Reading material...?

Tis the season! We've all been ill again!

Jay developed a chest infection, kindly passed on to us. He was having such trouble sleeping that I had to prop his bed up at the head end so he didn't drown in his phlegm overnight. Trying to find books* that were of sufficient and equal depth I returned to his bedroom and encountered raised eyebrows from the other half.

"Are you sure those are appropriate?"
"Sure, they're about the right depth, why on earth not?"
"'Mass murderers' and 'Children who Kill'? He might get ideas..."
"They're to prop his bed up with, not bedtime stories!"




* I have a strong interest in forensic and criminal psychology, something which several of my previous partners have also found unnerving over the years.

Master of the Univers(ity)

I am now allowed to call myself a Master of Health Psychology.

That is all.

How Many Jaffa Cakes?

Jay has been attending nursery for 3 full days a week for the past month. And he LOVES it. It's been easy to see some big changes in him over the past few weeks, the main one being his language development. He can now hold a conversation with you, sometimes with a lot of babbling interspersed with real words, but you can always get the gist. He likes to speak to people on the phone and tell them what he's been up to, this includes telling people that the car got broken (Mummy locked the keys inside!) and the man came to fix it and fixed the wheels (the wheels weren't fixed that day but Jay's life revolves around fixing wheels on all sorts of items at the moment). He also likes to get a carrier bag from the cupboard, load it up with toy cars, take mine or Daddy's keys and announce, "Goin' shops. Get Jaffa Cakes. Ok, bye." That boy has his priorities straight!

He had swine flu round 2 a couple of weeks back. This time Daddy and I succumbed as well. However, Daddy got it first, cue many many 'man flu' jokes from me, until I myself came down with it a week later. That was when I decided to get confirmation from the National Pandemic Flu Service, who offered us Tamiflu (we didn't bother). I guess it had mutated enough for Jay to get it again as he had all the same symptoms, except this time he was very sick too, so we had the midnight bathing session whilst I tried to scoop/wash undigested spaghetti off of the bedding and carpets (more difficult than it sounds!). Anyway, we're all fine again now, although my asthma flared up for a week.

Now it is time to be looking at nurseries for him for EYFS learning. His current nursery does this, but I would prefer him to go to a nursery attached to the school he will (hopefully) attend. The one I want him to go to we are right on the edge of the catchment area, so there are no guarantees he will get in at Reception if there are other children closer by. I'm just hoping that as it's a 2-form entry school with 60 places per year we'll be alright.

We're trying to teach him little things ourselves - we have alphabet and numbers wall charts and he can count to 7 or 8 quite comfortably, although he still has a preference for the number 'fwee' and a dislike of five, meaning he will often count "One, two, fwee, four, fwee, six. seben, eight" but he's getting there. He knows enough about numbers to ask for fwee Jaffa Cakes, which at the moment is probably all the numerical knowledge he needs to get by.

Pretty Baby: Part II

Following my last post, we took a trip to our local retail park where there is a very large store divided into a Marks & Spencer and Sainsbury's. The other half needed a new suit, which came to a very reasonable £149 (down from £300!) and then we wandered into Sainsbury's to pick up something for dinner.

After having browsed the DVD section and picking up 2 cheap Bob the Builder "BDBs" (DVDs) for Jay and series 1 & 2 of The Tudors for myself, Jay spotted the little girls' jewellery stand. Now he loves my jewellery and always wants to wear one of my necklaces, but now he was in raptures - there were BEADS! And he quickly picked out a pastel-coloured, floral-print, elastic beaded necklace for himself off the display. He was quite intrigued by the sparkly pink hair grips too, but we had to draw a line somewhere (and anyway, he's getting his hair cut soon)! We took the tag off and let him wear it, putting just the tag on the conveyor when we paid. The other half felt the need to excuse that our son was wearing a necklace to the cashier, who replied that he had a couple of kids and they ALL tend to like these things at this age. I on the other hand couldn't give a monkeys what other people think of my 2 year old son wearing a necklace.

