Growing old disgracefully

While I often wish I still had my twenty-something figure I never, ever wish for a chance to go back there.  In my thirties I'm comfortable for the first time in my life.  And, surprisingly I'm not actually dreading my forties.


What I am looking forward to though, is reaching the age when I can behave disgracefully.  Really speaking, I could behave disgracefully now but I want to be an age where I can behave badly and get away with it.  To hell with that, I don't just want to get away with it, I want to be applauded for it! 

Like the poem "Warning" by Jenny Jones.  This is what I want to do.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

My grandad was a fantastic example.  He was a small greek man who spoke very little English, apart from the compulsory swear words.  He shuffled around with a twinkle in his eye, always keeping busy but always looking like a little kid getting into mischief.  His favourite pastimes were finding treasures in other people's skips and bringing them home in a shopping trolley or in a black sack over his shoulder. That and trying to persuade my nan that they ought to "get romantic". In their eighties.  Needless to say, she wasn't having any of it.  He was persistent though. 

Mike and I are already planning our rapid tumble into disgrace.  

Want to see our list so far?

Ok, you asked for it!

1. We're going to buy a caravan and drive down narrow country lanes. S-L-O-W-L-Y. We're going to watch all the irate drivers behind us as the traffic builds up.  And we're going to pretend we're deaf so we can't hear them yelling at us.  And when they do their rude hand signals, as they're bound to do after twenty minutes of driving at ten miles an hour, we're going to wave back to them cheerily!
2. We're going to pay for our shopping in pennies.  Lots of shopping.  In pennies. And then when the people behind us start breathing a sigh of relief when we're counting out the last few we'll suddenly remember we forgot to buy our haemorrhoid cream and have to shuffle off to find it.  
3. We're going to wear mismatched clothes in the worst colour combination imaginable.  His'n'hers style. Then hunt out the trendy grandchildren who are out with their friends and shout and wave at them from across the road.  I might even yell out that I can spell "haemorrhoid" without a dictionary.
4. We're going to kiss in front of the grandchildren and children.  Great, big, sloppy, gummy kisses.  Where our cheeks will suck into our faces as we pucker up.  They're going to hate us.
5. We're going to buy mobility scooters and race.  And I'm going to win. And if the plans so far aren't enough to put our future generations in therapy we've got the ultimate plans for their weddings.  We're going to sing a medley of songs together.  Very badly and tunelessly.  In our mismatched, colour clashing, his'n'her clothes. There we'll be, up on stage for all their friends and families to see.  (Obviously we'll let them exchange their vows first. We don't want to scare off the unsuspecting future spouses before we get the kids married off, of course).  Our song list so far, you ask?  Oh, ok. Since you ask so nicely.  So far we have...

• The Carpenters: Close to You
• Sonny and Cher: I Got You Babe
• John Travolta and Olivia Newton John: You're The One That I Want
• Whitney Houston: I Will Always Love You
• Celine Dion: My Heart Will Go On
• Bryan Adams: Everything I Do, I Do It For You

We have a problem though.  We just can't decide whether to have a big finale with Meatloaf and Cher's "Dead Ringer for Love" or do we do this?

Let me know if you've anything for me to add to my list, or if you're going to join us in our quest for disgracefulness!  Take it away, Barry.... everybody now... "I can't smile without you....!"

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Twin Pregnancy Diary - 10 weeks 6 days

I went along to my booking in appointment with the midwife on Tuesday with seven children in tow.  I don’t know that she was very impressed. You tend to find that people assume you have a network of help and childcare available for such things. They know you have a few kids already but seem surprised when you turn up to an appointment with them.  Why she was surprised when I had already forwarned her when we arranged the appointment that they’d be accompanying me I don’t know.

Still, it was a pretty non-event.  It was mainly going through the paperwork.  Although she’d posted out a bunch of leaflets, booklets and pieces of paper I was confused about what I had to complete and what she had to fill in.  In the end I filled in what I could be bothered to  until I got bored felt I couldn’t do any more.

