Nursing myself
Feb. 10th, 2008 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ailbheRight now I'm incubating like mad. I'm incubating something in my lungs, and something in my throat, and something in my sinuses, and I'm trying really hard to keep it all out of my ears. That's plane travel for you.
Notable things that happened while I was away: Well, we left on Thursday, and on Sunday my sister came to visit with her three children, and all the cousins played together beautifully well. The most amusing conversation happened when Linnea came in from the front room (where she and the other girls were playing) to the dining room (where the adults and her eldest cousin, the only boy, were talking and drawing) to demand a volunteer to be the daddy.
Two of the cousins had been sick; in fact, one still had the dire rear. But my children and I didn't catch it this time.
Since we came back, by the way, I've noticed that the Battle Inn, an Irish Pub with tricolours and chickenwire on the windows and a generally terrifying demeanour, is now a cheery-looking POLSKI PUB and I look forward to seeing its revamp.
We went swimming at Mum's pool twice, and it was lovely; Mum saw Linnea swimming the second time, though she's not doing as much as she used to. Emer enjoyed it. Mum enjoyed it. I got a go in the hot tub. We also went to the softplay which wasn't great, but it was useful because Linnea got to play with other children, which are in short supply where Mum lives.
In total Emer got three of her four canines. So Rob missed that. Poor left-out Rob. My heart bleeds.
My aunt came - one of the nuns. She didn't mention her recent adventure in the Zambia. Another sister told me that one, later. She did give Linnea and Emer books and cuddles; she's great with them, always has been fabulous with children, and they automatically love her.
Then my mother got sick. She was alarmed by this since she doesn't normally catch things but it's winter, she was tired, etc etc. Also she had more contact with the sick children than I or my children did because I am paranoid and rude about kissing sick people. Her sickness lasted about 24 hours which is not too bad.
I took the girls to Dublin by train a week after we arrived. First we had to get a bus to Cork city centre and Linnea was silently, miserably sick; she submitted to being cleaned up and was very brave about it all. Then we got a lovely modern train with tons of space for the double buggy, and loads and loads of loos with change tables. Sadly, I couldn't take both children to the buffet car, and the trolley had run out of hot water by the time it reached us, so there you go. We saw lots of sheep outside in the snow; Linnea was careful to explain that their wool would keep them warm. They looked bloody cold to me.
When we got to Dublin we got the Luas to Rialto and walked from there to my younger sister's flat in Harold's Cross. It was freezing cold. Linnea wasn't up to walking so she sat in the buggy, and got even colder. I put Emer in the mei tai so she could share my body heat, which helped her. When we go to the flat I found the key and let us all in; Linnea's hands were too cold to undo the velcro on her boots.
I took them out again to buy food, and fed them hot pasta and sauce from a jar, which helped, and wrapped them up warm, and tried to keep them moving. When my sister came home she put on all the heat and was very apologetic that she'd forgotten to do it that morning, but honestly, she didn't even know we were coming until 9 pm the previous night. So she gave us hot water bottles and extra blankets and I warmed Linnea's pyjamas and gave her hot chocolate and put her to bed fairly warm. Then my sister went out again to a birthday celebration and eventually Emer and I went to bed. Both children woke shivering a few times, and when we finally got up I was exhausted. That was the night Emer's third tooth came through, too.
I kept the children in the kitchen and our room from 6 to 9 am so's not to disturb our hosts and then took them into the living room to watch television. My sister woke shortly after that, of course, and she watched them while I had a shower. There are almost no storage surfaces above waist height in her flat so watching is crucial :)
A shower and food helped immensely and we got ready for my other sister's visit - she'd driven down from Donegal to see my children. That went fairly well. She told me my aunt's adventure.
My aunt, a nun approaching 70, was in the Zambia recently, and was asked to drive a young man, and a woman with a baby, from the village where they were to a larger town with a hospital, for unspecified reasons. She and another, older nun set off driving a jeep through a (the?) national park - lions and tigers and bears, I believe, though the main concerns were herds of elephants wandering around on the road.
In the late afternoon the fan belt snapped. Big uh-oh. Luckily, my aunt remembered her early reading of wartime novels and found a pair of tights, and they used those to replace the fan belt. But wartime nylons were stronger than modern ones. So they snapped. They reknotted them and went on.
It took several pairs of tights from my aunt's suitcase - three, I think, plus a thing where they knotted the unused feet sections together and used that - but they were able to get back to the village, replace the belt, and turn around and start again.
Nuns, eh?
