To any Mums reading this blog..

Happy Mother’s Day! (OK, I realize that this is only going to work for UK Mums, but to any Mums reading, have a great day too).

Well, so far having a great day. My (step) son Myles and daughter Lizzie bought me the most gorgeous little Boofles key ring (mine says “My Keys” on it) so now has pride of place on my keyring, along with my Marvel keyring (yes, I am a geek, and care not one jot!). At least it is now big enough that I can’t lose it in my bag.

Apparently today later on Myles, Lizzie and I are going to watch The Hunger Games on Netflix together – that is the film that they have chosen for me. I really am looking forwards to it very much.

Cathy is settling in very well, today is feeding day so (with some trepidation) I am looking forwards to doing that too. Myles is going to help me as I think for my first go it is going to be a 2 person job. I have the following things to do:-

1 – Get her dinner out of the freezer

2 – Clean and disinfect her RUB (really useful box, where she is going to eat)

3 – Once her dinner is defrosted, pop Cathy in her RUB, and dangle her dinner in front of her.

4 – If Cathy doesn’t take her dinner, I am going to have to brain the pinkie (her dinner) and leave her for an hour.

5 – No dice on her eating? Back into her vivarium she goes.

6 – Whilst she is eating (or not), Myles and I are going to clean her vivarium out and move it around a little for her, as she is one inquisitive girl.

Yep, just because it is Mother’s Day doesn’t mean I am going to renege on my responsibilities as a Mum to Cathy.

Oh, I took a couple of pictures of her the other day, I woke up at 9pm to find Bert the other side of the bedroom glaring at Cathy’s viv. I shall explain further, aided by pictures of course…

1

THIS is apparently Cathy eyeballing Bert. Oh yeah!

2

And THIS is her watching Wheeler Dealers. Honestly, they are verbatim the words that came out of Bert’s mouth!

Slight case of paranoia? Methinks so!

So, I am off to finish watching one of the Bring It On films with Lizzie. The things a Mum does!

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It was 5.30am yesterday, so just a little 5.15am post today!

Well, today is D Day. Actually, I was just thinking how that came to be used in our vernacular. I use it quite often, and genuinely mean no disrespect to those that fought. I think I should reign it in a little thinking about it.

Today, I can go and get Catherine Earnshaw (already shortened to Cathy). The shop sent me her feeding and shedding records last night, and the last time I visited her, they got me to rub some kitchen paper on my hands and face so they could put it in a sealed bag and give it to her 24 hours after she had fed and apparently she has chosen to digest on said crumpled piece of paper half in and half out of a loo roll instead of her coconut shell where she would normally digest.

I have to wait until 12pm to go and get her but that is no problem as we have a few jobs that we need to do first. You know, just the normal thing like sending elephant’s feet in the post (eew, eew and thrice eew – I hasten to add they are from when it was legal to do s0). Fortunately, we are also going to get Myles a new phone so he can keep in touch with Sophie as his contract is nearly up and a new pair of jeans. Also brain bleach for me for the elephant’s feet.

Oh, Sophie sounds like a total darling. She sent me a friend request on Facebook last night and we had a little natter via PM and she is a total doll. I told her that when she is ready, to come and see us and apparently she had been not dreading coming to meet us, but nervous and I had taken that away in one message. She is coming to see us this weekend. She has told me she is shy until she gets to know people but by the way we were nattering via PM, I think she might be over the shy bit already with me. I am so looking forwards to seeing her.

Bloody Frank paid a visit yesterday when we were round at my Mum’s house sorting the bloody feet out. All I remember is being really tired and asking if I could put my head down and next thing I remember is Bert waking me up. Apparently I had had a series of simple partial seizures, followed by 4 complex partial seizures. And do I remember any of them? Nope! I was actually quite surprised at the amount of people who do have epilepsy in the public eye.

So, today is going to consist of embracing some form of personal hygiene, getting rid of the bloody feet (I have made Bert keep them in the car – over my dead body were they coming in the house), popping into town to get Myles some jeans and a couple of other bits and bobs,  and finally, after a whole 5 days that seemed like 5 months wait – getting Cathy and bringing her home. Oh ffs, here I go with the Wuthering Heights quotes agian! I suppose I have asked for it calling her Catherine Earnshaw.

