ailbhe: (Default)
I'm taking Emer in a week, because today I got a good look at her molars and they look worse than they did a month ago. We're going to the Other Dentist, as private patients, and I have an agreement from the dentist that she will examine every tooth even if Emer is crying and I have to hold her down. The last two appointments Emer had, they looked at her front teeth and Linnea's full set, and said they must be good because Linnea's are gorgeous and all of Emer's teeth visible without serious effort are gorgeous. I described the patches as best I could and was told that it sounded like antenatal damage from a fever.

But I got a good look today and they're not funny. I had Rob look at the worst two, too, this evening, and he agrees that it looks quite bad.

I feel terrible. But given that her teeth might be in trouble, it's far far better to go and force her through it now than risk bad baby teeth damaging the buds of her adult teeth, and of course it's better to take her to the dentist than to refrain from shame.
ailbhe: (Default)
The house was a pit and a disaster, so we left it behind. We stopped at Elle's Baguettes for sandwiches ) and then posted some party invitations at the post office, and then I cycled us in to town and out again to ERAPA.

We went down by the river ) and then we arrived early for the home ed group. We had our lunch and the first people to arrive were people I already knew and so it was lovely and pleasant.

Everyone had a lovely time until Linnea came up to me sulking. I was non-pushily nice to her for a few minutes and extracted the fact that she doesn't want to play that game because it's "horrid," a word which, as Susan might say, "real children never say." Further queries elicited the information that the game was robbers and cops. And she wasn't allowed to be a cop, apparently.

Emer found a doll as large as herself to play with, which was disconcerting to catch out of the corner of my eye.

So Linnea didn't mind much when we had to leave early, and we arrived in John Lewis in time to get both children fitted for new sandals. It was a bit of a production. ) and Rob phoned as my transaction was ending and I told him where we were.

So I brought everyone back to the Parents' Room and while Linnea was sitting on the loo Rob came and found us. And we talked briefly about dinner and I made a couple of phonecalls to sort out money and we went out somewhere Linnea remembered going for Freya's fourth birthday, a little over a year ago.

They had a good, cheap children's menu so that was lovely. I had a brief interaction with neighbouring diners, because I am an interfering kind of person. )

After we had finished our meals - during which Emer demonstrated that spaghetti-twirling is easy really, but eating very hot food is hard - we had to cycle home without lights. Well, I had a rear light. I didn't enjoy that. Rob and I both had hi-vis vests on but he'd forgotten his lights and my front dynamo-light wasn't working. We must look at that soon.

Emer fell asleep on the way home and is in bed asleep even now. Linnea did some of her restaurant-kiddie-pack puzzles while Rob made up her bed and now she's gone to bed too.

My turn next.
ailbhe: (Default)
Emer and I woke about six and drifted back to sleep again, and then woke again about eight when Rob left. We played in bed for an hour, tickling and bouncing and counting toes and talking about breakfast ("A big bowl of elephants? Airplanes on toast?" "No, a raaaahhhhh!" "Giraffe?""No, a yion, raaahhhh!" "OH - LIONS for breakfast! yum!") and then I had m antibiotics and my painkillers and my coffee and we went to wake Linnea; Emer and I sat on Emer's bed and hid under a red blanket until Linnea was overcome by curiosity at the giggling.

I stripped Linnea's bed and stuck the bits in the washing machine, and gave them breakfast - muesli for Linnea and noodles for Emer, no idea why but there you go, she did try to eat them crunchy but opted for soaking them after all. The dishwasher is loaded and going. The children are washed around the edges.

It has been a peaceful, friendly morning. And now I'm going to spoil it all by saying something stupid like "Let's go out."

But we do need to buy them sandals - we have sandals a size too small and a size too large for both of them - so that might help. Both children like the wrong-size ones enough to insist that they fit :(
ailbhe: (Default)
I'm going to post the following review of several books and flashcard sets on Amazon:

"I bought these for my embryo and read them every morning and night but when she was born she was unable to speak, let alone read, and we had to use [randomly selected set in the same category] to teach her to read. Now she is two and loves to read what she calls her "baby books" but most of her reading is other MORE MATURE AND CHALLENGING texts YOU THICKOS."

It'll fit right in.

