It’s cold.

It’s a stay inside kind of season.

Traditionally we do the kinds of things that keep us warm and dry.

Movies.

Bowling.

Cooking.

Craft.

Today we wanted to do something, get out of the house.

Anyone who has been reading for a year, might remember when we attempted the movies last year. It ended in a whole lot of pain when a snotty teen told me that by bringing the babies, I had ruined the movie for everyone. The result was me using a word I am unaccustomed to using.

It started with F and rhymed with truck.

I was so ashamed that I had uttered that word in front of the kids but emotional accusations called for emotion felt words and that is what popped out.

The comeuppance  of the experience was that we don’t do the movies anymore as a family. The big kids hang out for their grandparents to take them or a chance to go with friends comes up.

Movies with toddlers is way worse than taking two babies, as would be bowling, ice skating, or anything that allows older kid participation but not the younger set.

 I break into a sweat at the thought of it.

Can you imagine?

Big kids on the ice, two toddlers running around everywhere, or strapped into their stroller, to prevent the running around but screeching at the top of their lungs because their idea of a good time does not involve belts and prams in any way shape or form.

It just doesn’t work.

For me.

Stress levels too high. Head likely to explode.

Besides that, it is totallyuncool for pre teens to be seen with their mother.

Totally

and I am not prepared to let them go on their own yet.

Ok, it might be different for others and I pass no judgement on that but for me (with my various issues) it’s not right.

Today, I tried to work out what we could all do together and I’m here to tell you, it was hard.

The big kids are too big for play centres. Not that I would be able to take the I - girl there without picking up something nasty requiring a week in hospital, anyway but have you seen my girls lately? They are like willow trees.

The thought of them trying to weave their way through the climbing equipment makes me cringe with thoughts of the fire department having to be called with the jaws of life to extract the gangly pre teen, arms and legs knotted up, like the pit of my stomach.

Even though the toddlers would think a play centre was the ants pants, the pre teens would sneer and sloth down into the bottom of the cafe chairs and claim absolute boredom, or worse still, ask for a coffee because they’re all “growned (groaned) up”, you know. Lily would be torn between being a ‘cool’ pre teen and playing like a ten year old should and Mal, well, he would just be Mal.

Only a few of you out there have been privy to Mal’s obscene dancing skills but I’m sure, if it were a play centre we chose to spend the day, with Hi - 5 or Wiggles music booming through the stereo system, anyone who entered it’s realm, would have their eyes burnt with the sight of his moves.

Cute as I find them.

Other patronage might disagree.

So play centres are out.

Movies, ice skating, bowling out. At least until I have the wonderhusband to even out the numbers - toddlers 2: parents 2 sounds more manageable to me.

I love the idea of parks and beaches in the Summer but in the Winter time, there is just not enough sunshine for me, or anyone else for that matter. That idea was vetoed by everyone, including Mum, who was on the other end of the phone when these discussions were taking place.

So home bound we remain.

We have decided on a DVD afternoon (after the babies have had their  ’sleep off their 5am start’ nap), with popcorn, snacks and I can feel a choc top making session coming on too.

That will have to do.

The chasm between the pre teens and the toddlers has never seemed so vast as it has today.

Immy: “No, don’t do that Noah, that hurts Immy.”

Noah: ” No”

Immy: “I won’t play with you if you are going to do that”.

Noah: (increasingly angrier) “NO”!

Immy: “Oh well, I will just have to…”

Noah (interjecting and pointing to Immy) : “NO!! You in time out”!!!

Why do neighbours who are way past their prime, insist on having loud night sex with their harem of  locals, just outside our bedroom window? At 11:30 pm, no less. Hasn’t anyone heard of the ‘not after 11pm sex policy’ in the boonies? And do they care?

Why do children and husbands pick long trips down in the car to discuss sewerage trucks? Why are sewerage trucks called honey wagons and why is the connector tubing on the truck clear?

Did you know that when you do a spellcheck on email, it doesn’t recognise the word blog? It keeps telling me to change it to bog. David thinks my spellcheck is trying to tell me something! Hmmph!!!

Noah (sctatching vigorously): “I have fleas. I need a bath!”

  gotfleas.mp3   for those of you who want to hear the evidence. Oh and give it a minute, he needs time to warm up!

