It's raining, it's pouring...am I the only one who cares?

I hate the rain. I don't just find it mildly irritating, or even very annoying, I actually hate it with a passion. My whole mood is reflected by the grey, miserable cloud covering everything.

Take today. Its the first rain we've had in what?... weeks I guess. It wasn't a lot of rain, it drizzled rather than poured, and had stopped by about 930am. But it's ruined the day for me. I'm feeling really down in the dumps, and have reverted back into 'winter mode'- curled up on the sofa with a mug of tea. All I want to do is sleep, and wake up again when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When I'll have a lot more patience with my children and my husband. I am blaming my husband for today's rain as he keeps moaning that he has to water the garden. He is therefore solely responsible for this, and any subsequent rain we get.

Irrational I know, but I can't help it. I really do hate the rain. I just wish my children did too.

But it doesn't seem to bother them in the slightest. This morning I was not happy because I didn't have the car, so we had to walk to school. I apologised to Presley about this, she looked at me like I was insane and said "It doesn't matter Mummy, we'll only get wet." This is true, and that is the problem. I hate getting all wet and soggy. Feeling the drizzle on my face, splashing through puddles and then having to dry copious raincoats and covers just gets me down. I actually loathe going out in the rain so much that I have seriously contemplated not taking Presley to school on several occasions owing to inclement weather. I only still do because I know she'd never let me hear the end of it if I didn't.

Orson hates the raincover on the pushchair... not because he doesn't like being shut in, but because he thinks the feel of rain on his face and hair is hilarious. He nearly combusted this morning when I said it was raining. he had his Buzz lightyear wellies on and was standing by the front door holding his raincoat, and had an enormous strop when I told him he was going in the pushchair. I don't have time for him to walk to school anyway, let alone stopping every few yards for him to splash in a puddle. The rain cover was kicked off at least 5 times on our journey this morning. I wouldn't bother but Chester is in the back of the buggy and looks mildly perplexed by the feeling of rain, and I don't want a wet and soggy baby with a cold.

Presley insisted on sandals for school. She is in 'summer mode' and so won't hear of going back into her shoes, and was disgusted with me for wearing jeans today instead of shorts. She seems to have developed a bad case of selective hearing again, as my shrieks of 'Don't jump in the puddles in your sandals' went unheard. How odd.

When I stop and think about it rationally, my phobia of rain could be described- at best- as slightly silly (at worst- downright idiotic.) On very wet winter days, when the kids are climbing the walls after being shut in all day, I'll sometimes bite the bullet and take them out puddle jumping. The joy on their faces as they leap up and down soaking everything within a 10ft radius always makes me realise that I should have taken them out earlier in the day, rather than staying in waiting for it to stop. Children just don't care if they have water in their wellies, or if their hair goes frizzy, they love the fact that there is pools of water everywhere for them to jump in and over.

When Presley was just 3 we had a run of lovely spring weather. I was very pregnant with Orson at the time and trying to do as many special things with her as possible before I was due. I promised her that we would go to the park for a picnic. The day was arranged, I took her to the supermarket and let her choose whatever food she wanted for us. The day came, and after weeks of warm sunny weather, we woke to see that it was grey, wet and miserable. I sadly told Presley that we couldn't go, that we'd have to have our picnic at home instead. She broke her heart and begged and pleaded with me to still take her. I gave in. She always has that effect on me. We donned wellies, raincoats and gloves (it really was that cold) and off we went.

I hate to admit it but I was glad we did go. We had a brilliant time. The entire park was deserted apart from the hardiest of dog walkers. We had all the play equipment to ourselves, and we ate our picnic in the bandstand. Yes, we were soaked to the skin. Yes, we had very wet and cold bottoms from the swings and the slide and yes, my hair looked ridiculous. But we were happy. Presley still talks about it now and always says what fun it was. And it was.

It has to be said though, the best bit was getting home and curling up together with a mug of hot chocolate.

But we did dry out... eventually.

Questions... who knows the answers?

One thing motherhood brings with it is endless questions.

Questions the children ask; "why?" and "whats that?" being the current favourites of Orson.

Questions other people ask; "Does that little girl over there belong to you?" My answer usually starts with "Why, what's she done?" before I admit to actually owning her.

And questions we ask ourselves "Should I have let them do that?" "Can I afford it?" "Why are they being like this?!"

To some questions the answer is a simple yes, no or because I say so. But other questions seem to me to have no answer. I have attempted to list some below. If anyone can come up with a definitive answer, or just a witty retort please post!!

