering the book. Returning to the kitchen I discovered the remains of the joint now sitting in a large pool of blood which had seeped across the kitchen counter and under the sugar bowl.

So did I
a) heave mightily and send the sandwich northwards?
b) return the remainder of the joint to the oven to cook a little longer?
c) finish the sandwich taking care to catch the blood on the plate rather than on the book?

Mmmm protein.
Tia

Miscellanea

It's tough having Little Fish as a friend sometimes. Firstly there's her habit of running you over in her wheelchair, and the fact that she can make her chair go faster than you can toddle. It's not fair when you get stuck in your buggy and have to rely on a grown-up to push you about, whereas Little Fish gets to move her own big wheels around (and clamp her hands onto the wheels to stop Mummy from moving it if there's something she wants to take a better look at. Like a bus going past, or an ambulance, or a dog, or a car, or a crack in the pavement, or a sweet wrapper, or a well you get my drift). But then even once you're inside and having fun somewhere like the ballpool where ability to walk is reasonably irrelevant, it's still tough dealing with her speech impediment.

Little Fish has two friends. To the rest of the world, they are known as Danny and Jamie. According to Little Fish, they are "Debbie" and "Amy the boy-boy". They don't seem to mind.

Yet.
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I asked school about costumes today. Just as well I did; having brought out the same Mary costume three years in a row, this year both girls are angels. Little Fish may fit into a pillowcase, but I think Mog will need something a little more substantial. Tinsel halos it is then. Do angels have wings, or is that just fairies?
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No sign of the pox yet, unless a request for bed at 5.30 three nights in a row is a sign of more than just a busy set of days.
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Bob has been absent today, a planned absence at a trade fair. He's having large quantities of wood delivered here tomorrow morning, so I hope he turns back up again. I notice the lawn mower he left last time has been smuggled out of the house again; I had told his wife I was keeping it hostage until the work was finished. He has however left his mug, and his mate has left a packet of chocolate biscuits (mad fool!). We shall see.

I have enjoyed a day without the noise of the saw and the hammer. But my garden is now full of large wooden frames; apparently I now need two separate areas of decking and a wooden pathway. I was not previously aware of this need. I am also apparently in need of sunken outdoor lighting and a more complicated setting for Mog's fountain. I have however managed to convince him there is no need for a summer house. When I look out of my windows I see a garden perhaps 30 foot long and 20 foot wide. I wonder what size garden he sees, that it needs all these things?

I'm starting to think it might actually be finished by Christmas this time. I should probably stop thinking that way. To quote Friend, herself quoting from Clockwise "It's not the despair. I can handle the despair. It's the hope...." (nb disclaimer here; I've never watched it so can't recommend it or condemn it, I just like the line).
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I think I need to change Little Fish's nickname. I've just found her trying to feed herself a large pinch of Aquarian Tropical Flakes. Must go.
Tia

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

The good:

Next week.
Monday is ADOPTION DAY for Little Fish, assuming all goes well. Just found out this afternoon.
Tuesday I have a whole day off; charity sitter coming to meet Little Fish from nursery and will stay until Mog gets back from school, so I have six whole hours in a row when I need to be out of the house and without children. That last happened in October 2006.
Wednesday we are having "Carol-oke" and mince pies with housegroup in the evening, and in the morning I get to watch my girls in their school Nativity. As the only female pupil in the class, Mog has been Mary for the past three years in a row. She has competition this year; I wonder how they will handle it?
Thursday I have been invited to a Christmas Dinner for parents of children with complex medical needs, a nice meal for myself and trained nurses to care for the girls whilst I eat it in the company of friends. Great!
Friday is an empty day with no appointments at all in it.
And on Saturday Mog's rellies are coming to visit.

The bad:
This week.
Yesterday I had some really sickening news which unfortunately I can't share.
Today I have had phone call after phone call trying to minimise the effect of this news, and learnt that someone has chosen to destroy all the well wisher cards given to Goldy when she moved on from my care. I cannot deal with any more stresses to do with Goldy; I assumed that the funeral would end things but instead whole new levels of stress are opening themselves out.
Tomorrow I have a series of unpleasant appointments.
Thursday we all get our 'Flu vaccines.