(We're leaning towards Peter and Jane, because they are small and cheap).
ailbhe: (Default)
Should I buy Linnea this coat? I think I like it. I expect size 6-7 would be big enough.


Mar. 18th, 2009 08:53 pm
ailbhe: (emer 2y2m and linnea 4y5m)
I stood on the doorstep and the children were halfway down the street, just within earshot. Emer was looking at Linnea's scooter, which has flowers and a logo.

"Dat my name," she said.

"No," said Linnea, "those letters aren't in your name. Look, Ill show you one that's in your name."

I asked her what she shower her, later, and she held out one finger on her left hand, and put three fingers of her right hand against it, to make an E.

I asked Emer to pick some books up.

"I tan't," she said, "oney scissors."

She thought about it for a while, then used her fingers like tongs, and picked the books up without cutting them. But both hands were scissors, not hands - that was very clear.


Mar. 18th, 2009 06:53 pm
ailbhe: (Default)
A month ago I was chipping ice off the washing line to hang laundry up - which I did wearing a coat and gloves.

Today I was out there in my tshirt, jeans, and open-toed sandals, hanging wet washign slowly to relish the sun on my shoulders.

The children didn't want to go out but in the late afternoon I brought the bike and scooters into the front hallway and opened the door, and we played on the footpath outside for 30-45 minutes. Linnea has about grown into her huge scooter now so she, Emer and I have one each. She isn't keen on her bike though. She wants the saddle a little lower.

The sun shone, I opened the windows and played music so we could hear it in the street (though sadly not as loud as some cars) and it was lovely lovely lovely.

If I weren't slightly crazed with purely physical pain, all would be magnificent - as it is, things are pretty damn good.

And the weather is forecast to continue charming.
ailbhe: (emer 2y2m)
Pyjamas have pockets for storing K'nex
And Lego and raisins and elephant cheques
Pyjamas have pockets and that makes them clothes
As everyone everyone everyone knows.
ailbhe: (nana)
My mother's siblings - M(f), P(m), herself (f), M(f), E(f), D(f)

My mother's children, all female - D, O, G, A, N.

My mother's grandchildren - 6f, 1m.
2002 D-> O(m)
2003 D-> S(f)
2004 A-> L(f)
2005 D-> O(f)
2006 A-> E(f)
2008 O-> F(f)
2009 D-> C(f)

There's another one due in 2009, September time, so that will make up for 2007 nicely.

I must get photos of everyone and make a family tree picture for my children.
ailbhe: (Default)
As my aching tooth, my over-thirsty four-year-old, my toddler and myself were crossing the pedestrian shopping street today, a man who was stopping passers-by waved his beer can at me.

"Young mum!" he cried, "have you ever been paintballing before?"

I said "No thank you," but thought of lots of other things I could have said if I could have been bothered, later. "I'm older than you," for a start. "I don't need to, I have children." "That beercan looks very unprofessional, aging bachelor."

Honestly, everyone else says "'Scuse me" before they start their pitch - what made him think "Young mum!" was a polite way to address anyone?

Perhaps he was drunk.

Apart from that, we enjoyed today's sunshine. Emer and I spent time in the garden before the dentist appointment, and then we all walked around searching for a pharmacy, hampered by my being slightly crazed with pain so I couldn't really think of what the most efficient thing to do was. We found a Superdrug with no pharmacy counter, and then a Boots which did have one, and then made our way by degrees to Moondogs, failing to buy Linnea a new coat or jacket in a few places in the meanwhile. It probably wasn't the best day to try, to be honest.

At Moondogs we had coffee and cake - actually, the children had purple squash, which is about as stimulating - and then we walked home, gathered our wits and the birthday gift, and went to Iz's fifth birthday party. It was lovely and low-key and we had a lovely time. Linnea's will be in a hall this year but I was pleased to see that someone other than me has low-key food-and-games ideas.

I need to print off Linnea's party invitations and post them. And see if I can't do something labour-saving about a cake.

I went out to dinner with a friend on Friday evening and left my phone at home. I must do that again.
ailbhe: (Default)
"Oh dear," followed by "Is there any chance you're pregnant?"

So I had an X-ray and my unwise toothlet is visibly not fitting, now.