1. Why do small children see nostrils and nappies as the ideal places to store small objects?

2.Do any other TV channels exist during the day other than cbeebies or playhouse Disney?

3. How do children instinctively know when you have a headache, and choose then to unleash their noisiest behaviour?

4. Do you think the creators of Thomas the Tank Engine knew all small boys would end up saying 'F***ing Roller' instead of Fat Controller? Did they do it just to embarrass hundreds of parents?

5.How do you keep a straight face when your 5 year old tells you she wants a hamster and wants to call it faggy wanky????!!!!

6. Why does the phrase "keep the sand in the sandpit please" mean the complete opposite?

7. How can you serve a meal up one week and have it all eaten, yet serve it up again another week and no-one likes it?

8. Is there anything children won't do for the promise of sweets/cake/chocolate?

9. Has the naughty step ever worked for anyone? I put mine on it just so I get a couple of minutes peace.

10.Is Mr Justin Tumble actually human? Why do small children either love him or loathe him? There is no middle ground. He is the marmite of children's TV.

11.Why are purses, kitchen cupboards, handbags and makeup bags an endless source of fascination?

12. Are all girls born with an attitude problem?

13. How do kids stand in the paddling pool or sea shivering and turning blue, but still refuse to get out, telling you they're fine?

14. Why- when you've just told the nice old lady in Sainsburys that yes your children are good most of the time- do they either have a tantrum, pick their nose or start fighting with each other?

15. Does every wash load have to contain at least one odd sock? I'm sure they were all pairs when they went in...

16. How many times is it possible to fake laugh at the joke "Why did the chicken/goat/elephant (delete as appropriate) cross the road?" "To get to the shop to buy chicken/goat/elephant food"



17. Does anyone else laugh when their children fall off furniture? To me there is something quite hilarious about Orson falling off the back of the sofa.

18. Is it considered acceptable to go and do the weekly food shop with baby sick on your shoulder and chocolate smeared on your trousers, and to hum 'Bob the Builder' whilst pushing the trolley?

19. Does anyone else love the park because they get to have a go on the equipment with the kids?... No? Oh. Just me then.

20. And, does anyone else like to hide in the laundry basket to scare the kids as they come upstairs? No? Oh dear. I need help.

Chester

My lovely Chester. What to say? He's small. He's sick a lot. That's about it.



Not really. OK, so his full name is Chester William Paul Fuller. William is my Dad's name and Paul is Mark's brother. Chester arrived early, on 22nd January this year. The others were two weeks late, he was ten days early. I was not ready. In my head I had nearly 4 weeks before the baby came. The sledging and constant trudging up and down to school to take Presley to the toilet may have had something to do with his early arrival, but anyway I was immensely proud of him. When we arrived home reality set in. Presley had told her class she would bring him for show and tell. So he was born on the Friday, Monday morning I'm showing him to a class of 4 and 5 year olds.

Its funny how one (seemingly) small addition to a family can make such a huge difference. Chester is very sick, and so gets through an average of 2 complete changes of clothes, 2 sets of p.j's and about 8 bibs a day. Couple that with Presley's clothes and it will come as no surprise to hear that I do 3 loads of washing a day minimum. Then there's the feeds. How can I get 3 children washed, dressed and fed and all be out the house for 8:30. when a small person is stuck onto me? Chester did the school run in his pyjamas for over a month. Looking back now, those first few weeks were insane. I had also agreed to do a play, so was rehearsing 3 times a week for that. I would feed Chester, drive like a madwoman to rehearsals, then drive back as quickly as possible to feed him again. (Glad I did it though 'cause the play was flippin fantastic!)

Chester quickly understood that we don't do night waking in our house, so however mental the days were we did all get a good nights sleep. And then suddenly, you're out the other side. One day Chester found his thumb and a security blanket. He's been virtually mute ever since! He does cry when he's really rattled about something, or when Orson sits on him but generally he is good as gold.

Everyday is wonderful with Chester. I love looking at his little un-assuming face. So wide-eyed and completely relying on me to feed him, keep him warm and to protect him. In fact, I love so many things about him that I couldn't even begin to list them all! The way he puts his hands on either side of my face and tries to kiss me, the way he bounces up and down with happiness when Mark comes home from work or how he squeals with excitement when Presley or Orson play with him... I could go on and on!

