Im going to be a God Mother...

I'm a bit overwhelmed, today Annette asked me if I would be Orla's Godmother, I cried, we hugged, she laughed at me.

I'm so very, very proud and honoured and all of that stuff...

Now, the serious bit - what the hell does a Godmother do!!!!


Babies Beautiful


A bit of DIY at home with the Missus


Orla at home in Switzerland

Old McDonald had a farm...

Its half term and we know that most places would be manic, so we set off today for the Whitehouse Farm, reasoning that its big and even with crowds it wouldn't be too chaotic. Its about 30 mins up the A1 and a rather pleasant drive, Annette and I meandered through the usual diverse range of conversations, I'm not sure if its because she is Swiss, or just because we get along so well, but we have the most strangest, honest, revealing conversations. Never a dull moment!!

Any Hoo - we got to Whitehouse farm and waited in line with all the other 100's of mummies and daddies who had had the same idea (bugger them). Dylan was very non British and decided after 10 mins of waiting in line that the best thing to do was run down to the beginning of the que and push on through. Most folks thought it was funny, but there were a few who tutted at this blatant show of "pushing in".

Hauled back and made to stand in line he winged and whined about "PIG". We eventually got to the paying in Shed to find one very harassed lady - my inability to provide my membership card didn't go down too well and we were eventually just waved through - she obviously had far too much to deal with!

Once inside we viewed the giant rabbits, the goats

Don't be scared little goat, I'm your friend


Can't you tell she is farm born and bred!


Be nice goaty or the sheep gets the lot

The budgies, the PIGS, the wallabies, the deer (Dylan still insists that they are goats), the sheep


With a Ba, Ba here and

the cows


Annette and Dylan with a Swiss Cow.

"Moooo-ving on"

It really is a gorgeous place to meander and very child friendly. Dylan and Orla loved interacting with the animals, I think Annette enjoys it too....ohhh go on, and me too!


"Go on, do your Cow again Dylan"

Squeals of joy pervaded the afternoon and both babes tried out their growing vocab and noises - "MOOOOOOO"

We had a frantic meal, service in the canteen was little better than the entrance shed, and then headed off for a meandering drive back through the countryside. God I'm so lucky to have places like this to visit and friends like these to go with.

Valentines Day.

Valentine's Day is a holiday celebrated on February 14. In North America and Europe, it is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending Valentine's cards, presenting flowers, or offering confectionery. The holiday is named after two early Christian martyrs named Valentine. The day became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished.

Valentines Day - The day of declairing love, of sharing with your partner, lover, husband, wife, significant other that you love them.

Why just on this day?

I woke this morning expecting nothing, Im not in a situation to be loaded down with cards and flowers. But my one conciliation was knowing that I probably wouldn’t be the only girl in the world, who wasn’t waiting for the postman to come to my door laden with gifts. And in a way that made me happy.

Annette and Susan confirmed my suspicion that romance dies soon after child birth by declaring that their partners had not exactly bestowed gifts of flowers, chocolates and Diamonds upon them.... not even a card.

But we discussed it and we all agreed that it was really just another poopy commercialisation, a day when flowers cost the earth and those who haven’t got anyone to adore and love are made to feel inadequate.

Who needs it?

I got home to have my next door neighbour deliver a huge box with a lovely red ribbon tied around it, upon opening my box of loveliness out popped a balloon, in the box was a little fibre optic bracelet - the sort 16 year olds wear on the dance floor to show how cool they are, some little chocolates, a little light - no idea what it does a red rose and some rose petals.

You should have seen my smile - God Im a hypocrite.

I have since discovered who my anonymous admirer is - and that’s my secret, but I can say it wasn’t Colin Firth....

One month on and

Im tired, stressed and it’s primarily my fault. I have come to realise that a lot of my problems start with my inability to deal with stuff straight on. I have to ponder on it, mulch it round, have constant conversations with myself, deciding the outcomes of conversations with other people, to - in short - totally fuck up the situation and not act when I should.

Im supposed to be going back to work, I went in to see my Dr and discussed my return with him, and I was all set for it. Then I met up with my Mick (he of the Tatehood) and flammy (Yes that is Flammy).

