Motherhood: the Grandma edition

Orla & Mamie share a joke about smocking. Orla at 10 weeks old. 

Orla has been saying for a couple of weeks that she'd like a baby. Not me having a baby, but one of her own. She has plans to have two: one girl (named Lucy of course, the same as her pillow, fluffy dog, ceramic dog, and countless dolls and toys), and one boy (named Ben). I told her that she might have two girls or two boys or the boy might come first before the 'Lucy-Baby'. 

Orla: "What do you mean 'just boys'?"

Me: "Well, look at Granny Margaret; she had Daddy, Uncle Craig, and Uncle James. No girls."

Orla: "Does she know that's a pity?"

Me: "I'm sure she thinks that most days (laughing inwardly)"

Orla: "Did you want a baby when you were my age?"

Me: "No. I'm pretty sure I wanted a dog."

Orla: (Incredulous) "Why didn't you want a baby?"
Me: "I just didn't. I think I preferred dogs."

Orla: "Didn't you know then that it would be nicer living with me than living with Mamie?"

Me: "....I guess not."

And now I'm left wondering if she would prefer living with a baby than living with me.....sniff. 4 years old and ready to move out. 

The time I confused bronchitis for a hernia

'Sister' checks the the patients 'vitals' (dummy, blanket, DVD on loop) and dispenses with the use of sterile gloves. "A nice cup of tea and you'll be right as rain in no time!"

Here's the thing. Hamish has a hernia. A teeny tiny umbilical hernia, that was diagnosed the minute we moved to Germany and had our first appointment with our Kinderarzt (paediatrician). I had always thought that there was something 'not quite right' (I won't go into details - it would embarrass him too much) and had asked our GP in Derby what was going on. They always said they weren't sure and told me to come back every six months when they would tell me again that they weren't sure.

Our Kinderarzt is really good. He's friendly (not always the case with German doctors who can quite often lack "bedside manner"), he's excellent at his job, and he's happy to see you at any time. To the point whereby he gave us his mobile number so we can call him anytime. Yeah, yeah, I know that's because it's all private insurance here so technically we're paying for that, but I just can't get my head round a doctor giving us his number so we could call at 3 am on a Sunday morning if we wanted (or should that be 'needed'?). The only way you'd get the mobile number of a GP in the UK is if you had had a particularly successful date with one (and you weren't their patient).

In the last couple of days Hamish has been complaining that his 'booby hurts'. His 'booby' is what he calls his tummy. In the main it's been when he's climbing stairs or when he's running, and he's been putting a hand to his tummy and crying 'Ow!'. I kept my eye on things for a couple of days and then made the appointment with the doctor. My view (and God knows, us Gray's do quite like to self-diagnose) was that his hernia had perhaps got worse and it was this giving him pain.

So, I tell the doctor what I think and he has a little feel and asks if there is anything else wrong with Hamish. "No", I say, "not really". I mention that he has a cough and a cold, but you know...

He asks, "Have you given him anything for it?". "Well, no". Of course I haven't given him anything. Because in the UK you're not allowed to buy or give cough medicine to a child of Hamish's age. You used to be able to, but they decided that 'suppressing a cough' should be illegal. It's better for you to suffer and cough all through the night keeping your parents up. And in all seriousness I do agree with the NHS on their decision. That's not to say I haven't gone to a Tesco (alone) before and pretended I had an 8 year old in dire need of some children's Benylin.

In Germany though you can buy children's cough medicines. But strangely, I didn't rush out and buy a crate-load as soon as I arrived in this country. Though I may take some back when I return to the UK. (In the same way I stock-piled Calpol, buying it 2 bottles at a time before I came here)

Then right on cue, Hamish started wheezing. Ach Manno! as they say. There are times when I would have given either of my children a mountain of chocolate buttons if they had just displayed half the symptoms they had 10 minutes earlier in the house, instead of making a miraculous recovery the moment I walked into the surgery, thus rendering me a fool in front of the doctor. Anyway, this time the total opposite. I swear I had never heard him wheeze before.