The midwife proceeded to complete all the gaps I had left and started ticking through a checklist of things to cover.

“You do know you can still carry on with fun and games?” she told me.

“Fun and games?”

My eyebrows raised.

“You think I feel like any of that?!”

“I’m just telling you, just so you know, that you can, if you want to, you know, fun and games... I just have to tell you...”

And she ticked off a box.

Really?

You have to tick off that you’ve told me that my dh and I can have “fun and games”?

Really?!

To be quite honest, between the nausea and tiredness and general grumpiness for all things not silent and still at the moment I’d be hard pressed to finish off a game of Battleships.  Put that as a sidenote.   Fun and games, I ask you.

Soon enough the forms were finished.  The kids were starting to fidget and I could tell they were like corn kernals about to start popping.  It was hot and stuffy in the room and we all wanted to get out.  Yet still I dutifully pulled my wee bottle out of my bag and put it on the table for the midwife to test.

“Oh I won’t bother with that today.”

I was a little stunned.  For one thing, I wanted to ask, shouldn’t you be checking for protein and all that jazz? And secondly, do you know how hard it is to pee in those things? Not only should you be thrilled that I brought it in, and not only should you be checking it with the little PH strip thingys and praising me on how wonderfully healthy I am, but you should also be giving me credit for getting the wretched liquid in that tiny bottle in the first place!

But I just put it back in my bag and silently congratulated myself for simply remembering to take the unwanted specimen along with me.

And for keeping the hormones in check.

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Something to make you smile

Here's a sneak preview of the upcoming Royal Wedding.  Enjoy!

Actually, it's a T-Mobile advert which is a spoof of the JK Wedding Entrance. I loved that too!

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Morning sickness and pregnancy tiredness. I've found the answer.

I managed to get a few more things done this week but not nearly as much as I needed or wanted to. I have so many plans of things I want to do and so many everyday things that I don't necessarily want to do but still need to be done. My lack of motivation, morning sickness and first trimester tiredness is fuelling my natural tendency to veer toward doing as little as possible at the moment. I'll let you know what my excuse is for my continuing laziness once the pregnancy is over at a later time.

I therefore have decided to delegate jobs. You'll find that children are more willing to do work the younger they are. As they grow older, their diligence dwindles.

At a year old they are able to take on the responsibility of sweeping the garden.

Oliver doesn't recall seeing Alan Titchmarsh doing his own sweeping.

Sort of.

There was still the matter of dinner to deal with.  When you have a willing three year old ready to take over then all becomes well with the world.

If Jamie Oliver ever needs some advice, he can write to Paddy at the PO Box address on the right or email. 

Or at least all would be well with the world if we could finally convince the almost-seven-month-old to clean the kitchen up afterwards.

Joseph prefers watching everyone else working and laughing at them while he sits comfily in his chair.

And if, Jamie Oliver you are watching this and wanting to learn how to prepare foil-baked salmon, then this is for you!

all 

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Twin Pregnancy Diary - 10 weeks 3 days

I can't believe we are nearing the end of the first trimester already. Between the speed at which these first few months have gone, together with the shorter third trimester (taking into consideration that full term for twins is around 37 weeks), I have a feeling that this pregnancy is going to fly by.

Thankfully we have had no further incidences of spotting since I turned 9 weeks exactly. I have had constant reminders of the work my body is undertaking in the form of regular meetings between my head and the toilet bowl. Dare I say it, the meetings seem to be becoming less frequent. Now I've said it out loud it will all come back with a vengeance.

The tiredness, oh the tiredness. It knocks me out completely. I'm still up early in the day - normally between 4.30 and 5am but rarely see past 9pm at night. It doesn't help that Joseph is still waking during the night. I have to admit that I'm not too sure whether the uncontrollable tiredness is down to pregnancy or simply because I'm lazy and enjoy sleeping. It's not unknown for me to "snooze" during the day on the sofa, opening an eye every now and then to beg for a little more quiet and a lot less shouting. That'll be the day.