The root isn't properly open - apparently it's doing the wrong thing with the nerve, there inside my gum. And the tooth itself is trying to grow up out of my lower jawbone up into my upper jawbone, which it can't do. Meanwhile, it's damaging the adjacent tooth, inflaming the gum, enraging the general populace and annoying me.

Oh, and it hurts.

I have a week's antibiotic scrip, and some mouthwash, and OTC painkillers (and my sekrit stash of 30mg codeine phosphate), and in about six weeks I'll get a phonecall to set up an appointment for extraction. In a hospital.

I'll have to manage childcare; I hope it's straightforward. Though they are very well-behaved while I get my dentistry done, watching me have my wisdom tooth out is probably a mite traumatic for them.

I've been a bit dazed all day, probably from the pain. It's easing off a little now, possibly due to antibiotics or mouthwash or something.
ailbhe: (Default)
It's a lovely day for laundry - I've done the handwashing, even - and swinging on the swing and seeing on the saw and bouncing on the trampoline. And it's a lovely day for mowing the lawn, ish, and raking the winter's leaves off it, and finding all sorts of toys hidden in the long grass.

If this continues we'll have a usable garden by the end of the week - one people could come and sit in, even.

It's glorious weather.

Poor Linnea will be FORCED out into it shortly. She'd rather stay in the front room looking at books. Why she doesn't want to look at the outdoors is beyond me. But she has to come to the dentist with me - no choice there!
ailbhe: (Default)
... eating the burnt toast so that the children don't have to (though at weekends I make Rob do it).

... being told "Dud dirl" and kissed gently on the cheek while tucked up in bed. I'm not sure why; perhaps Emer was feeling very grown-up and responsible?

... being completely unable to see three-foot-tall children hiding behind their own hands in the middle of an empty room; "Sh! Huiet! MAMMY ME HIDING!!!"
ailbhe: (Default)
Back to the dentist, more antibiotics, I bet. I wonder how often "several times" is - that's how often this has to happen before they TAKE THE DAMN THING OUT.
ailbhe: (Default)
I've been taking codeine - codeine, to which I was addicted, which makes me sick - and paracetamol and ibuprofen and I still want to hit people.

There's nothing visibly wrong, but my head is throbbing as though it's swollen to the size of a London black taxi.

If I go to bed, I hope Rob is sound enough asleep not to be woken as I toss, turn, and whimper. Because if he wakes up, I am almost guaranteed to add whining to my repertoire.

Poor ole Rob. But at least he doesn't have wisdom teeth.
ailbhe: (Default)
[crossposted slightly]
I can't decide whether I want to howl in glee or despair. This is very like reading What Mothers Do Especially When It Looks Like Nothing by Naomi Whatsername, in that I keep going "YES! That thing! That there! That thing too! That! MY GOD I KNEW IT MUST BE LIKE THAT! Those statistics don't surprise me in the least - wow, that's worse than I thought - NO WONDER I WAS AFRAID OF THAT -" and on and on and on.

I am very grateful to [ profile] radegund for recommending it to me and will reread it more slowly later on. Meanwhile, I recommedn it.
ailbhe: (Default)
I bought my current phone with an Orange contract when Linnea was a wee baby. Since then I reduced my use to a point where having a contract made no sense, and changed to Vodafone pay as you go, because that's the network with the best reception inside our house. I use less than £10 a month - perhaps £10 every 6 weeks? - so there really isn't much point in a contract.

However, my phone is slowly dying the death of the dud and irreplaceable battery. I'd like a new one.

Ideally, it would be large by modern standards (1 cm thick and most of 12cm long when open), have rubbery edges so that it can be dropped and chewed by children, clamshell so that it doesn't dial out from my pocket and I don't need to use fingertips to answer calls (my fingers don't always do as they're told), with big buttons. I'd like a camera, vibe-then-ring ringtone, and if I get a choice I'd love a radio and MP3 player. Being able to receive all sorts of newfangled SMS styles like business cards and photographs would be a bonus, since my Irish family send these things a lot.

I have very little success with Sony Ericson or Nokia, and get on well with Motorola. I have found one whcih seems fairly cheap, but would love to know what you think.
ailbhe: (Default)
Both children have been bathed and fine-combed and I've had two cups of coffee.

Later: everyone has been fed and I've had a shower and a delousing, but I was clear. That Nitty Gritty comb hurts. But it works, it even takes empty egg cases off.

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