17/52 2018

Week 17
23 - 29 April



This is Jamie asleep in our bed, having got up but then dozed off again during his morning mama milk. I'm so proud of him as he grows up, but it's also lovely to still get these glimpses of the baby, in these moments of pure contentment.

12/52 2018

Week 12
19 - 25 March



Jamie is not currently a fan of having a bath, which means it's a rather exhausting process for all concerned. Luckily, being wrapped up in daddy's big bath towel makes it better and then we get to crash out for a nap.

10/52 2017

Ah, Jamie asleep. It feels like we used to have more pictures like this... actually we did, but that's largely because as he gets older, Jamie gets even better at doing his sleep in one go in his own room, and isn't often having to find that extra hour in our bed before my PA arrives and we properly start the morning.

40/52

Nap time!



Steve took this picture and I love it, as it's something that happens fairly frequently (even if never quite as frequently as a mummy might wish) but something I never get to see.

Also, it features our two best blankets. My grey one was a gift Steve gave me when we first started seeing each other. And Jamie's rainbow blanket was hand-knit especially for him by his honourary auntie Clare, given to him at the hospital on his first day, and wrapping us both up in love while we got used to being two people. I'm so pleased that the weather is once again cool enough for blanket-snuggling.

20/52

This week's picture is of Jamie relaxing in his tent.



The tent was supposed to be the next phase after he grew out of the downstairs moses basket. We wanted somewhere safe for him to nap during the day, that wouldn't depend on me having support available to bring him up and down stairs. We also wanted something I could get him in and out of unaided, and where I could leave him at least moderately safely on his own for very short periods, for instance while washing my hands after a nappy change. The floor of the tent is at floor level, so no rolling off it, and it has a soft but permanent rim about ten inches high, so it's not easy to roll out. The whole side can be zipped up from outside if necessary, with one white mosquito-net layer and one darker sun-blind layer.

Success has been mixed. He doesn't often sleep in the tent. Even if he's already snoozing in my arms or the car seat, lying him down in the tent is a pretty sure-fire way of waking him up! With the advent of his mobility, we've gated off a big section of the room where he's safe enough for those brief moments, so it's no longer used for containment either.

On the other hand, he does like it in there and sometimes even asks (non-verbally) to go in. It's a little chill-out space of soft light and pastel colour. The only toys which live there are Teddy, and the Crinkly Lion that you can see in the picture - or to put it another way, one thing to cuddle and one thing to chew. It's a space where he can examine his hands or his feet without distraction, and calm down and collect his thoughts when the world has been a bit too stimulating for a bit too long. Steve and I have been known to feel rather envious.

4/52

Slightly late due to assorted family catastrophes... but this week's photo is another sleepy one. Well, sort of.



As you can probably see, Jamie is in fact wide awake.

This week was the beginning of the tentative effort to move from the little bedside crib in our bedroom to the Big Cot in the nursery. Overnight, Jamie will still be sleeping in our room for at least one more growth spurt. But to make the shift as non-traumatic as possible, I planned to start him having late afternoon naps in the Big Cot - overseen by the familiar Ewan the Dream Sheep and Monkey.

So far, it's been limited success only. The nursery is getting established as a safe, comfortable, quiet place, and Jamie hasn't been upset at all. He's cuddled up on the beanbag with me for a feed, then laid down in the cot, and... well... stared at me and Monkey for twenty minutes or more. Quiet. Calm. Content. But very definitely not sleeping! Meanwhile, my mind boggles to see my big strong three-month-old, twice the size he was in October, looking so very tiny-little again.

2/52

This week's photo is of Jamie in his crib by our bedside.



When we brought him home from the hospital, he looked absolutely tiny in here. With his feet at the foot of the crib as per the safer sleeping guidelines, his head barely reached the centre of the mattress! Now, at almost three months old, it seems to fit a lot better.

It makes me feel conscious of the fact that the crib is in fact a six-month rental, by which time he should have outgrown it, and we're halfway through that period already.

He has a bigger cot in the nursery, that should serve for the next couple of years as it converts to a toddler bed. Our plan for the transition is that Monkey and Ewan the Dream Sheep (pictured) will come with him to the nursery. But for now, this is basically what I see by my bedside every morning and evening.

Geek/crip crossover

I just know that a lot of the readers of this blog will appreciate today's XKCD, even if they don't already follow it.