When it comes down to the basics things at work are changing and my position is going to be one of the positions that change. But in the interim, no one can tell me what Im supposed to do, or when these changes will happen. So Im in limbo, but as far as Mick was concerned I would be returning to work on the 3rd March full time. Now there has been no discussion on this, no "consultation". He just sent me a letter and told me to sign it.

I’ve spent the last two weeks panicking because I needed to sort out child care for Dylan, I was contemplating life as a full time worker - not having any quality time with Dylan and it made me weep. It made me stressed, it’s made me have many a sleepless night cause Im chewing the cud on "what ifs" and "Whys".

But yesterday I took the bull by the horns and confronted my fears; I call occupational Health and queried my return. They knew nothing of it. Then I called my Union rep (Yes Bruvvers Im a fully paid up member) and my Union rep thinks that everything that is happening to me is "bullying" and "not in accordance to procedures". She has taken the bit between her teeth and is out for blood.

I’ve no idea if this means I dont have to go back to work, Im hoping a phased return will be given to me, which will mean I return to work slowly... Im hoping that they will be able to negotiate with work and get me my part time hours... Im hoping.

Dylan is so growed up

Today I went out with Annette, we played in a park, or should I say Dylan and Orla played in a park (I only went down the big slide once) and then we went for a coffee.

On the way home I snapped this pic of Dylan and Orla

Juvenile Delinquents in training - I can hear the ASBO's hitting the floor!

Im living with Keefe again.

Ha, how many of you just splutterd all over the computer board! That sentance is enough to make anyone splutter, but its just a convenience thing. His convenience my stupidity.

Every year the caravan site closes down for 8 weeks, usually we have stayed at mums, but this year for some sick and unknown reason I offered my home as refuge. Its going to be hard.

We had a huge argument the day before he moved in, he was rude, arrogant and totally unrespectful - but then I am a selfish "oscar" who thinks the world should do whatever I want.

Hmmm going to fun over the next 6 weeks.

Simple Friends Vs Real Friends

A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.

A simple friend has never seen you cry.
A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.

A simple friend doesn't know your parents' first names.
A real friend has their phone numbers in his address book.

A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.
A real friend comes >early to help you cook and stays late to help you clean.

A simple friend hates it when you call after he has gone to bed.
A real friend asks you why you took so long to call.

A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.
A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.

A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
A real friend could blackmail you with it.

A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you have an argument.
A real friend calls you after you had a fight.

A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
A real friend expects to always be there for you!

Sometimes I have to wonder if Im a real friend or a simple friend to some of my friends....

Blue Reefe Aquarium.

In our search to find something to do that might entertain the bairns I have become a member of the aquarium in Cullercoats, it used to have a bit of a crappy reputation, but either being totally desperate and needing somewhere to take my nearly 2 year old has changed my perception or this place has actually improved over the years since I last went there.

There are lots of fish to see, some very beautiful and some a bit bizarre, there is also a seal tank, which I'm kinda against, but hey ho (wind your neck in)



Seals - Where?


WooooooW

and an otter thang, which stinks to high heaven - have to say that to date I have never seen an otter.

It kills a good hour and Dylan always seems to have fun running round and hiding from me. I actually spend most of my time in the aquarium in mid panic, imagining that I'm going to get round the corner after chasing my somewhat elusive son to find him swimming in one of the tanks.

Anyway Annette, Orla, Ruth, Josh, Dylan and I all headed down there today for a walk around and the obligatory coffee.


Orla and Josh looking at Sharks


Ruth and Josh

Today, the babes seemed more interested in the bit of a swing park

Ruth and Orla just hanging!

Dylan convinced Josh that playing in the shrubs was much more fun that the silly slide,


They seek him here....


Where is that Dylan gone?

All in all a rather pleasant day.

Boobs gone bad - NHS Even worse!

Well it’s been another of those days that makes me wonder why and if Im really getting my life back together again. I spent the morning with Helene and Archie, Groine and Fin and Emily, Ellie and Ella. We had major fun running round Kikis like idiots, sliding down slides and paddling through the ball pools.