I joined a very welcoming and informative forum on corn snakes and they have told me that although she is going to need a week to settle in, it is perfectly permissible to take some photographs of her when I am putting her in her new home as long as the flash on my camera is off – yay for buying bridge!

So, with what is possibly the weirdest list of things to do today (post elephant’s feet and get snake), I shall say farewell.

Sarah

Just a little 5.30am post..

Ok, seeings as how I have been showing off a little with my new found ability to both add links and put pictures in a post, this is just going to be a plain old boring one, a quick catch up on what has been going on.

The carbamazapine is building up in my system at an alarming rate, so much so that typing is not the easiest (due to a slight case of double vision) so thank you safari for you in line spell check!

Myles has his first official girlfriend! It is “FaceBook” official, and she put it up, not him. I have to say, she is stunningly gorgeous – he has done so well there. He is going to bring her round to meet us in the next couple of weeks – I can’t wait as she sounds like a lovely young lady.

On the subject of Myles’ girlfriend, bless her, she thought that she had upset Myles last weekend. They were all at another friends’ house discussing what they were getting their Mums for Mothering Sunday (for us, it is this Sunday).

Now I know what I am getting – I asked Myles and Lottie to pick a film for me and we would watch it together downstairs (this might sound odd, but I spend most of my spare time in bed as it is safest for me), so he was telling Sophie (his new girlfriend) this. I don’t want cards or flowers, the fact that they want to spend time with me is enough. Then Myles made an off the cuff remark that he would just get his real Mum a card and shove it in the post (she lives in another country to us). Well, poor Sophie thought she had upset Myles. This is all Myles relaying the story to me yesterday morning by the way.

She thought she had upset him and bless him, he started laughing (I did tell him he was a tinkerbell for doing that!). He explained that he had practically no relationship with his real Mum and that he and I are very close. I was a *tad* confused as to why poor Sophie would make not the mistake, but not understand the set up. Apparently, although Myles calls me Sarah to my face, when he is out of the house, he and all his friends call me Mum, i.e. he says that he had better call Mum and Dad just to let us know what is going on – you get the idea.

Considering his poor relationship with his real Mum, I actually take is as a compliment that he calls me Sarah, as he has explained to me that he has NO happy memories with her.

He does, however, have bragging rights now. He is the only one of his friends whose “parents” are married. ALL of his friends have to choose between where they go home to at night – it really does make me sad. It does, however, make Myles rather smug in a good way!

Myles and I have what we call our “deep and meaningfuls” – our huge conversations that go on for hours. When I first started back in a relationship with his Dad, he dropped a bombshell on me. He told me that if he could have picked a girlfriend for his Dad, he would have picked me. I am not going to lie, I might have leaked some tears at that one – it was such an unexpected and beautiful thing to say for a young man who was 12 at the time. Gah! I can’t believe he is going to be 16 this year! He loves hearing stories about his Dad when he was younger, and I love telling them too! I think like any child or young adult, they forget that their parents had a life before they came along, so he loves plugging the gaps. I actually have known his Mum too since we were both 13. I didn’t like her then, and certainly don’t like her now but never bad mouth her to any of our children. Bert is the only person that gets any feedback on how I am feeling about how she treats Myles.

I asked him if he wanted to get his Mum a Mother’s Day card, and as we were going to town, he just asked me to pick one up for her. He was very specific that it wasn’t to be too over the top, just something simple and not slushy. So, at the grand price of 89p – one bought and put in the post.

So, today. I have a pile of washing I want to pop away, I have a pampering session and then Bert and I are going shopping, THEN I can come home and call the breeder to see if Cathy is happy and I can pick her up tomorrow!

Sarah

Let it Be.

Well, hello 2013. Not quite the start I had in mind, but here we are anyway. I have never been one for celebrating – my idea of celebrating New Year’s Eve is by being asleep by 10pm.