Description: A person saying "The sleep deprivation madness worsens. Things seem unreal. Am I even awake? Maybe I'm dreaming."
The person approaches a tree with a squirrel climbing on it. The person says "I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating this tree. But what if I'm hallucinating that I'm hallucinating and I'm actually totally sane?"
The squirrel replies "Listen. I wouldn't worry about that."

XKCD usually adds an extra comment or punchline as alt-text. Today's is "I'm not listening to you. I mean, what does a SQUIRREL know about mental health?"

I loved this strip on so many levels. It's a perfect depiction of the kind of existential worry that you only encounter when you're sleep-deprived and/or drugged up to the eyeballs, when your grip on reality is slightly fuzzed and you start to ponder the nature of reality... after all, if I am hallucinating, I will be the last person to know that my hallucinations aren't real because they'll originate from my own brain! Maybe I'm hallucinating Steve, or hallucinating the internet...

(That's what usually settles it for me. I could not possibly hallucinate even half the stuff I see online.)

(edit for picture width, although I'm still not sure I've done it right.)

Summer

This is definitely summer. It is scorching hot out there. I have never missed the sea breeze so much.

Going to get a little bit of sea breeze when Steve and I head for the coast at the end of August for Jiva and Munkt0n's wedding. We're really looking forward to that, with extra added squee because the first time we met in real life was when we went to their engagement bash.

That'll just be a weekender though, as Steve can't book any time off work at present. But, Pip and I have been looking into the idea of car hire (Pip took his car off the road after I left town) to enable me to have a proper week's holiday and see everyone. The idea is that Steve could take me part of the way, and hand me and my suitcase over to Pip at a halfway services station. We're thinking probably September would be best, once the kids are back at school. Littlun will be doing half-days, so we'll be able to Do Stuff for half a day without all the local facilities being overrun by Bigger Kids, and then I can rest properly while he's at school.

Until I get some seafront, though, my life has been made that bit more comfortable by work having invested in an air-conditioning unit. The room was getting really quite unbearably hot, what with the combination of (1) thousands of CD cases, flat-pack corrugated cardboard boxes, and other packing materials, also known as insulation; (2) a single barred window which only opens a few inches; (3) a computer on the go the whole time; and (4) up to three adults constantly moving around the room doing work which, while it could not be described as physically demanding, works up considerably more of a sweat than sitting around typing. I don't care that my carbon footprint probably makes the baby Jesus cry. It was getting hard to breathe in there!

And now, I think, I will get my eye-mask out of the fridge, and go upstairs to lie very very still in the hope that sleep will come.

Earthquake

Sorry this post is hardly original.

So yes, at 1am on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning depending on how you look at it, there was an earthquake in the UK.

For me and Steve, in the Midlands, it was enough to wake us up, with the bed shaking and the wardrobe doors rattling, but there's no actual damage.

I am not proud of my reaction, but I suppose it should be documented here...
- I woke up.
- Steve woke up.
- bit of sleepy "WTF?"
- shaking stops.
- Steve decides to go downstairs to check things over, make sure there's no disturbing smells of gas or anything.
- I tell Steve I love him very much. Thought process: There may be a gas leak or aliens might be invading or something and we might all die a fiery death. I wouldn't want him to die without definitely knowing. I wouldn't want to die without having told him. But I'm warm and cosy and I'm stuffed if I'm getting out of this bed. If I die, I die comfy.

Let's hear it for priorities!

In other news, my DLA form has arrived. I would be working on it right now, but I had a broken night's sleep and feel like I've been scraped off the pavement with a pressure-washer.

But, a big big thank you to everyone, on and offline, who has offered to help. You are all very ace.

I Aten't Dead

... but apparently I do a pretty good impression of it, or I did last night.

Last night, the young woman in the flat directly below mine, let's call her S, started a fire. Inside her flat. A couple of metres from my sleeping self.

This rather disturbing news came to me this afternoon courtesy of another resident of the flat-block who we shall call V. I bumped into V in the corridor and exchanged the usual pleasantries, upon which he said "and what about last night, eh?" My blank look led him to expand upon this with the words "the fire?" at which point I managed to articulate that I had no idea what he was on about. He related the story as follows:

Late last night, V heard a commotion outside and went downstairs to see what was going on. He encountered some firemen and found S sitting in the middle of the road outside, crying. He physically pulled her onto the kerb and sat and had a cigarette with her and asked what was going on. S claimed that she had seen a mouse, which had run into a paper bag, and that she had then picked up the paper bag, shoved it into the bin, and set fire to the bin in an effort to kill the mouse. Then she had called the fire brigade. She didn't proffer an explanation for the sitting in the road.