A couple of times I felt quite sore, but all it all it actually felt quite good to be out and about again. Dylan loved the interaction with the other kids and I was surprised at how he was playing with them. Over the last couple of weeks he has, along with me, been pretty house bound. We got out a few times, but I was unable to play with him or really bounce around how we usually do.

Anyway, 2 hours of playing and we were almost ready to leave, only Dylan discovered the paint table and wailed to be allowed to play. After 20 mins of painting almost everything in site including the chair, his hair and his top I decided enough was enough. Everyone was staring at us as if I was mad to let my child carry on in this bohemian way. I loved it, he loved it and the mess he made would be easily cleared up.

Just as we were leaving Jo, with Solomon and Helen with Raphael came in. I haven’t seen Jo or Sol for months – Solomon’s birthday me thinks, which was in October. So we played for another 20 mins, Solomon showed Dylan how to bump down the stairs on his belly – looking forward to him doing that at home and I caught up with Jo.

So why all the explanation, well whilst I was running round like a mad un, my boobs were feeling really sore. Every now and then I would get a shooting pain right from my nipple. I kinda, in my usual way just ignored the bally thing. But by 3 o’clock this afternoon I decided enough was enough and I exposed my breasts to my mother.

She took one look and called the Drs. I bumbled of to see Dr Mac at 5.30. He took another look and explained that I was going to have to be admitted to hospital cause me slight infection from earlier on had got worse and with me already being on oral antibiotics I was now going to have to hit the big time – intravenous drip…. YIPEEE!

So off me poodled, bag packed thinking I would be admitted pretty quick as they had already agreed I had a bed. But no… 4hrs later Im sat here typing on my little puter cause Im bored witless and don’t want to read my book in case I can’t access my puter on the ward.

The only thing that is keeping me entertained is spider on my puter and the drunk running round A&E yelling "KEEEEE-A-Gannnnn - he's our man. For those of you who dont do football (snigger that includes me) Keving Keegan has apparently just taken over as Manager for Newcastle - and this is a good thing.

God somebody save me Im talking football!!!

Im living with Keefe again.

Ha, how many of you just spluttered all over the computer board! That sentence is enough to make anyone splutter, but its just a convenience thing. His convenience, my stupidity.

Every year the caravan site closes down for 8 weeks, usually we have stayed at mums, but this year for some sick and unknown reason I offered my home to him. It made sense at the time (I may have been on heavy doses of drugs).

Anyway following a wonderful argument last night, he almost didn’t move in - long story and one far to annoying to blog about - but today he condescended to move into mine as his stuff was already there. Like I give a flying fart!

We have spent the afternoon being very polite and side stepping issues like rules. Im definitely going to have to sit down with him and set out some of the things I really would like him to do - cause already he is annoying the hell out of me.

Time will tell, a hatchet in the head will tell more.

Gone!!

It was a week ago that I had my stitches removed, and today whilst picking up the up the wee man. I felt confident, I felt great, we played, I jiggled him about, I kissed...

That night after bathing the wee chap I was holding him against me. He placed his hands down my top, he furked around... he looked at me... he furked some more... and then he said "Gone"... "Where". And I explained.....


Two days later, we played, I threw him up in the air.... I brought him down and I sat him on my hip - like all mummies hold their babies - and I split... couple of steristrips applied by the wonderful mummy, along with the knowing smile and "14 days to heal outside... 6 weeks to heal inside" and I was sorted.

God I hate it when mummies are right.

Three days later I was at the Dr's for a check up and the nurse booked me in for an immediate appointment... its hot and red.

I bared my boobs to Dr Mac (My latest God) who said "god they're gorgeous...hmmm infected... hmmm ...antibiotics".. Best thing he said was " you can drink on these though" - he knows me so well!

So this is me... infected, sightly less confident but still loving the whole thing.

The boobs are released

Its now been three weeks since my operation, this morning I got my mummy to take some pics of my boobs - dressings included. There hasn't been much pain, just soreness. I had a slight accident picking Dylan up and had a little tear, but a steristip soon covered the damage and I was back on track.

SO.... with all the "are you going to post pics" emails, Im baring all....and it ain't pretty.



The shadow underneath is bruising... promise... its not fat...

Stitches out.