He is growing up so fast, he's only 5 months but can nearly sit un-aided, and is on 3 solid meals a day (GP's advice to try and stop the sickness. It hasn't worked!) I looked at him feeding this morning and thought If I breastfeed him til 9 months like I did with the others, that only gives me 4 more months. And that makes me sad. But then there is so much to look forward to, the first word, the first steps and so much more.

This our party of five... now its time to begin our journey together through life. It won't always be easy, and there will be times when we may resent each other or feel like the odds are stacked against us. But our deep love for each other will keep us together. May the good times always outweigh the bad.

Orson

And so onto my second child... Orson. He is 2. He is very blonde (in looks and intelligence sometimes!) and he is gorgeous. His full name is Orson Elias John Fuller. Some facts about his name- John was Marks Dad's name, and so easy to choose. Elias is the middle name of Walt Disney. Mark wanted to have some kind of Disney name for one of our children at least- but Orson would have looked silly as a Tinkerbell ;) Contrary to popular belief, we did not name him Orson after Orson Welles. We named him after the rather brilliant character of Orson in Desperate Housewives! I love his name, for me it is just the right side of quirky.

When I was pregnant for the second time I was so frightened of having a boy. I only really had experience of girls, and in my head all little boys were monsters! I also thought that boys were not affectionate, and just generally not as much fun as girls. I didn't relish the prospect of spending all my weekends standing beside a muddy, wet and cold football pitch, or hunting for creepy-crawlies. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Orson is affectionate to the point of being soppy! He is full to the brim with kisses and cuddles for everyone. He is always pleased to see everyone, even Presley who feels the need to give him a sly poke or pinch whenever she can (his punishment for being a boy!) His favourite thing to do is to snuggle up with a book and a willing Mummy or Daddy. He would stay like that for hours. Above everyone though, Orson's heart belongs to Grandma. Luckily for him, my Mum feels the same!

And as for being rough and tumble, and into all things gross... He is frightened of slides, would rather watch everyone else on the climbing frame, and its Presley who brings me worms and snails etc. If I ever need a spider moving, she's who I call.

All this makes me love him even more, its those kind of endearing qualities that will make him a lovely caring husband and Daddy one day. I remember watching an episode of 'Friends' when Monica and Chandler get their twins. She looks at the little boy and says "I'm gonna love you so hard that no woman is ever going to be good enough for you," I can now totally understand that sentiment. Although I do hope that he will meet someone lovely one day, I know it will break my heart- I think a mother can always stay close to her daughter but doesn't have the same relationship with her sons- mainly because however modern we deem society to be nowadays, it is still the man who usually goes out to work full time and the woman who spends more time at home with children.

But in the meantime I shall enjoy my boy. I love spending time with him while Presley is at school. He can talk really well and cracks me up as he tries to copy me or Presley. Only this morning he walked into the kitchen, looked at Chester in his chair and said "Hello lovely Chester, you naughty girl and have to go on naughty step my princess."

Clearly some confusion there!

Orson came into this world very quickly, my labour was 2 hours from the first twinge to the final push. He has never done anything quickly again. To be fair, he was never slow at achieving his milestones- its just that compared to Presley he seemed to take aeon's. He walked at 13 months, she did at 10 etc, etc. But he's happy the way he is. Presley loves to be pushed and challenged. He hates it. If I try and race him, he'll amble along picking flowers, or looking at what colour cars are going past. If there is something he wants to get to, rather than make the effort, he will just wait for someone to come along and help him. He will sit for ages while Presley does his hair and make-up, and he always loves the end result!

I always say he is an ideal middle child, he is so easy-going and happy with his lot. He has learnt from a very early age to 'just wait' but rather than moan about it, he just accepts. I think that Presley will always need more attention, partly due to her medical problems but also partly because she is Presley.

I think Orson and Chester will be good company for each other when they're growing up, and that's why I'm glad I had another boy. As much as Presley wanted a girl, I think she would have hated anyone else vying to be crowned Daddy's Princess, but the boys can be a team and will hopefully look out for Presley as they're growing up.

My biggest hope is that I will always have a good relationship with all my children. I do at the moment, and long may it continue!

Presley

Ok, so I've had my holiday now and have decided to get cracking on this blog properly. So far I have only written about my life with the children, and I think that as they are such a huge part of my life and I am literally with at least one of them all the time I will make this blog entirely about them.

I have entitled this post Presley, and I intend to write about her as comprehensively as possible. I have been intending to write about her for a long time, and a lot of people keep saying I should because she is a comedy genius (unintentionally).