I put them to bed. I snuggle them down. Noah has Ted and Ivy’s arms cling tightly around BokBok, boa also in hand.

They are so not ready to settle but I sit with them anyhow, willing them to go to sleep.

As twins they have the right, it seems, to suddenly start a banter of toddler babble back and forth over parental heads.

David is grotty. He has spent the afternoon mowing the toys  lawn. He is sighing and fidgeting, so I send him off to the shower.

Soon they start singing;

Ivy; “Ooh Wiggywiggywiggy! Oohh wiggywiggywiggy! Givemethatgivemethatgivemethat cheese!”

Noah: “Ro - ock uh byeeee bahbee, onthetreetop! When de win bloessss (growling) cradlewillrock… I throw de rock Mummy”?

Me: “No, Noah, we don’t throw rocks, now go to sleep. Close your eyes”.

Noah: Pulls lids of eyes down manually, “I carrrrrn’t”.

Me: “Shoosh”. (smiling not so inwardly).

Noah: “Sauce? I like de sauce, Mummy”.

Me: “Not sauce No - No, shoosh.

Noah: (singing) Shoosh? Sauce! Sauce, sauce, sauce, sauce!

Ivy: (interjects) “Shoes“!

Noah: “Shoes? Yes! Shoes, sauce, sauce, sauce, shoes, sauce”,

Ivy: (interjecting again) “Shorts!”

Noah: “Sauce, sauce, sauce, shorts, sauce, shoes, sauce, sauce, sauce sauce. No - ot shoosh!”

David comes back from the shower and I leave.

I have to.

I am laughing so hard, my insides hurt.

Sauce!

My Parents in Law came up to visit yesterday and made me feel as though I was a partially competent parent.

My children were all ecstatic to be spending time with them.

We had a roast lamb ( with gluten free gravy).

Ivy had her first (almost) solid poo since…well, I don’t remember really… September 07, I think.

I had  a private party because the toddlers didn’t understand why I was dancing around the house and the big kids thought I was gross and David thought that I had finally lost the plot, when I described, in intimate detail, the consistency of said poo. Either that or he thought I had a very sad life, such was his facial expression! Ok, so maybe it was a little sad and maybe I just didn’t care what anyone else thought, I was par - tay - ing baby! It was just one semi - solid poo amongst the sludge but, hey, it’s a start, wouldn’t you say?

David said I could use some of the fortnight’s income to start stacking up on Winter clothes for the children. Oh I do love me some clothes shopping! Especially for the toddlers.

Two gorgeous friends made my day! (Trish, Mary, please stand up and take a bow).

The bad;

Noah was briefly possessed by my father and proceeded to rant, rave and bark orders towards anyone who cared to walk in his general direction. When he was reprimanded, I’m sure I could hear him mutter under his breath.

Sleep is for the weak and obviously I am not considered weak enough yet.

Four out of my five asthmatics have acute asthma. Crazy, crazy weather that we are having at the moment.

The ugly;

Anyone remember this? The round about way that we had to get an appointment with the derm clinic that turned out to be this Friday coming and not last Friday because the paed was ‘misled’ by the dermatologist.

 *SIGH*

I love living in the boonies. (Sarcasm becomes no one, Tiff).

The dermatology clinic called last night (in the witching hour, of course) to ask us if we had made an appointment at all because Ivy’s name was not on the list! I explained that, yes, we had an appointment, that we had made it two weeks ago!

They proceeded to tell me that because we had no appointment and the dermatologist insisted on seeing us we would just have to come at 8:30 and wait until they could ’slot’ us in!

Despite the fact that we. did. make. an.  appointment!!!!!!

I was told that we should expect a long wait.

With two toddlers.

R  I  G  H  T.

Obviously, this lowly resident did not have children, nor did he have the experience of twin two year old toddlers, who wait for nothing.

Not even a hoity - toity -  la -  dee -  da dermatologist.

The question now is, do we go?

Ivy really needs a review of her medications but waiting around, possibly all day to see this guy who may or may not do that seems… just… dumb.

What would you do?

Two toddlers on prednisone, of course!

That’s right. You know that little cold that Ivy aquired at the paddle pool? Well, Noah got it too and it became an asthma attack that needed prednisone. Yesterday was day three and the ‘roid rage was in full swing… or should I say road rage? (Thank goodness his course is over).