And the ugly:
Me, after next week's mammoth run of decent meals and many mince pies.
Oh, and that caroloke? I have to play the piano for it.

Roll on next week
Tia

And it's not eleven o'clock yet

So far this morning I have:
Lost Mog's handsplint.
Mislaid Little Fish's school book.
Watched the school bus come, disappear, and return again having forgotten to collect the escort.
Cooked up a batch of chicken and rice, pureed it all nicely for the girls and forgotten to dish out a plate of unpureed for me first.
Collected the latest batch of windfalls, and had to leave several for the slugs.
Been given a list of things to do on behalf of Goldy's relatives. Not pleasant things.
Had to track down one woman's phone number; a process which took 3 separate phonecalls to three separate secretaries across the county, each one of whom could simply have opened the internal directory and passed the number on, but instead chose to pass me to another administrator.
Received a message from my babysitter informing me that she is ill and has to cancel tonight.
Spoken to the mother of the children Little Fish was playing with on Wednesday, who informs me that her daughter has just gone down with chicken pox.
Found Mog's missing swimming costume; the one I had to replace last week.
Lost, completely and utterly, the new roll of bin bags I bought last week - and naturally only discovered this after throwing out the half full bin bag that was still in the bin and would otherwise have lasted until I bought new replacements.
And had Bob the builder turn up to work after his absence vowing to finish but being in visible agony from a kidney infection. Better laying decking with a kidney infection than laying a flat roof with a broken arm I suppose.
Here's where Bob is working today.

My one bright spot is the discovery, yesterday, of the boots my friend wore to Goldy's funeral. It is of course not wonderful that she's left them behind, and I'm thinking she'll probably need them over Christmas. The bright spot bit is that we now have a reason to get together again and soon. And Friend, if you're reading this, I didn't hide them, I promise! They were tucked beside the gas fire. With a wineglass.

I must go, whilst typing this the squash I was baking for alternative pureed meals has burnt. What next?
Tia

More from Little Fish.

First thing this morning, and at intervals throughout the day
"Kee kee Mog dool me". Quick, quick, Mog and I need to go to school. She's determined today is Monday. Wouldn't mind but Mog has been sitting in her chair with a great wide open mouth "Yes" of agreement. Little Fish even consented to go to bed early tonight in order to bring tomorrow here sooner. "kee, kee, Mummy carkeys bah Dool Mog Me get there kee". Quickly, mother mine, get the carkeys, get us into the bus, we want to go to school and get there quickly.

Golly the holidays are going to be fun - three weeks without any kind of school at all.

So now Little Fish is all tucked up neatly in bed and dreaming of getting to school as soon as she possibly can first thing in the morning. Mog meanwhile is tucked up rather less neatly in her bed (there's a complicated propping up on pillows thing going on and we still haven't found the perfect angle) and seems determined to stay awake until morning incase she falls asleep and misses the bus.

It's good to know they enjoy school. I'm not sure what Little Fish will think of it next term; for now she goes to Mog's special school a couple of mornings a week but at some point next year she'll be starting mainstream preschool too. One little whirlwind in a wheelchair vs a large hall of little horrors lovely helpful children. I think she'll love it. No, I know she'll love it. Not so sure her 1:1 will love it though; especially as she starts really taking on board the implications of keeping LF alive and well. Fun times ahead.

There is something magical about two small girls, especially at this time of year. S, "electrical interference" is a great description and pretty accurate. When the interference isn't running. Mog is starting to get excited now as we light our advent candle. I was feeling pretty smug having finished the majority of my Christmas shopping before the end of November, despite having one or two other little things on my mind. It was with a sense of satisfaction that I clicked on the final "process my order" button and mentally added the list of parcels to be delivered to the bags of things already bought or made.

And with a dawning sense of irritability and confusion that I realised I had somehow completely forgotten to think about finding things for the girls. In one sense it really doesn't matter what I find for them; Little Fish is at that wonderful stage where a gift is a marvellous thing simply because it is a gift, and Mog just likes the atmosphere and the Christmas lights and shiny paper. I had been concentrating on the fact that I don't have to find a Christmas present for Goldy this year (or a birthday present either) that I had completely forgotten there were still two little girls at home to shop for. Oops.

Suggestions?
Tia