was shit. I won't sugar coat it. I mean in comparison to war and famine it was a breeze but in my world it was rubbish. It should have been great as there was good stuff planned but after a lovely Sunday at a pub lunch celebration in Essex, and an uneventful Monday I went to do the school run on Tuesday morning and all hell broke loose. Due to G's insistence that I MUST speak to his teacher before he went in to school and inform her emphatically that he must not be made to sing in his harvest festival, I made the mistake of temporarily placing the baby in the buggy without strapping her in. She had been crying whilst I was talking to my friend so I had got her out and cuddled her, then when G called me over I put her back in but didn't bother with the straps as it was all very hurried. Whilst I was away from the buggy, Ted decided to climb in to his seat which sits directly underneath the baby one, which is a clipped on car seat that perches (securely) on top. It sort of forms a Z shape if you are struggling to visualise - the baby is the top of the Z and Ted is the bottom. Anyhoo, as Ted attempted to clamber in, he must have fallen back which caused the whole buggy to tip backwards and hit the floor with enough power to make Cybs a human catapult. She 'flew' about a metre and landed on the tarmac of the playground, on her head. One of the dads apparently scooped her up and then all the mothers kicked in to action. One came and grabbed me to take me to the scene and I was handed a screaming and grazed baby and confronted with a dazed and bleeding Ted who had a nose bleed from the accident and I looked down to see that G was still holding on to my leg as I hadn't yet managed to tell the teacher he didn't want to sing.
So, I managed to cuddle them all, calm them down, wipe up the blood, the baby stopped crying and Ted got fed up with all the fuss and got back in the buggy. A friend called an ambulance, another started trying to convince Ted to let them take him to nursery and I answered all the questions needed by the emergency operator and then took G to his class (and I did remember to tell her about the singing), another lovely friend gave me nappies and wipes and took the offending buggy away so I could go in the ambulance. When I got in and sat down and the very calm and unflappable paramedic started asking me questions I did fall a bit to pieces. Although the baby was seemingly fine, with just an angry red graze on her beautiful head, I had convinced myself that she was bleeding profusely internally and that she was in mortal danger. She started crying again so I fed her and the unflappable paramedic said that was a good sign. So, when K rang back after responding to my incredibly teary message left with a colleague, I was mid sob when he asked how she was and I replied 'She's fed' which was meant to reassure him like it had me. Unfortunately he didn't hear the 'f' and thought I'd said something that rhymed with fed and would explain why I was so upset. Luckily I reassured him within seconds but I will always feel guilty that I made the poor man think, even for a few seconds, that his latest offspring was dead. To cut the rest of this story short as I'm bored of it now, we got to hospital, I stopped crying after about an hour, and half an hour later we were discharged as they could see no obvious sign of any damage, she was awake, alert and cooing and smiling at the doctor assessing her. I wasn't happy with their diagnosis and probably for the only time in history I was desperate for them to keep up is in. I was adamant that she needed an Xray at the very least but I'd also like a CT scan to be very sure, however they wouldn't do anything but take her BP and shine a light in her eyes. We were told to go home and watch her for 48 hrs. I couldn't believe that Ted could fall over in our hallway and break a bone but she could fly at 8 weeks old and land on her head and be totally unscathed. I just couldn't accept it and kept thinking she would start fitting or vomiting blood or something that would fit with her injury. Luckily she didn't, she remained perfectly well and still does. It is the Oddest thing, but also incredibly lucky and I am very, very thankful for that and I ALWAYS make sure she is strapped in now.
Oh and I did go to that sodding harvest festival in the afternoon. I left Ted with a friend and took my poor flying baby with me to sit in the school hall and listen to G not sing. True to his word, he got in, sat down and then promptly got up and sat next to the teacher throughout all the very jolly singing about conkers, with his mouth tightly closed. I sat on a bench at the side waving and trying to jolly him up whilst simultaneously terrified that the man standing on the bench next to me might fall on my baby and damage her further. He did not. G did not relent and open his mouth even once and it all ended very quickly. The whole day left me feeling very shaky and as if imminent danger was always around the corner. I am still a little 'have I locked the door?' about Cybs being strapped in and check her at least ten times a journey. For the next few days I did the morning school run with her in a sling and the afternoon pick up in the car. I have only just put the bottom seat back on the buggy and I am very nervous when a child goes near her head or I have to leave the buggy for any length of time.
On Wednesday I began to feel ill, but had to go and get my BP checked (more normal now thankfully) and pick up my prescription and then go and buy all of Bea's bday presents. Another lovely friend (and Cybil's Godmother) had us over for lunch which brightened up the day but by the evening I was feeling very, very cold and quite unwell. K came home early and I went to bed. Thursday was horrid, I had to do the school run as K had to go to work and then look after the little two at home all day feeling horrid. K popped home to give me painkillers and Ted was unexpectedly good so I did get a modicum of rest and Thursday night the baby (probably conked out from the drugs I was taking) slept from 8.30 til 1.30 - which is a record - so all in all I shouldn't probably grumble but it wasn't particularly nice. I felt really cold then very hot, everything ached - especially my underarms which was made much worse by holding a heavy baby to breastfeed - and I felt very shattered. I felt slightly better on Friday but only marginally. Enough to try and cut Ted's fringe so it stopped getting in his eyes, making a huge hash of it and having to get an emergency appointment at the hairdressers at the end of the road. Miserably the hairdresser was over excitable after running half an hour late and cut it far too short - all his curls were gone in one hideous curl massacre. I went home and cried to K over the phone. I'm still not used to it. He looks like a different child. The angelic curls which helped to offset some of his naughtiness have gone and I am left with a small boy. When he is naughty it is just plain irritating and not at all cute. On Saturday K had to go to work which is very rare but still very irritating when you're not feeling well. I managed to get Bea to her dance lessons and show rehearsals and bake a cake for her birthday with G and keep Ted alive until K came home to take over but I fell asleep during X factor I was so tired. Sunday finally saw things pick up again as my mum was staying with newly married sister so I drove the children up to her new flat and we all went to London Zoo together for Bea's birthday treat. The sun shone, the children were thrilled with their surprise and I revelled in having my very own 'SWAT' team of helpers to race after 'the flight risk' Ted or hang around looking at snakes with G for far longer than anyone else wanted or go and get spare maps with Bea after Ted ripped hers. If only every day had a SWAT team in it. Things would be so much easier and I might also have a chance at resting enough to get better. I am STILL ill and it is really beginning to bug me. For two episodes in a row now I haven't managed to stay awake for the end of Grand Designs which is the rather crucial part.
So, I have been ill, the baby nearly met a sticky end at Ted's hands and Bea has turned 8 - oh and actually we have discovered that as well as being long sighted and probably dyslexic, Bea has a hearing issue. I took her to have a hearing test at the hospital today and she failed it miserably. Stupidly, i didn't think about the actual test which was in a sound proof room because the test required total silence - I had in my possession a baby and a Ted. Luckily I managed to stick a boob in one mouth and a bag of teddy bear sweets in the other and Bea managed to get her test done. The upshot of the test is that they have cleaned her ears out and are going to monitor the fluid behind the drum so nothing drastic - just more guilt on my part that I should have had her assessed far earlier. That is it really. Actually I can't tell you anything else as I'm falling asleep.
I am getting so dull. I shall be back with something more interesting next time. If I can stay awake long enough to tell you about them.