Here is a photo of my normally sweet natured boy mouthing off in his car. It was raining and so the car had to come inside for the day. Hate to be in the car with this dude, when he really gets his license. Talk about cranky!

So, can anyone tell me what is worse than two toddlers on Pred? Go on, have a guess…

Two toddlers and a small rat dog on pred!

Bet you didn’t see that one coming.

Oh yes, we are keeping prednisone producing pharmaceuticals in business!

The dog had fleas. We got rid of the fleas but the dog kept scratching.

Turns out he gets eczema too!

A course of prednisone will fix that, says the vet.

(Insert maniacle laugh of choice here)

Why not?

The dog doesn’t scratch anymore but has gone into some major hyperactive springing and amazing tap dancing on the glass door.

So does anyone want to wager a guess on what is worse than all of the above?

A husband who has caught the toddlers’ cold!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Wah.

Boohoohoohoohoooooooo!

*sob*

*sniff*

Please click here to see my previous feelings on Pathetic Male Disease.

Nothing has changed.

To top it all off Ivy’s blisters came back in full force this morning. (You can check out the up dated photos here).

It’s not on her bottom so much as travelling down her legs now and in her mouth.

Of course the paed is not in today.

In true Ivy style though, when she spotted the blister in the mirror, she exclaimed…

“Ooooh, lolly! Lolly on me - ee!”

Oh sweetie, if only it were.

We went to the paed today.

There. That wasn’t so bad. A start.

The paed was lovely, kind, caring. I seriously couldn’t fault him today. He even charmed Maddy, who had come with me to help.

Noah is fantastic. Growing well. Chest is good, the Singulair is working. He is developing well. You would never know he was born at 30 weeks gestation. Happy, contented toddler, dream child. Shook the paed’s hand and was generally the little charmer.

That’s my boy.

Ivy’s bottom, for all intensive purposes, is looking much better. We extended the cycle to 10 days before the blisters came up. The only drawback with this cycle was three tiny blisters on her bottom lip. I thought it was thrush at first but then they puffed out and filled with fluid. Small but definitely blisters. So we have moved on to a new area, it seems.

Her ears and her chest look and sound great. One grommet out, one still in. It looks as though we will be going through with the adenoidectomy sooner, rather than later and a new set of grommets. Bloods and poo samples have come back normal so far, which is good, except when you are looking for a reason. Except when she has the grossest diarrhoea known to the human race.

The best part? She has put on 1 kilo.

In.

Two.

Weeks!!!!

Lordy, I knew that girl was eating but whoa! Slow down Ivy girl or you’ll be on a calorie controlled diet next…

Anyway.

She performed, she danced, both of the toddlers proclaimed undying love for the paed. She walked on hands and feet, buck naked, red and brown toned bottom stuck high in the air… and then she crashed and the roid rager took over. The paed visibly recoiled (ok, so maybe I embellish but he did notice the difference).

So now?

Now we reduce.

We reduce the pred.

We reduce the antibiotics.

We stop the ear drops.

We start to take chances… again.

Here’s the kicker; I’m scared. For her.

It got me to thinking, with all of the other children, I worried about them when they were little and sick, I still worry when they are acutely unwell. I worry about Noah in that same way but I always know they will be okay. In my heart of hearts, I know.

It’s different with Ivy. Sometimes I am worried about her…existence, her being strong enough to weather all this…no, that’s not right either.

I worry that one day she won’t be here.

It’s a different kind of worry and what’s more is I don’t have that sense that everything will be alright and I think that frightens me more than anything. That confidence that she will be okay is just not there and it shakes me.

I have turned this over in my head tonight. I’ve wondered why. Is it because Ivy and Noah came after William died? If that’s it then why is it just Ivy and not the boy, who looked the spitting image of his brother when he was born?

My mum says that Ivy is a fighter, she is strong to go through prem birth and all the illness and still manages to smile. She is right, of course but still I worry differently for her.

Is it some weird mother sense?

I hope not. I hope it’s just a case of the post traumatic crazies.

Because I knew (all be it subconsciously) that Will would not be here, come toddlerhood.

Until Ivy came storming into the room and smacked Noah square on the head…

“Ge orff, No - No”, she screeched, trying to pull Noah from my lap ”ge orff my bed“!

So, that’s how my daughter sees me.

Enough said.