My friend, Mike's cousin, Karen asked me the other day whether I was showing.

"Oh yes," I told her, "but only because I can let it all hang out now. I don't need to hold my tummy in."

I think she thought I was being funny. I wasn't. It's true. For me to be convinced that the bump at the front of my body is made up of babies two things must happen:

1. The bump needs to firm up... a lot
2. The babies need to be bigger than an inch and a half each.

Of course, there is always the two placentas I'm carrying.  And the extra amniotic fluid.  Yes, that'll be the reason why my belly is so big so soon.  Now I feel better.

I have my first midwife appointment booked for later today.  She posted out all the forms for booking in for me to fill out.  The obstetric history takes a while to be completed.  Plus it only has spaces for seven previous pregnancies.  I had to squashthelasttwopregnanciesintothetinybitofspaceleftattheendofthepage.  It didn't occur to me until afterwards to photocopy one of the pages and stick it into the book.  I blame the children for that oversight. Those in utero and out.

Spring on the allotment

 We made the most of a beautiful weekend and spent much of it doing outdoor jobs. Mike cleaned up the back garden, taking apart the old shed that once leant on the fence in the corner. It is still waiting to be replaced and so all the tools, animal bedding and general junk is currently stored in the wendy house. I butchered cut back the shrubs, a job long overdue and Mike finally cut the grass in the front garden.

The best part of the weekend for me was heading out back to the allotment on Saturday afternoon.

I was late planting the garlic as we were still getting the allotment cleared and the beds ready. They should normally be planted during the coldest part of winter, around November through to January, although I've also read that it can be planted from September. Either way, ours wasn't planted until the end of March. I figured that I had a whole bunch of bulbs that we could either try out or throw away. I decided we'd lose nothing by planting them and seeing what happened. If they don't work we won't be any worse off than we would have been if we'd tossed them. If they do, well, if they do then we'd have garlic!

Within a couple of weeks of planting the cloves they've already started coming through.

Last month I planted a whole load of strawberry plants (Honeoye, Florence and Alice) only for another 36 plants to arrive at the end of the week.  Thomson and Morgan had an offer on and I love offers as much as I love strawberries.  The new batch were unpacked and placed in a tub with enough water to cover their roots, waiting until the next allotment visit.  Due to bleeding and not being able to do very much they had to wait more than two weeks.  They were resiliant little things though, and not only survived the ordeal but flourished too.  As their reward for being so patient, Saturday was their day for planting.  The first lot of strawberries had already progressed well and hopefully their new friends will follow suit.

We've already got a fair few flowers on the first batch.

I'm looking forward to a glut.  I'm hoping and wishing and praying for a glut.  Strawberry jams and cheesecakes and shortbread and... strawberry everything.

I'm also hoping the raspberry canes and blackberry bushes we planted recover from their sorry looking state. They could take a leaf from gooseberry's book.

Out of the three sets of plants only the gooseberries are looking healthy.  I do worry.

I haven't worried about the first early potatoes though.

We planted "Swift", one of the fastest growing early varieties which is also heavy cropping.  When you have a larger than average family to feed heavy cropping fruit and vegetables are always an advantage.  Hopefully, I'll get some second earlies chitting within the next couple of weeks.  There is still some room at the end of that raised bed to get them started in, plus we'll be growing some in bags and a dustbin in the back garden too.  All home grown food tastes better than shop bought but there is something really exceptional about freshly dug, home grown spuds.  And the smell is so... fresh and potatoey!

As well as planting the rest of the strawberry plants also I managed to get a variety of salad seeds sown, as well as Early Nantes carrots and another sowing of mangetout and peas to succeed the previous sowing.  Although it doesn't sound like I actually did very much I was quite tired by the end of it.  There is still plenty more to do but I think I'll just have to be content with little and often at the moment.  In the meantime, I think I'll check out the online garden centres for my next order.  Sweetcorn seeds are calling me.