Notable things that happened while I was away: Well, we left on Thursday, and on Sunday my sister came to visit with her three children, and all the cousins played together beautifully well. The most amusing conversation happened when Linnea came in from the front room (where she and the other girls were playing) to the dining room (where the adults and her eldest cousin, the only boy, were talking and drawing) to demand a volunteer to be the daddy.
L: We're playing fammlies. You must come!
O: But I don't want to.
L: But you must be the daddy.
O: No.
D (my sister): You can be the daddy.
L: No, I'm the mummy.
D: S can be the daddy.
L: No, she's the big sister. And Or is the little sister. And Emer is the baby.
N (my mother): Daddy's gone out.
L: Where?
D: To the pub.
L: [blank look]
[all pause]
N: To a cafe. Or to work.
L: [runs off satisfied]
Two of the cousins had been sick; in fact, one still had the dire rear. But my children and I didn't catch it this time.
Since we came back, by the way, I've noticed that the Battle Inn, an Irish Pub with tricolours and chickenwire on the windows and a generally terrifying demeanour, is now a cheery-looking POLSKI PUB and I look forward to seeing its revamp.
We went swimming at Mum's pool twice, and it was lovely; Mum saw Linnea swimming the second time, though she's not doing as much as she used to. Emer enjoyed it. Mum enjoyed it. I got a go in the hot tub. We also went to the softplay which wasn't great, but it was useful because Linnea got to play with other children, which are in short supply where Mum lives.
In total Emer got three of her four canines. So Rob missed that. Poor left-out Rob. My heart bleeds.
My aunt came - one of the nuns. She didn't mention her recent adventure in the Zambia. Another sister told me that one, later. She did give Linnea and Emer books and cuddles; she's great with them, always has been fabulous with children, and they automatically love her.
Then my mother got sick. She was alarmed by this since she doesn't normally catch things but it's winter, she was tired, etc etc. Also she had more contact with the sick children than I or my children did because I am paranoid and rude about kissing sick people. Her sickness lasted about 24 hours which is not too bad.
I took the girls to Dublin by train a week after we arrived. First we had to get a bus to Cork city centre and Linnea was silently, miserably sick; she submitted to being cleaned up and was very brave about it all. Then we got a lovely modern train with tons of space for the double buggy, and loads and loads of loos with change tables. Sadly, I couldn't take both children to the buffet car, and the trolley had run out of hot water by the time it reached us, so there you go. We saw lots of sheep outside in the snow; Linnea was careful to explain that their wool would keep them warm. They looked bloody cold to me.
When we got to Dublin we got the Luas to Rialto and walked from there to my younger sister's flat in Harold's Cross. It was freezing cold. Linnea wasn't up to walking so she sat in the buggy, and got even colder. I put Emer in the mei tai so she could share my body heat, which helped her. When we go to the flat I found the key and let us all in; Linnea's hands were too cold to undo the velcro on her boots.
I took them out again to buy food, and fed them hot pasta and sauce from a jar, which helped, and wrapped them up warm, and tried to keep them moving. When my sister came home she put on all the heat and was very apologetic that she'd forgotten to do it that morning, but honestly, she didn't even know we were coming until 9 pm the previous night. So she gave us hot water bottles and extra blankets and I warmed Linnea's pyjamas and gave her hot chocolate and put her to bed fairly warm. Then my sister went out again to a birthday celebration and eventually Emer and I went to bed. Both children woke shivering a few times, and when we finally got up I was exhausted. That was the night Emer's third tooth came through, too.
I kept the children in the kitchen and our room from 6 to 9 am so's not to disturb our hosts and then took them into the living room to watch television. My sister woke shortly after that, of course, and she watched them while I had a shower. There are almost no storage surfaces above waist height in her flat so watching is crucial :)
A shower and food helped immensely and we got ready for my other sister's visit - she'd driven down from Donegal to see my children. That went fairly well. She told me my aunt's adventure.
My aunt, a nun approaching 70, was in the Zambia recently, and was asked to drive a young man, and a woman with a baby, from the village where they were to a larger town with a hospital, for unspecified reasons. She and another, older nun set off driving a jeep through a (the?) national park - lions and tigers and bears, I believe, though the main concerns were herds of elephants wandering around on the road.
In the late afternoon the fan belt snapped. Big uh-oh. Luckily, my aunt remembered her early reading of wartime novels and found a pair of tights, and they used those to replace the fan belt. But wartime nylons were stronger than modern ones. So they snapped. They reknotted them and went on.
It took several pairs of tights from my aunt's suitcase - three, I think, plus a thing where they knotted the unused feet sections together and used that - but they were able to get back to the village, replace the belt, and turn around and start again.
Nuns, eh?
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-10 11:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-11 01:22 pm (UTC)