Firstly, an introduction to the little girl herself. Her full name is Presley Erica Mary Fuller, of which she is very proud. Any fears I had about saddling some poor child with an unusual name have been entirely abated by Presley's enthusiasm for hers. She is 5 (another reason to be pleased with herself) and, although I do say it myself, outstandingly beautiful. Every child has reasons for why they are special, and Presley certainly has a lot. Not long after being born, Presley developed a birthmark at the base of her spine. This grew very big although it is now diminishing. We went to see a dermatologist who told us that it would go, but he had concerns about her, because a birthmark that starts in that area can denote underlying problems. To cut a long story short after a lot of scans and appointments, when Presley was 14 months old we found out she had spina bifida. Obviously we were quite shell-shocked by this, especially as she had been so quick to crawl and walk (6mths and 10mths). We were told that her spinal cord was tethered to the base of her spine, and would need to be operated on at some point otherwise she would at some point develop serious complications. When she was 2 Presley decided she would no longer wear nappies, and that was the first time we noticed a problem. Basically she had no sensation whatsoever in her bladder or bowels. We managed by taking her to the toilet regularly but she still had accidents every day, maybe 4 or 5 on a good day and 10 or upwards on a bad.

In Feb 09 she went into frenchay hospital to have her spinal cord de-tethered. she had to then lie flat for a week afterwards and wear a support belt for a further 6 weeks. As she is normally incredibly active it was a very hard time for her, but she was so brave and tolerant. When she started to get up the nurses removed the catheter she had in only to discover she couldn't wee. There followed an agonising 9 hours for Presley during which she swelled up like a balloon and cried desperately from the pain. Eventually they put another catheter in and she was comfortable again. They tried again the next day, this time leaving her for 15 hours before giving in. Eventually we were sent home from hospital with intermittent catheters for her, and that is how it has been since. She has very minimal bladder sensation, and will only notice she needs to go when she is already slightly wet. If she is distracted or laughing a lot then she will wet herself. Her bowels have improved to the point that she will only have accidents maybe 2 or 3 times a week, but she still usually wets herself about 3 times a day, worse if she has an infection or is feeling low. Obviously this has huge implications for her, she has a carer at school and can't go to parties or friends houses without wearing a pull-up, which as she gets bigger she doesn't want to do. Parks and play areas are a nightmare for us, as she gets carried away and will not notice that she is wet until she is soaked. Her spinal cord is gradually re-tethering itself so she does occasionally trip or fall as the strength in her legs diminish. One day she will need another operation on her back. But throughout all of this she remains happy and positive. She always looks on the bright side of life, and keeps me smiling. Phew. So that's the hard stuff out the way, onto the happier stuff.
I have never met a child with more enthusiasm for living than Presley. She has her moments, when she can be downright stubborn, rude and even aggressive (she is very much like me), but on the whole she is brilliant. I miss her terribly since she started school, but it has been truly fascinating to watch this little person develop before my very eyes. She is a fantastic friend, she has some really lovely girls and boys in her class (their parents should be very proud) and I love watching her interact with them. She adores reading and writing and is, by all accounts very bright. She has just started to read the easier Roald Dahl books- The twits etc, and the joy we get from them is just amazing. I love it when she curls up next to me and just reads. She also loves to draw and write stories. She says that when she grows up she wants to be an illustrator and a Doctor. Interesting combination. She sits at the kitchen table while I'm cooking and draws, cuts and sticks the whole time. All the while keeping up a running commentary which I've learnt to tune in and out of!
Presley loves the great outdoors. She is very close to my Mum, and they grow countless fruit and vegetables in Mum's garden together. I've offered to grow some at home but she won't have it, that is her and grandmas 'thing'. We walk to school and she always stops to pick daisies or buttercups, or comment on some flowers or birds singing. She is very girly in some ways- always wearing pink girly things and she has 3 jewellery boxes crammed full, but she always knows exactly which necklace or rings will go with which outfit. At the time of writing this she owns 11 princess dresses and has plans to extend her collection when we go back to Disneyland in the summer. All this, and yet she loves playing rough and tumble, climbing trees , making a mess and just generally being active. She doesn't let a pretty dress stand in the way of leapfrogging a post.
I always wanted a girl, and she is everything I could ever have hoped for and so much more.
The best thing about her though, as I mentioned at the start of this post, is that she is unintentionally hilarious. I am going to list some of her more memorable quotes, and add to them whenever she comes out with another classic. Hope you enjoy them as much as we have!