I feel quite relieved that the fire station isn't far away.

I feel a bit disturbed that, now I think about it, there's no fire escape here. The front door is reached only by going past the downstairs flats. I don't like my chances of physically managing to climb out of a window, and I really don't like my chances of landing safely on the concrete some 15-20 feet below.

I feel quite annoyed that she called the fire brigade but didn't, oh, just as an example, start shouting "FIRE! FIRE!" or banging on doors to wake the people she'd put at risk.

I feel quite scared that I slept through the firemen turning up and coming in and putting out the fire. On the one hand, okay, they don't use the sirens at night unless there's a big need to, but surely I should have heard the doors banging and stuff? I will take my night-time tablets tonight but it does bother me a little.

And I also feel a little suspicious about the mouse story. I don't know about you, but if I saw a mouse in my flat running into a paper bag, I would probably throw said bag out of the window. If I DID put the bag into the bin, I would then hold the lid of the bin closed and take it outside. I wouldn't hunt around for a lighter and then attempt to ignite the bin. If I was really desperate to set fire to the thing, I'd at least get it the hell out of my flat first...

But, I don't know how S's mind works. She has a lot of problems, including a Class A drugs habit. Maybe there was a mouse. Maybe she hallucinated it. Maybe the pixies told her to start the fire. Maybe she was in the road hoping the fire engine, in its haste to answer the call, would run her over. Maybe it was a cry for help. Maybe it was boredom. I haven't the faintest idea.

I desperately hope that this was a one-off.

Awake

Forgive the lack of blogging.

Having dealt with the benefits paperwork and reached the point where there is nothing left to do but wait, whatever was keeping me going this month kind of fell down and I don't seem able to pick it up again.

An apology to the owners of the various blogs I've left comments on this week. I'm just not properly coherent. Think of them less as constructive comments and more as freeform stream of consciousness verbal art. Or a load of old bollocks, whichever you feel is more appropriate.

The current Knitting In Progress is the hat for Sister Dearest - the yarn, Rowan 4ply Soft 100% Merino wool in the shade "Sooty" from Web Of Wool arrived in the post a few days ago. It's the plainest of plain hats possible - 19cm x 155sts of stocking stitch and then about 20 rows with decreasey bits to form the crown. But at the moment, that's about the limit of my capacity.

I really, really want to learn socks. Really basic, boring, do-it-in-your-sleep socks perhaps made a bit more interesting by using multicoloured yarn.

I also want some bungs to go on the ends of my needles, as the problem with a knitted knitting needle case is that the points can rather poke through. Ideally I'd find a range of sizes so that not only would they protect the needles and stop stitches falling off needles-in-use, but also I could keep my needles-not-in-use in pairs. I have a very clear picture in my head of what I want and I feel sure it must be available somewhere but I have no idea what search terms to use.

It's ridiculously late to be blogging. Unfortunately this afternoon and evening I don't seem to have a right leg. Below the knee I simply can't feel at all, and above the knee all the way to the hip is like a very heavy chunk of cold pain, sort of like a brain-freeze sensation but in the muscle of my leg and it's not bloody well going away. It's added considerably to my Lurch Factor while I tried to fix dinner, and it's also stopping me from sleeping. So lucky you, you get the late-night outpourings of my addled little mind.

A large part of the aforementioned mind is taken up with thoughts of moving. I have been promised by Steve that we will definitely get me moved before the year is out. I am excited, nervous, hopeful, trying not to get my hopes up because plans have a tendency to backfire, all sorts of things. It resolves into:

1) the fact of being moved - all the things, good and bad, that are going to be different once I live in Steve's house in a different part of the country and with Steve, rather than on my own in the town where I've lived my whole life and where my friends and family are.

2) the act of moving - the sheer logistics of shifting me and all my stuff is something I'm finding pretty daunting. I moved all my stuff into this flat and got everything set up and unpacked, with the help of Pip, mum and Sister Dearest, within one day. But that was when I was in a position to run up and down stairs bearing items of flatpack furniture. And I only moved a few blocks, as opposed to a couple of counties.