The doctor asks "Why didn't you bring him in with this cough?" (Might I add, with a scowl). I tried to explain that I hadn't even thought about it. "What? This boy has bronchitis!". And here we can see the difference between the NHS and private healthcare. In the UK, if you take your child to a doctor because they have a cough and a cold you are 'essentially' told you are wasting the doctors time. There is nothing they can do. There is nothing they can prescribe. These things are normal, especially at this time of the year. Or even as a friend reminded me today the famous line every mother has heard "It's just a virus, it'll get better in a few days". I've heard this so often that I just would NEVER take my children to see a doctor with a cough and a cold unless they were doing something odd like whooping or making some other unusual cough-y noises. You are made to feel like a time-wasting fool if you even try.

In Germany though I was made to feel like a neglectful, bad British mother. It was the slow shake of the head that said it all. So Hamish is now medicated and we have another appointment on Monday morning to check on his improvement. I had a look on NHS Direct's website to see what they said about bronchitis. They say things like this:

"Bronchitis is usually a mild and self-limiting condition. Self-limiting means that it usually clears up by itself, usually within a couple of weeks. This is known as acute bronchitis as it lasts for only a short period of time."

It doesn't seem so bad. Not as bad as I was led to believe. But who do I believe?

I also spoke to the doctor about Hamish's hernia. He said that as it has not closed up by age 2 then it's not going to. He needs the operation but he could have it any time - either now, or when he's 24 if he likes. But it could cause problems later. And it could get bigger. He wants me to see another specialist about it. I'm happy to do that.

I also checked on umbilical hernias on NHS Direct. They say that:

"9 out 10 umbilical hernias heal without treatment by the time that the child reaches 3 or 4 years of age. Your surgeon will usually advise you to wait until your child reaches this age before considering having an operation."

So, I've decided to go British with this one. I'll wait until he's at least a year older and have it re-checked, and then if it's still not healed we can take advantage of the marvellous German healthcare through our insurance.

I am happy to misdiagnose your symptoms in the comments section below. In fact I would get real pleasure from just being *that* nosey.

Close your eyes, big sister!

Grateful for 'depth of field' - it hides most of the bad bits!

A little close-up of areas to be re-painted

I have more or less finished another painting. More or less because I can't finish off the flowers. The original flowers died and I haven't replaced them yet. I assumed I would paint them before they died, but what with kids not sleeping in the evening and what not, I ended up painting them when they were busy composting themselves downstairs.

Nor did I even have them in this jug, so really the whole thing is a fabrication. I intend re-painting the flowers though, the jug I can live with. This was meant to be a complementary painting for the bowl and cup painting I did, but with time not on my side of late, and painting by light bulb and not natural light they've both turned out slightly different colour-wise. Ah well.

Everything that doesn't turn out as well as I like I tend to give to either my mum or my sister, so this may well be where they are headed. Close your eyes big sister, this might be your birthday present! I am trying to get enough paintings done to open a little Etsy shop. It'll be a mix of baby name pictures and well just regular paintings. I want to really do things that I want to do, as opposed to following a brief.

At the moment I am trying to come up with a name for the shop - that seems to be the hardest part. There is already a Fiona Gray who does lots of creative things, so I can't really use my own name, and anyway, I think I might like a different name for the shop. Once I have a short list I might have my Facebook friends have a vote. Better get thinking!

cold, sunshiney days!

We took advantage of the sunshine this morning to take a trip to Prenzlauerberg, an area in the north-east of the city that we haven't spent much time in. We've driven through it twice, and been out for dinner there once, and every time I have been keen to go there when the lovely little shops are open and see what it's like in the daylight.

So today of course being Sunday, the shops weren't open. But it didn't matter. Prenzlauerberg is known for being the place to live for people with young families. And it's true. I'm sure it's difficult to find a street where you don't meet someone with a pushchair. Walking down one street I counted 3 baby/child shops. I have a good feeling about Prenzlauerberg! It could be the perfect place for me to sell my 'baby name art'.