The 27th of December dawned and I headed off to the hospital again, this time to have the stitches removed and the dressing checked.

Took myself off with a box of chocolates and a thank you card for the staff of ward 46. I eventually found the ward, sadly non of the staff who looked after me were on shift, but I left the chocolates and headed off to the outpatients dept.

The nurse I saw - Shelly - took me into a little room and again I undressed. Im begining to get used to taking off my clothes for complete strangers, maybe I should think about a career change.

My stitches, unbeknown to me, were dissoluble ones. Once the dressings were removed, there I was in all my glory. I could hardly believe how little scaring or bruising I had. Shelly put on some soft dressing stuff that holds the cuts together like stitches but doesn't actually invade the body. That was it. I was cleaned up a bit, Shelly said how good everything looked, and on with my clothes.

In a weeks time I'm allowed to have proper bath, which will dissolve the dressing stuff, from then on I have to follow these rules for the next four weeks:
Don't drive.
Don't lift anything heavy.
Don't do anything that hurts!

Easier said than done.

Christmas, pain and alcohol free - almost

The last couple of days have been a real pain in the boobs - Gosh get me the comedian. Ive been on pain killers much of the time, so pretty spaced out and sleeping for England. It hurts to move my arms, my back hurts, my head hurts and most of all my bally lips hurt. The swelling on my boobs and lips is finally starting to go down. Mum has been pretty fantastic, keeping me fed, cleaned and controlling Dylan.

I guess the hardest thing has been not holding Dylan, not being able to pick him up when he fell over, or cuddle him when he was going off to sleep. Mum has had him in her bed at nights and Ive really missed waking up with the little bloke. Mind you she hasnt had the best of sleeps with him in her bed and I really couldnt thank her enough for looking after him. But have to admit that all in all things have been hard. Ive attempted to help at times, but most of the time all Ive been able to do is potter round the house moving a glass here, a cup there. I couldn't even open my beloved coke bottles without assistance.

Shane came home for Christmas, so he helped mum with the Christmas dinner. Keefe dropped the wee man off at about 11ish Christmas morning, I was fretting to open the Christmas presents, but Dylan chose to sleep. Bugger!

He finally woke up at 1o'clock and the unwrapping began. As normal I'd told everyone not to buy anything much and as normal everyone ignored me.



Dylan got:

A Boat


A cleaning set - perfect gift for my perfect man.


A Tweenies bathset, some stickly bricks, lots of puzzles, a fire engine and

Pumkin - Gandie had a go on him

Nanny San had a go on him


Then Dylan had a go on him.

My best present was cuddles from my wee man.

Christmas dinner was the usual triumph I have come to expect when mum and Shane get together in the Kitchen.



Far too much food, far too much richness and far too many yummies. However only a few glasses of the good stuff were imbibed, due to me on pain killers, Dad's diabetes and Mum just not drinking.

It was a lovely day though and as Dylan went down to bed I lay with him in my arms tonight, for the first time in what seemed like ages, full of bonhomie and good cheer.


Happy Christmas everyone!

The big Operation

Well I set off for the hospital with dad, because traffic in Newcastle was horrible, we were going in on the metro. Ive not been on the metro for ages it was actually quite nice. Had a chat with dad, stressed about the operation, bit my nails...

Dad took me to buy two new bra's. 34DD and 34E. Its been years since Ive brought a bra in a "normal" store, it was quite exciting, so many choices. Of course I had been told my the hospital that I needed to purchase sports bras, but the idea of purchasing something pretty, with lace and matching pants in months to come made me really happy. I left dad to do the rest of his shopping and with my ruck sack headed up to the hospital. I hate hospitals, so walked with some trepidation up to ward 46,"Sorry" they said, "you've been moved to ward 46". I headed back down the corridor with my head thrumming. Did I really want this operation, did I really need it? Couldn't I just carry on how I was, was I so wrong? I stood in the hallway for about 5 minutes talking myself into and out of the operation. Eventually I took my courage in my hands and pushed open the doors.

The staff on ward 46 were lovely, I even had my own room, with on suite bathroom. My god, all on NHS. Within a hour of me being in they had took my blood, done my pre-op shots and I was just sat waiting for Mr Collis to show up. A very nice young lady came and asked if I minded donating my spare flesh, so they could do some tests and stuff to find the cure for something or other and I happily signed away my excess boobs.