The only problem is, since we've returned home he has also taken a liking to my bangles. So it seems that my jewellery box is still not safe from little hands. Oh well, at least he's not asking for pierced ears just yet!

Pretty Baby

When Debbie Harry sang "Pretty Baby" I don't think she meant it literally.

I however, do have what might be termed a "pretty baby". Ever since he was born people have commented on Jay's looks. Somehow he managed to look less red and scrunchy than other newborns, although he did go through the 'gnome' phase at around 3 weeks old. Taking him out and about as a tiny baby was fun - we once bumped into a friend of my Mum's who cooed over him, then asked "How old is he now? It is a he, right?" Dressing him in gender-neutral colours was always good for a laugh.

As he got older he became much more obviously boyish, and most clothes he wears now are pretty obviously for a boy, even if we do steer clear of the 'monster' and 'devil' type slogans. But there is one group of people who still Just. Don't. Get. It.

Old people.

Now ok, his hair curls when it gets a little long. I love it. But he could be dressed top-to-toe in blue, with us referring to him by name, and still the elderly folks we encounter refer to him as a 'her' or 'she'.

Despite much pointed use of his full first name (his nickname is gender-neutral) and the words "he" and "his" our neighbours continue to talk about how well behaved our daughter is and how they never hear her cry. But of course! Because she doesn't exist! Our son on the other hand... well, I guess it's true that hearing really does go with age. Thankfully the old boy across the road instantly took him for a boy, which leaves me with some hope.

Jay is known to like things which may be considered 'typically' female. Whilst out shopping he has picked out sparkly pink trainers and Barbie DVDs for himself (usually when there is no Bob the Builder or Thomas and Friends available mind you); he likes to wear my necklaces, shoes and a squirt of perfume if it's available (if the air freshener is in reach he has been known to try that too - Mmmmm, Eau de Febreeze), and he loves to cook in his kitchen and feed his dolly. He likes washing and 'fixing' his cars just as much, but perhaps if he learns to sing and dance he could have quite a lucrative career as a drag artist?

Crappy Birthday to You

Jay turned 2 last week, we had planned a fabulous day out and lots of fun. I had gone as far as to book 2 days off work, cash in my Tesco clubcard vouchers for a free ticket to LegoLand Windsor so that we could get in for half price (under 3's are free), and saved money for junk food and ice creams. The weather was set to be gorgeous and we were planning to leave early.

Except that in the early morning the day before, Jay woke up thoroughly miserable. The other half went and brought him into our bed and I noticed he felt rather warm. About half an hour later he woke himself up by wretching, as he tends to do when he has a fever (such as after his MMR). Nothing was brought up, but he was in a bad way. Having established that Daddy would be ok taking care of him I went to work as usual, hoping that as has happened before this would be a 24 hour thing.

Except I knew it wouldn't be really. My sister, freshly returned from University with a BA only days previously and having spend extended time with her nephew since then was now on day 4 of an illness suspiciously like the dreaded Swine Flu. When I got home from work I found a pale, lethargic little boy with a yo-yo-ing temperature, runny nose and cough dozing in a specially made sick-bed on the sofa. He had eaten barely 6 teaspoons of Ready Brek all day, preferring to drink water and lay on the sofa watching Top Gear on Dave between sleeps.

As his temperature stayed stable for quite a few hours we decided just to keep him downstairs with us, but as we prepared to go to bed his temperature soared again to a massive 39.2°. I decided to call NHS direct, which indicated an up-to 4-hours wait time due to swine flu calls. Thankfully due to his age and symptoms we were called back within the hour, but were advised not to take him anywhere until his temperature reached 39.5° - not the same advice given at work when there had recently been a case of a toddler death due to a febrile convulsion. Because I couldn't say for certain he'd not been in contact with anyone with Swine Flu (hello, my sister was at University! She's not in contact with everyone she could possibly be infected by!) we were told there would be no swabbing or Tamiflu given. How interesting that just a week later swabbing has stopped in our area and people are just being given Tamiflu 'as a precaution' when my poor son had to go cold turkey.