The kids loved it because there were so many play parks. It was such a beautiful sunny day as well. Just a pity it was also -3!! This week we are to expect temperatures of -10 degrees. I'm longing for the winter to be over and the temperature to be just a little less brisk! Then I think we will spend a lot more time over there getting to know the area. It has a lot of really beautiful buildings and tree-lined streets. I like the fact that it seems just a little bit busy; there are lots of people out and about.

I had originally wanted to look apartments in Prenzlauerberg - based on what I had read about it in our 'Berlin. The Complete Resident's Guide' book. I would still like to live there, but it's just a bit too far from Stevie's work, and by the looks of things it could be a nightmare for him getting parked in the evening. Ah well, I will content myself with visits!

What your toddler may be doing now:

Following on from my last post, Mwa suggested I find a book to resolve my Hamish-hating-Kita problem. I cannot remember the last time I looked in a baby/child development book. The pages of my 'toddler' ones have barely been opened. I used to really love these books, especially after having Orla and you could see what she might be up to in the forthcoming months and think what a smart baby she was when she was doing things advanced for her age and curse her for not being able to do half the things she should be able to do for her age.

Before the move I got rid of all my baby ones and on checking just now I have found 3 'toddler' ones: What to Expect: the toddler years; The Best Friends Guide to toddlers; and god knows how, but 'The Contented Toddler Years' by Gina Ford. (I must have been having a really bad day with Orla when I bought that. In fact when I flick it to see where it wants most to open (cause it looks pretty much untouched) I see what was going on...'sleep problems'. Desperate times and all that.

So, back to my Hamish problem. According to 'What to Expect' my 30 month old toddler should be able to put on an article of clothing, identify 1 picture by naming, jump up, name 6 body parts, and identify 4 pictures by pointing. I think we have pretty much got those covered except perhaps the jumping part. Hamish is dreadful at jumping. Problem-wise, the best I can see that they have is 'Separation Anxiety at Preschool'. They suggest that the transition between home and school can be tough for a toddler and it can take some children up to a year to get used to it. Eek.They suggest that if your childs separation anxiety is 'unexplained' to read another passage at the back of the book. There's talk there of "unexplained bruises and other signs of abuse". This does not make for good pre-bedtime reading for someone like myself.

On to 'the Best Friends Guide'- I've always liked these books. They're humourous and make you feel ok about being generally crap at parenting. On this occasion it has precisely.. eh, no advice to give on my Hamish situation. Ah well, can't have everything.

Lastly, let's see what Gina has to say: "a firm goodbye, a kiss and a hug, follwed by a prompt departure is easiest for a child to deal with". She also says "Some children develop a fear of certain people and places... . Role playing can be an effective and fun way of helping them conquer these fears.... . Read him books that involve happy stories of a child visiting [Kita]". At least her approach is consistent. I will try a firm goodbye tomorrow and advise Hamish to keep a stiff upper lip even if his bottom one is wobbling. Wish me luck!

Suddenly I'm not feeling quite so 'chatty'

"We'd just like a word with you..."
A word? A word? I wonder if that means I only need to get down to my underwear???

Remember this? My last visit to the doctor, where I had been told I could go for a prescription, and then once I got there was told I couldn't and had to find another doctor and blah, blah, blah... rain... late for German,...etc, etc, and eventually came away with an appointment on (not the) 19th for a "chat with the doctor"?

So it was today. Not the 19th, and so I didn't miss anymore German I made the appointment for the afternoon, balancing up the missing of more German with the having to take the kids with me. I figured that with the kids with me, the appointment would be kept quite short as they make it plain that long appointments do not fit in with their lifestyle. And anyway, the appointment was for 4:45 so it would be post-nap (for Hamish) and hopefully they would not be tired and utterly horrible.

But then Stevie offered to come home early so I could go on my own. So I did, and just as well, as I didn't get home until 7pm so the kids would have lost the plot.

So anyway, the appointment was with the Frauenarzt - that's a gynaecologist/obstetrician and you have to go to one of them if you want contraception or a smear test, or well, a baby. So, I had been wondering what we might possibly have to talk about. Given that I thought I was going to have to take the kids with me I reckoned we could bypass the "Do you want any more kids?" question pretty swiftly, and probably without me having to speak too much German. But what else was there to 'chat' about. I assumed it was going to be something similar to what you get in the UK when you join a new doctors practice and you have to have that appointment where it's a bit like a meet & greet and basically they take a medical history, ask you if you need to see them about anything, and then thank you for coming.