Dad dropped in to see how it was all going and got me a book. As he was arriving back with the book Mr Collis turned up. You have to tell Drs the truth, Ive seen "House" and know people do lie to their Drs, but I tend to deal with those in the medical profession as demi-gods. So when he asked me if I smoked I admitted to smoking occasionally - erm... quite often... well almost daily. Dad looked at me with shock - "You smoke!"

That little shock out the way nothing else mattered, so when Mr Collis asked me if he could see my breasts I immediately whipped em out - as you do! He then got out a black felt tip pen and proceeded to draw on me. Nipples, cut marks, explaining how and what he was going to do. "I've got a small op to do at 5, then will come for you, your my main attraction" he said with a confidant smile and a bit of a twinkle.

I was given one of those lovely hospital robes, which cover nothing and told "We'll be back to pick you up soon". The head anaesthetist came in and introduced himself to me, did I have any questions "No", did I understand what was going to happen "Yes", was I happy? "Maybe". 5pm came all to quickly, I sat attempting to read my book remaining calm.

Its strange how slowly the clock can tick, when your dreading something. But before I knew it, the door was opening Margaret walked in "come on Shannon, we're off to Surgery". We walked, me trying not to show my ass to the other ward occupants and Margaret chatting away about Christmas. My friendly anaesthetist was there with his team, chatting to me like I was just out for a walk. "Pop up on here, take off your jewellery, socks, any thing else you want to ask us?".

Lets do it then, said the little assistant guy with a cheeky smile "Just a small prick, but don't hold it against me". I laughed ....

Four hours later I was waking up. God I hurt, especially my lips, my first thought was bugger I cant feel my lips, my second was "who the heck is that whistling Christmas songs". It was a nurse called Marie - who was so smiley and calming. "Shannon can you hear me, don't move, your operation went really well, Im just looking after you until you feel a bit less drowsy. You did really well." Im just going to give you some more morphine...."

I woke up again back in my room. Michelle and Tracy both shuffling round me, moving me with care. "Shannon, welcome back, you did great, how do you feel?" "hmrrrgh ... ghmrrr... happyrmmrmr". "THats good Shannon, you just lie there me and Tracy will check on you reguarly" "Water?" "Yehfhhf"

Were just going to give you some more pain killers.... mmmmmhhhhhhmmmmm.

I woke, my head like a brick. My eyes focused on the glass of water and I pushed out my hand. Water, spilled.. Michelle and Tracy in like a shot cleaning me up, changing the sheets, laughing at my bungling speech, which was finally coming back. My lips still felt like they didn't belong to me, my tongue didn't seem to know how to move in my mouth. And my chest... well that looked damn small!!!

My little drip seemed to ease most of the pain and every now and then either Michelle or Tracy would come in and administer something yummy that made the world go into fluffy mode.

I woke relatively late (from my experience in hospitals)about 7.30 by Michelle bringing me breakfast. "Can you eat? How do you feel? How are your lips?". Apparently I had kept them in stitches talking about my lips and how I was going to be the next Angelina Jole lookalike. I don't remember any of it, but I had, through the night, managed to get myself out of bed and go into the toilet. I had seen my lips and freaked cause they were really, really, really big. Both girls had to assure me that they hadn't got the operation wrong and plumped up my lips instead of getting rid of my boobs.

They thought it was hilarious. I did too, until I saw the bloody things. I was less Angelina Jole and more Lesley Ash after her little run in with Collagen. Not a pretty sight.

On the whole though, apart from my lips hurting like hell. I actually felt quite good. I had had a bleed through the night, but there was extra padding added and it felt good. My boobs were small, what did I expect, but not too small. The pain seemed manageable and I was looking forward to going home. There was alot of humming and harring. Mr Collis came, with a shed load of pimple faced students and checked out my new boobs. "Very nice" was the general consensus. "Can I go home now?" "Lets see how you are in an hour or so".