Speaking with the Nurses and HVs at work there is little doubt that Jay did indeed have Swine Flu. He ticked all the boxes. Interestingly, the other half and I have not become ill, nor have my parents. A week on and he is fine, still a bit tired, but his symptoms cleared up quickly, leaving him just sleeping it off for the most part - he 'disappears' whilst I go to the loo or to get a coffee or something and I'll find him snuggled down in our bed fast asleep. Jay going to sleep that quickly, let alone taking himself to bed is usually unimaginable, so I know he must still be feeling pretty lousy!

So no LegoLand for us! And it will be a while before I can take more time off and we can all go as a family. I don't want to go in the school holidays, so we're looking at September as a possibility.

Thankfully he had enough energy for presents and balloons on his actual birthday, and did manage a short bike ride in the afternoon on his new bike, but it was a bit of a damp squib compared to what had been planned.

And then to round off the day, pretty much 2 years exactly to the minute since Jay was born, Michael Jackson died. So this birthday will definitely be one that sticks in my memory!

Feignters

I'm in the office alone this morning. I'm supposed to be 'manning the phones' whilst the nurses are out vaccinating teenage girls, but surprisingly calls have been thin on the gorund, and I have no data entry work to do, hence updating.

As mentioned above - vaccinating teenage girls. Vaccinating. Teenage. Girls. What fun! I'm quite glad not to be there really. When I attend vaccination sessions it usually takes the same format - girls fall into three categories: the troopers; the gigglers; and the hystericals. Boys generally fare better, you get them in loud and louder.

Boys are amusing to vaccinate. Initially they are all trying to hide their worries behind bravado, heckling friends who are having theirs done, whilst quietly asking you questions such as "It's only one injection, right?", "You do use clean needles for each of us, don't you?" and "Does it hurt?" Their sincerity and worry always serves to make them look and sound about 10 years old, despite the vast majority towering over me (although, at 5'4" that's not a difficult feat to achieve), so I am always kind to them, despite wanting to giggle at their calling me "Miss". Generally afterwards the bravado comes back as they incredulously ask "Was that it?!" following their 3 second-long single injection, resulting in much crowing to their mates about how it was nothing, then punching all their mates in the sites of their injections.

The girls are another matter. The troopers are great - they come in, they roll up their sleeve, have their jab and leave without issue. The gigglers are usually ok once they get into the chair, but they are always good to make jokes with or about. It's the hystericals who are the problem. Ok, maybe I'm being harsh by lumping them all in together as hysterical. Some aren't. But there are tears and whining and asking for friends to be present. Those who have friends with them are invariably the 'performers', yelping "Owowowowowowow!" loudly whilst their vaccine is being injected - you never hear this from the girls who come in alone.

I'm not knocking those with a genuine fear, after all, I'm terrified by cotton wool and Tom Cruise; phobias come in all shapes and sizes. But it's when you get one that sits down and whines "I'm scared of needles" when she has half a jewellery shop stuck through various holes in her face and body that you have to bite your lip and look the other way. They will sometimes attempt to justify this with declarations that that was different, because it was their 'choice'. Fine dear, we're not forcing you to have this injection, that's a choice too, but the consequences may be far worse if you don't have this needle than if you didn't have the one that went through your tongue.

We do get the odd extreme cases too. Some are known to faint rather dramatically (assumedly not always genuinely) and last time this happened a note was made on our files "Feinted".

"Ok, who's the joker?" I ask.
One of my colleagues looks over, "Oh, that's me. I can't spell."
Whoops! "I thought it was intentional," I quickly rescue, "As in she feigned fainting."
"I hadn't thought of it that way," my colleague replied.
"Well, maybe it could be a new office codeword?" I suggested.