Well, it was like that if you've ever been to one of those 'meet the doctor' appointments and had your chat with absolutely no clothes on. Now that was quite a surprise! The chat started pretty much as soon as I walked into her office and she said "Hello, pleased to meet you, would you like to go behind that screen and take off your clothes?". I thought I'd prepared myself by phoning my GP's office in England earlier today and asking when I'd last had a smear test. I even looked it up in my German dictionary in case I needed to mention that I didn't need one yet in German. That's how prepared I was. But I wasn't prepared to have to say this while actually getting a smear test. Apparently the Germans like to have them once a year even if you have never had any problems.

Then we continued our chat over on the examination bed where I was surprised to get both a breast examination and then an ultrasound to check my uterus, fallopian tubes, and to see if there were any tumours lurking. To add to my delight, unlike in the UK where if you have an ultrasound while pregnant, and you have the awkwardness of craning your neck round while trying to see the screen when really they don't want you to yet, here you get your own screen which hangs at the perfect angle from the ceiling for you to see the fibroids hanging off your uterus should you have any to see. Wouldn't that be nice?

I was then allowed to get my clothes back on, while she introduced the idea of getting Stevie a vasectomy for Christmas. I said it sounded like the perfect stocking filler, but I wasn't sure if Stevie would be too keen. He's never really fancied any of those Boots Gift Experiences, and this would probably have even less appeal for him than a hot air balloon ride.

Then she offered me an IUD for 400 Euros. In a toss-up between that and the lens for my camera that I've got sitting in my Amazon shopping basket, I think I'd prefer the lens to win. So that was that. A surprising evening that'll make me somewhat wary about chatting with Germans in the future.

Warning: Frankie says Reflux!

Say nothing, and she probably won't notice

I've been left behind today. The rest of my little family are out having fun and picking up germs at some play place. I have been deemed too sick to be off licking the balls in the ball-pit. After my day of boredom/frustration/whatever I ended up with food poisoning and woke up at 2am with my stomach cramping up and that hideously feeling that you can't move or you'll be sick. I moved.

We are no strangers to sickness in this household. If I could go back in time to that fateful night I met Stevie, I would change my opening line to him from 'Are you Scottish?' to 'Were you a projectile vomiter as a baby?'. And then, perhaps I would have run off with that nice basketball player...but oh, maybe not, after all I do now have my lovely Orla and Hamish.

So Stevie was a projectile vomiter as a baby and according to his mum could hit a target a couple of feet away. I was a momentous projectile vomiter and could hit you sat across the other side of the room. What we never knew before we had children is that it's not a great combination if you don't want to pass that particular skill on to your children. When we had Orla I think we had a couple of days (possibly) before it all started. And it just never seemed to stop. I would change my clothes many times in a day, change Orla all day long, be forever with a muslin on my shoulder and at least another 2 close at hand. I would fear going to other people's houses, give warnings to those who wanted to hold her, then when they handed her back a second later covered in sick mop them, her, the floor, the table, chair, etc with the never-ending supply of wipes I was required to carry. We went to a wedding where Orla wore 3 outfits in the space of a couple of hours and each of those had been protected by innumerable bibs. We went for a short break and Orla wore and soaked 30 bibs and I resorted to buying disposable ones by the end of the holiday.

I became used to the pattern of when it would happen (all the time, particularly after feeds, when changed, when dressed, when lifted up, when put down, when touched by even the lightest touch, when spoken to, when looked at). Looking back I am surprised that I picked up in her first few weeks that she had a urinary tract infection. The symptom to look for: being sick. In Orla's case she was just sick with a greater intensity.