My friendly anaesthetist came in and asked how I was...I complained about my lips (ungrateful wretch that I am) he laughed and explained that I had had a really bad reaction to the anesthetic and spasmed, chomping down on my lips once the tube had been removed and thrashing like crazy - hence the additional night time care and concern about me going home.

"I feel fine, really, apart from my lips".

Pretty soon after Michelle came in to say good bye and tell me that I "was free to go". I made a call to mum and dad and packed myself up. I got dressed, a bit of a trail, and sat myself down to watch the last 30 minutes of my TV allotted time. My stay in the hospital had been great, yes read it and weep, I had a good stay. Everyone was lovely, they kept me informed and I didn't at any time feel out of control or at a loss. Annemarie, the ward sister came in with my pain killers and cleared me free to go. Dad turned up and I tenderly walked from Ward 46, feeling like a new woman.

Boobs.

Lots of people ask my why I want this operation, and I kinda give the usual backache, headaches, cant run, cant cross my arms or get clothes to fit... Its all of these things and a little bit more. I hate the way I look in a mirror. I look uneven - odd a thing of disparity. If I wear a tight top I get comments of complete strangers like "ohhh - you don't get many of them to a pound love", or " Wooooaaar, Id love to loose myself in there - wouldn't come out for a year". Incidentally I have lost things down the front of my top - mainly food - but sometimes its just not seen as polite to go "furking" down your front.

Well, and this is me being brave, not being porno or 'Readers wives', I've had a friend take a couple of shots - so I can look back and say "Yes girl, it was the right decision".

Here are my before shots (they are not pretty) - the after shots will follow in a few months.

Lipstick on your collar...

Well actually on my mirror, the bath, the hallway, his face, my leather sofa and the TV...

But boy did we laugh.

Kiki's

Ive talked about this place a couple of times, its brilliant for the little ones and gives all us mums a fab place to meet up, where we know the tots can run crazy for 2hrs and tire themselves out without causing too much damage. Obviously all this crazy running around means they get a good afternoon's nap and we can pleb somewhere on the sofa in the knowledge that little fingers wont be wiping jam over the sette in the next hour or so.

So this is Kiki's



Soft play corner


Dylan with his mate Archie. I kinda imagine Dylan and Archie sat in a similar position in about 14 years time, only this time it will be a bottle of WKD they will be sharing.


Archie in the Tunnel of noise.




Rachel and her mom. This is Dylans favourite slide, he comes down it head first and giggles all the way.

And finally the ball pits - of which there are about four - but this is definitely his favourite. (Mine too).

Im playing catch up, so bear with me.

Its been a somewhat hectic couple of weeks, Mr Whirl's visit set me off on my mammoth tidy, unfortunately things didn't quite go as a I wanted. I had plans to tidy and clear out for Christmas but the urge was overcome by the get up and go, which got up and went. Ive found myself often just sitting on the sofa pondering life and not getting much done.

I feel really wishy washy, unable to deal with friends and family on a more than infrequent basis. Ive had some lovely mailes from friends but have been unable to communicate anything of importance.

Dylan however fills my days with smiles and I frequently thank the powers that be for giving him to me. He has been totally fantastic this last month, when is he not, his language skills have come on in leaps and bounds, he's not clear with a lot of his words, but his meaning comes across loud and clear.

Shaun and Jo came to stay the weekend, their pre Christmas Dinner.

Dylan loves Shaun and Jo and though it took him a little while to settle with them after a few minutes he had Jo off upstairs showing her his bedroom.

We had a lovely night in with mum and dad at mine, chomping down on an lovely Indian provided by the local take-away.

The next day we relaxed at mums, yummy Sunday dinner and an afternoon snooze.

Im complicated.

But you already knew that didnt you? Went to see the neurologist today and the bottom line is that my migraines are "Complicated migraines" which mean that I suffer worse than the normal migraine plebbians out there - someone please find my cross whilst I chew off these nails.

Seriously though, he his hoping that the breast reduction will reduce the pressure put on the top of my neck and thereby reduce the severity of the migaines Im currently experiencing.

So - thats me back in the car - thank god! And just waiting for the results from the MRI/MIR (bugger me, whats that big scanner thing called?). Anyway for those results to say - "nope nufink serious - she's just complicated".