Twin Pregnancy Diary - The First Nine Weeks (Part 2)

On my way out of the hospital I text Mike. I can't remember exactly what I said but it was something along the lines of "Everything is ok but I need to talk to you about something."

He text back, "It's twins isn't it?"

How did he do that?

On the way home I cried. I mean, I know all about singleton pregnancies inside out but now, this was all new territory. It was different. And I was bleeding. I could lose two babies. Losing one is bad enough but to lose two...

Irrational, I told myself. I had only just left the scan where the babies are perfect, their heartbeats are strong and regular and there is no bleeding. All signs were good. So why wasn't I reassured?

I got home and went straight upstairs with Mike following. I handed him the sonographer's findings.

He began reading through and then he reached the part where it was written:

"Pregnancy 1..." and then, further on, "Pregnancy 2...."

"It's what I said, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's twins!" I nodded.

Well, talk about a calm reaction. You'd think I'd just told him what I was going to cook for dinner. I, in the meantime, was still shocked.

I spent the rest of the day checking Facebook. A friend of mine had given birth to twins only two weeks earlier. She'd posted pictures of her growing bump throughout her pregnancy. At the time I looked and thought "Aaaah" and clicked "Like" and moved on, not thinking much more about it. That evening I was obsessed.

"I'm going to be HUGE!" I hissed at Mike when the kids were in bed. "Look at Fiona! LOOK!"

And for the rest of that weekend Fiona had her very own stalker.

There was no more spotting that weekend. I was again starting to relax a little. Maybe everything would be ok. Until it began again on the Tuesday. Straight away I thought of the worst.

I'd spent the weekend Googling. Google is a great thing but it's also a bad thing. Ever heard of vanishing twins? No, I hadn't until I googled. I was now convincing myself that the spotting was one of the twins vanishing. I had visions of us all going for the 12 week scan, children and all, and only finding one baby instead of the two we were expecting. You'd think I would know myself well enough by now to realise that I can quite sufficiently find enough to worry about without the added help of Google. Obviously not.

Knowing that it would likely take at least a week for another referral to EPAC I decided to contact a private clinic for a viability scan. By the time they called me back a couple of days later the spotting had once again stopped. I was feeling a little more positive and didn't book a scan. I spotted again on Saturday morning. I immediately rang the clinic and booked the scan for that afternoon. I would be nine weeks exactly.

The day dragged and once again I got the nervous knot in my stomach in the hours leading up. Once again bracing myself for the worst, I followed the consultant into the room while Mike and the children stayed behind in the waiting room.

Another thorough check and no cause could be found for the bleeding. The babies were both fine. More than fine, they were strong and healthy and measured spot on to their dates.

Twin 1 at 9 weeks exactly

Twin 1 had grown from 13.8mm from the first scan to 21.2mm eight days later, with a heartbeat of 176bpm.

Twin 2 at 9 weeks exactly

Twin 2 had grown from 14.9mm to 20.9mm during that time and had a heartbeat of 174bpm.

It couldn't have gone any better or be any more perfect. 

So blessed. 

Twins together at 9 weeks exactly

And thankfully, I haven't spotted since.

Oh and remember how I said that I found out I was pregnant two days after my father-in-law's funeral?  Well, he was a twin too.  

You can read Part 1 of The First Nine Weeks here.

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Twin Pregnancy Diary - The First Nine Weeks (Part 1)

I found out I was pregnant only two days after my father-in-law’s funeral. I don’t know why I tested. I wasn’t even late. But I did. And it was positive.

From the moment I find out I am pregnant I begin to worry. I never worry about having another child. That in itself is a blessing. But I worry dreadfully about losing another child. That is a hard thing to go through no matter how many times you experience it. When you’ve had the misfortune of experiencing it eight times it doesn’t give you much reassurance.