I remember asking my mum one time on the phone how long Orla's reflux would go on for. "Oh not that long really. You're making more of a big deal of it than you need to". So I asked how long I had had reflux for "Hmmm....maybe just about 7 months". Seven months? Of non-stop puking?? Not what I wanted to hear. We had already taken Orla to the GP where she was prescribed Gaviscon for children. It only made her sick thicker and gave her something to chew on, so we stopped that pretty quickly. The health visitor suggested we wean her earlier than 6 months as perhaps solid foods would stay down. They didn't - they just made the sick more colourful.

Eventually after our carpets were ruined and our sofas wiped within an inch of being threadbare, it stopped. 10 months it lasted, and then just 5 months later I had Hamish and it started all over again. Not quite as long with Hamish, but just as wonderfully.

I wonder whether either of them will develop travel sickness to match my own. My sister recounts many tales of us in the back of the car, her holding the bag open. Once we hadn't driven more than 500 yards before I was sick, but my favourite time was being sick out of the car window as we drove all the way round a town square in Italy.

Now who's for something to eat?

Road trips for the sleep-deprived

I am in dire need of sleep (I think). I nearly crashed the car this afternoon on the way back from a farm. Kids, animals, slides, swings. It's becoming an increasingly frequent cocktail in our social life. Anyway, the car is making a funny noise and shuddering in a slightly worrying way. It's been doing this since yesterday, so it's not like I was distracted by it. But on the way back I was just thinking about it, and wondering about what bit might have gone wrong, and whether we would get the cat replaced, and whether if we did that 'engine management system' message would finally disappear, and whether the car would conk out if Stevie drove it to Berlin, and how I'd be concerned about it making it to Belper at the moment never mind Berlin and all of a sudden I was vearing off to the left towards the verge and Stevie was adjusting the steering wheel. Daydreaming or half way to falling asleep?

I'm struggling these days to know if I am tired or not. I have a secret belief that there is a possibility that I could probably sleep for about 48 hours straight if I was just left alone. I just never get a chance. Orla wakes me up in the middle of the night to let me know she has done a wee wee in the potty and Hamish has various calls to me to let me know he has lost his dummy, needs his mummy, wants juice, or just wants up. We decided to try and ignore the whole clock change thing in an attempt to fool the kids into sleeping in an hour longer in the morning. It's all going to pot though as things like nursery and playgroup and meals surrounding these things get in the way. Hamish is determined that we get up at 6 and after a night of being up and down it's a struggle. Especially as I find it really hard to get to sleep once I've been woken.

Stevie tells me to go to bed at the same time as the kids, but I never want to do that. I resent then that all my time is 'mummy time' and I don't get any time to myself to do things without being constantly interrupted. Stevie argues 'well, go to bed and you'll get time on your own'. NO, THAT'S NOT THE SAME! and I still get constantly interrupted!! So I stay awake all day, force myself to stay awake in the evenings, and have quite a lot of awake time in the night. Still. After 3 years. How much longer will they keep waking in the night?

(please don't tell me the answer. It could send me into a spiral of despair).

a box of baby books

I finally gathered together my baby books in order to sell them on one way or another. I had a look on ebay to see how much they might go for, and it looks as though you might not even get a pound for them; people just don't seem able to sell them. Anyway my sister had suggested I do a car boot sale, and to be honest when I did one just before I had Orla I did really well with my books. I sold them at 50p each, but quickly realised by the fact that my stall cleared in about 10 minutes that I was under-selling. Still, as Orla was sitting on my bladder at the time I was just happy to get out of there as quickly as possible.

This time round I think I might price more accurately. Who knows how much I have spent on baby and pregnancy and toddler books, but lets put it this way, I have 18 of them. A bit excessive, but how I enjoyed them! I am keeping back a couple of the toddler ones for the moment, but the rest have to go. I am slowly but surely clearing my over-flowing shelves and I like how they are starting to look.

I have also made enquiries into selling at the next NCT sale in Mickleover. I have tons and tons of toys and clothes and equipment to get rid of so hopefully I will make a nice sum of money from that too while giving something back to the NCT.

And finally, I have started watching some Phil and Ted's prams selling on ebay to see how much they go for. I am uber-excited about selling the pram! I am hoping to get around £200 for it even with its shopping basket damage. I am not looking forward though to sitting of an evening and sewing the hole up. Next week maybe...