It stems back to 1987. My grandmother died that year and December the 31st was her birthday so ever since then, it hasn’t been a day either my Mum or I wished to do anything other than remember her on. Only this (well, now last) year it took a turn for the worst.

I have held on to a secret for so long that I had not forgotten for one minute about it, but it had become so far boxed away in my brain that it almost seemed to belong to another person.

I am going to keep this brief, as I am exhausted, but I need to get this written down, as proof to myself, and hell, to use the American word, to get some form of closure.

December 31st 1991 something horrendous happened to me. Bearing in mind, I was 18, living alone as Bert had dumped me and I was NOT in a good place in my life. I lived in a grotty flat with a mattress on the floor in the bedroom, a mattress on the floor in the living room (no sofa) and just a cooker, kettle and portable TV. No chairs, no comforts. That was my life as I was making minimum wage waiting on and that just about covered my rent. I have even eaten cold beans out of the tin in the dark, but this isn’t what this entry is about- not trying to portray myself as a martyr here.

What I am about to write is incredibly difficult for me to do so as I only told Bert about it a few weeks ago as I could have gone a lifetime never telling him. BUT – my seizures have changed yet again, and I was terrified of it coming out when I was in the middle of a seizure.

Ok, back to December the 31st 1991, or should I say, more specifically, to when Bert dumped me. I tried and tried and tried to get him to talk to me when he did but he is as stubborn as I am and wouldn’t. I had something that I really did need to tell him. I was pregnant. I didn’t want his money or pity, I felt he had a right to know. As he wouldn’t speak to me, I kept it to myself and didn’t go and see a Doctor or anything. Yes, I was well and truly in denial. Lunchtime on December 31st 1991 I was violently sick, and whilst being sick, my waters went. My baby (I still can’t bring myself to use the word ours) was born spontaneously (as were both my other children, no labour or anything) on the bathroom floor. I knew something was wrong straight away. She was what we now call ‘born sleeping’, but in those days, it was called a stillbirth.

I was 18, scared witless, so I wrapped her up as best I could, ran to the phone box and called an ambulance. When they came to get us, I was hemorrhaging badly holding on so tight to this beautiful little girl with a gorgeous mop of blonde hair, but without a sign of life in her.

In the hospital, I was informed that the placenta had detached a couple of days previous and there was nothing that could have been done to save her, and that they would take care of the waste. Yep, they called my precious child waste.

The laws in the land at the time did class her as that, so I begged to be given her to be able to give her a decent send off. She was 31 weeks gone, and nowadays, that is more than viable, but as I was malnourished, I don’t think she ever stood a chance.

I asked them to weigh her for me, and she was 5lbs 1oz but there is no record of her. Nothing acknowledging her existence other than my memories and those of a particularly caring nurse, who went to the special care baby unit to get me a pretty babygro to put her in to go to the undertakers.

The undertakers took pity on me as I couldn’t afford anything, so they gave me a beautiful little white coffin for her, and let me hold her in it on the way up to the crematorium.

At the service, there was the 2 undertakers, the Reverand who married Bert and I, me and my daughter. Not another soul knew I was pregnant, (I have hidden all 3 until the last minute) so that was it.

The loneliness I felt at the time was overwhelming to say the least, but I had been given the chance to name my daughter, who had she lived, would have celebrated her 22nd birthday yesterday. I don’t write this blog under my own name, I write it under hers. Her name was Sarah Emily.

I couldn’t cope with a hymn at her funeral, so maybe the title of the post will give away my choice of music. The Beatles, Let it Be.

“When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be”. I think it was a cry for help from me, and almost a prayer to Sarah that I would never forget her. This is the first time in 22 years I have been able to grieve for her and I know it is going to take a long time to do so, but I am prepared to do this.

I think I have just about reached my limit on what I can say for now, so, in loving memory of my beautiful, blonde tiny baby who would have been 22 yesterday, I just her to know that her Daddy now knows, but we are not telling her brothers or sister just yet. We will though.

My darling daughter who didn’t quite make it, I love you, just as much as my children that did make it. I will see you again soon sweetheart, and I can promise you, you WILL know how much I wanted you and loved you, even for the short hours I held you.