On way home from school.
Me- What did you have for snack today?
P- Lemon.
Me- Lemon? Don't you mean Melon?
P- Lemon, Melon, you know what I mean Mummy. Its the same letters, just a slightly different word.

On a cold, grey February morning as we open the front door.
P- What a glorious natural day. Could just do with a bit more warmth.

4 hours after I have given birth to Chester, when she came to visit.
P- Now that you've had that baby Mummy, why isn't your tummy flat? Its still all fat.

Last week (Chester is now 4months old) as I got out the shower.
P- Your tummy looks just like it did when Chester was growing inside.

Walking to school.
P- Look at theses roses Mummy. What outstanding blooms!

To me after I told her and Orson to tidy up.
P- You are treating me and Orson as your servants Mummy, and I don't think that is very nice or very appropriate. Now go away and come back when you can be civilised.

As I turn the computer on.
P-Can I have google earth on please?
Me- Yes, what do you want to look for?
P- I want to look for Australia
Me- Oh, Grandads Mummy lives in Australia you know.
P- Really, how interesting.
Me- We could look for her house if you want.
P- Not really Mummy, I was being a bit narsastic (think she means sarcastic!)

To Orson while playing.
P- Orson, you are going to be called Nurse kitty OK?
O- yes.
P- Orson?
O- Yes?
P- What did you answer for? I've just told you you're called Nurse Kitty.
O- Sorry.

And so it goes on...!

5am

5am. A time I do not like or relish, unless thats the time I am getting home which used to regularly be the case, now hasn't happened for 8 years!!
I like sleep. Can never really get enough in my opinion. I do not cope well with night waking from my children, a fact which they all seem to have sensed from early on and have mercifully all slept through from a few weeks old. If they're ill its a different matter, but generally they're in bed by 7 and go right through. Until Orson (aged 2) decided that 5am is his new favourite time of day, and I should be re-introduced to it as well. Its every day! We've tried putting him to bed later- he got up at 5. Tried putting him to bed earlier- he got up at 5. Tried no sleep in the day- found him asleep under the kitchen table at 5pm. He still got up at 5am the next day. He has blackout curtains so has no sense of whether it is night or day, but every day without fail he gets up, trots into our room and says "Helloooooooooooo" This is not welcomed by me or my DH. We try and coax him back into bed but to no avail. I have even tried to get him to lie down in our bed (something which I don't ever like as he's too wriggly) but he is just not interested. His day has begun, and so everyone elses must too. By 10am he is crying for bed again.
On Tuesday we had a break, he didn't wake up until 6. But Chester sensed this and decided he must not let the ball drop and so treated me to a 5am wail for a feed. Marvellous.
On the plus side, being up early gives me more time to hunt for shoes.

Bonjour!!

Welcome to my Blog everyone! Not had a Blog before and not all together sure what to do with it, but I strongly feel that the world needs more ME in it. I have all sorts of thoughts going on inside my little head and thought I'd purge myself of these by blogging about them. Plus I am getting my shiny new laptop tomorrow and therefore will be much more inclined to use it if i have something to use it for.

I have decided to call this blog 'Where is your other shoe?!' as I seem to spend a large amount of time saying that. For some reason whenever we need to get out of the house someone is missing a shoe. More often than not, on a school morning, at least 2 out of my 3 children are missing an article of footwear. It baffles me. Presley is 5 and so therefore responsible for getting her own shoes on ready to go to school. But Presley is of the opinion that the world revolves around her (to be fair, it does really) but she cannot seem to comprehend that school will not wait for her. If she can't find a shoe she is just not bothered.
Orson is 2 and still needs me to put his shoes on for him. He will probably still let me do this for him when he's 12 as he is exceptionally lazy about such things. So, I put his shoes on upstairs, we all go downstairs and lo and behold- one shoe has gone.
"Orson, where has your shoe gone?"
"Gone. Shoe gone."
"Yes, i know its gone, but where?"
"Lion took shoe" or some other pearl of wisdom. Cue another (very precious) 5 mins looking for the flamin shoe. Find shoe. Load Orson into buggy. Load Chester into buggy. Start out door. Realise Chester has lost either sock or shoe. Briefly ponder going without said footwear article. Realise how annoyed I would be if someone took me out with one bare foot at 830am and i couldn't tell that person that my foot was cold. Back in house to get another pair (easier than hunting the odd one down). Leave house- a minor miracle that we're ever on time. Pick up shoes from the buggy boys about 500 million times on school journey.
Steadily grow older and more insane!!

I have to go now. Need to go and find shoes for my boys so we can go and pick Presley up!