The first few weeks went ok. I did the usual rushing to the bathroom thing with every twinge “just to check”. I was tired which was reassuring and toward the sixth week I began to feel nauseous. All good signs.

We packed up for our holiday in Disneyland Paris. We set out early on the Monday morning. I’d just hit six weeks of pregnancy. That’s the time the baby’s heart begins to beat. Most of my losses were between the 5 and 6 week marks. I was beginning to feel a little more positive. Nausea, tiredness and hitting the six week mark. All great milestones. Until the following morning when I woke up bleeding.

I couldn’t believe it. Not only was I probably going to experience my ninth miscarriage, I was going to do so while on holiday. Rest was out of the question. You don’t go to a place like Disneyland on a trip you never thought you’d be able to take such a large family on, only to spend the week lying in the cabin. The children didn’t even know I was pregnant and they were looking forward to so much. I had to carry on. So we did what we went to do and waited to see what would happen. There wasn’t anything else we could do.

I must have visited every public toilet in Disneyland. (They were very clean and well looked after, just for the record). I was puzzled to find the bleeding petering out before it had even properly begun. No doubt, I thought to myself, by the end of a day’s walking about it will have got going.

It didn’t.

The next morning it started again, just slightly. And again it stopped throughout the day, making a spot known here and there but nothing major. Again for the third day where I woke up with the greatest loss so far. That was the day my heart sunk. I thought it was all over. There was no way everything would be ok now. By the afternoon it had stopped completely and I had nothing at all for the whole of Friday. Saturday was going well too, until the evening when more spotting began.

We got home on Saturday evening but I couldn’t telephone the surgery until Monday. First thing on Monday morning I was on the ‘phone requesting a referral to the EPAC (Early Pregnancy Assessment Clinic) for a scan to see what was going on. I explained my history and the receptionist told me I would probably have to make an appointment to see the GP first. I didn’t need an appointment, I told her. I just needed a referral. The GP could do nothing for me and it would be a waste of my time and hers. They called me back four times requesting me to attend an appointment. Four times I refused. Eventually, almost two hours later, I was given an appointment at the EPAC. They couldn’t see me until the Friday. The spotting continued intermittently for the rest of the week.

Eventually Friday came around and I was suddenly very nervous. Mike took the day off work to sit with the children and I went to the hospital. As I sat in the waiting room I said several prayers, as I’d done so many times before in the same place. The prayers are always the same.

“Please let our baby be ok and if it’s not, give us the strength to deal with it.”

The sonographer called me in after what seemed like an age. We’d met before. Sometimes she had given me good news and sometimes she didn’t. She remembered me. We went over the routine questions and then she told me that I knew what to do so let’s just get started.
I lay on the bed and braced myself. Transvaginal scans aren’t fun at the best of times. I clenched my fists and looked at the ceiling, still praying my prayer. I looked at her looking at the screen.

“It’s twins!” she exclaimed.

I clamped my hand over my mouth in shock and she looked at me wide eyed. This was surprising to both of us, it seemed!

It was April 1st.

“This isn’t an April Fool’s joke?” I asked her.

“I knew you’d say that as soon as I saw them!” she laughed and she turned the screen to face me.

Clear as day, there they were. Two perfect little babies, each in their own sac, with strong little heartbeats flashing on the screen.

To say I was shocked is an understatement.

She checked and could see no bleeding. I was 7 weeks and 6 days according to my dates. One baby measured the exact dates and the other just a day behind. Everything looked good.

I was still in shock.

But happy.

Our Twins at 7 weeks 6 days

So very happy.



But shocked!



You can read Part 2 by clicking here.

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The quest to free "Skinny Me" is being put on hold for a while.

Until November, actually.

Well, possibly October.

Because that'll be full term for twins.

Yep.

That's what I said.

Twins.

:-)



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