3) the timing or more to the point, the lack thereof. I have no idea if I should be starting to box stuff away now or if I'll be wanting my creature comforts for the next six months. I don't know if I should send my Christmas decorations to Steve's or if I should hang onto them here. There are a couple of things I'd like to buy for the flat - they'll be worth it if I'm here for another four months, but a bit of a pointless waste of money if I'm only here another four weeks.

And now, it's tomorrow, and I am going to take as many painkillers as I'm allowed in the hope of a few hours' blessed oblivion. I do hope this post is at least partially coherent. Good night.

Yarn!

Yarn!
Originally uploaded by girl_of_bats

Yesterday was a nice day. Steve and I went to the Victoria Coffee House on Warwick Street for tea/coffee and scones, which was as lovely as it always is. Proper loose-leaf tea in a pot, proper coffee in a cafetiere, proper fresh warm irregularly-shaped scones with butter and clotted cream and jam... mmm. Also, wireless internets. We arrived just as the lunchtime busy-ness was easing off, which was nice.

A nice, slow afternoon involved playing some Kingdom Of Loathing, in which we're all eagerly anticipating the event of NS13. I would say we're preparing for it, except it's difficult to know how to prepare - a lot of goalposts are being shifted. I play with two characters, one who ascends regularly and tries out different character classes, and one who just gets really really powerful in one class - she's been going for a year but has only just ascended for the first time. I really enjoy exploring the game, and for NS13 I'm putting aside my current gameplay style and trying to get both my characters up to a respectable level so that (hopefully) I will be able to explore all the new content with relative ease.

I apologise that the above paragraph meant nothing to non-KOL-ers.

Anyway, yesterday evening was knitting group in Leamington. It was a nice evening and at first I hoped Steve and I could go on the bike, but then it occurred to me that although I'd be okay on the way there, getting back after sitting and knitting for a couple of hours would be beyond my capabilities. It was a shame because I think Steve has been kind of itching to get on the bike for several days now. Still, he's gone out on it today for a big-long-ride which will probably make him a happy bunny.

I have a really nice time at the knitting group. Everyone's so friendly and welcoming. Carie helped me pick out some colours for the pockets on my knitting needle case, which was really good of her because I think left to my own devices I would have given up and just ordered the exact colours suggested on the example photo on the pattern, even though I don't much like them (too much pink, not to mention a hurts-the-eyes green). Carie is really good at colours and likes choosing yarn study insulation. I've never been overwhelmed by my creative abilities, half the reason I chose knitting was because the instructions are right there, written down by someone else. But to be able to mull it over with the help of a friend was really enjoyable.

Click the picture to see the photo of the yarns we chose on my flickr stream, with notes.

Today I'm pretty shattered, after not just yesterday evening but also a rather energetic night during which I beat Steve up three times. I was dreaming about being chased and, unusually for me, being caught and having to fight off the vampire/grizzly bear/marshmallow blob/killer ants/etc. I've told him to just shove me back. He says he did. Oh well. I'll probably get used to the idea that I don't have the whole bed to myself just as soon as he takes me back home and I have a whole bed to myself again.

edited 14:20 to add tags

Improving

A Good News Day.

Firstly, the antibiotics aren't having anywhere near as spectacular a digestive effect on me as they have been known to do in the past. Which is nice.

Secondly, although I am still almost-deaf in one ear, it's stopped oozing pus and isn't as painful any more as it was on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Thirdly, I've had two decent nights of sleep - little naps keep me going through the day but I need 8-10 hours of proper sleep a night as well in order to keep functioning. At the beginning of the week the ear was waking me up (probably because I kept rolling onto it), but now it's stopped.

And finally, I got a Nice Letter from the Department of Work and Pensions. As the disability claimants in the audience will know, disability benefits are split into two lots, the Incapacity Benefit (IB) which is the money you get to live off because you are incapable of work, and the Disability Living Allowance (DLA) which is the money you get whether you're working or not to cover the additional costs incurred by your impairment for day-to-day living such as tap-turners and kettle-tippers, taxi-fares, shopping delivery services, ready-prepared microwave meals, help with housework, or whatever else you deem appropriate. I'm currently working on a renewal form for my DLA but I'm much relieved by having had a letter today telling me that the IB50 form I filled out before Christmas to renew my IB was successful and therefore that part of my benefit will continue, with the next review not due for a couple of years.

The words "a weight off my mind" don't adequately express the relief I felt upon reading that letter.