Nurse Mummy

Before I had kids, I never realised how much medical intervention was involved in Mothering. The closest I've ever come to any kind of medical training was a Health lesson on "Doing CPR" in High School.

Since becoming a mother I couldn't tell you how many times I have had to assess injuries, administer First Aid and care for the sick and (purportedly) dying.

I have become an expert at scraping vomit off carpet and wiping fevered brows.

Feel like you want to puke again? Quick grab the icecream container; I'll hold your hair back. A cut lip gushing blood? No probs. Wet a clean flannel and suck on it (that'll stop the bleeding in no time). Stubbed toes crusted with dried blood, grit and debris? A job for the Dettol and a plaster.

We mummies know that there's almost nothing a plaster and a sweetie can't cure. And a bandage? Even better.
How many times have you stuck a huge bandage on a tiny scratch because it makes the wounded soldier feel soooo much better? (Oh OK, only me then?)

How many times have you had to hold down a wriggling screaming toddler long enough to take their temperature (Hold the thermometer under their armpit, with their arm pinned firmly to their side)??? Only to then have to fight them tooth and nail to get 10mls of sticky Pamol down their gob without them spitting it out and spraying it across everything in sight?

How many times has hubby opted to sleep in a sick kid's bed so you can share yours with the Vomiter/Feverish One? (or is that just us?)

I don't know about you but our medical box holds things I had never even heard of before becoming a mother. Arnica. Hydrocortisone. Phenergan. Dimetapp. Robicomb.

Bandages in all shapes and sizes. Dettol disinfectant and antiseptic cream and antibacterial hand gel.

I've had to deal with broken arms and toes, jammed fingers & banged up ankles; stitches and spelks and fevers and compylobacter, phlegm and snot and vomit and poo. All things which would have made me heave as a single gal.

How many times as a young mother did I take my baby to the Starship Childrens Hospital in the middle of the night? Countless. I was so paranoid that every fever and rash could be meningitis or pneumonia or ebola. But it was always Something Viral. All they ever gave us was Paracetomol - and we were sometimes waiting there for 4 hours before they dispensed this wisdom. I should have stayed home and let the kid have a decent night's sleep.

Dash must have been rushed to Starship at midnight at least six times.
Miss Fab (A.K.A. Princess)... maybe twice, but to Mercy Private Hospital (what's 20 bucks for a mere 20 minute wait in the middle of the night?)
Scrag??? Never. He has so far never been rushed anywhere in the middle of the night.

I am an accomplished mother of three. I have an organised well-stocked medicine box. I know how to take the temperature of a wriggling toddler and sneak that Paracetomol down his gob. I know how to bandage scratches and bumps so they look really impressive. I'm good at cuddles and wiping tears and snot and holding vomit bowls.
By now I can tell when my medical skills are enough and when I need to call the Ambulance.
So far so good.


P.S. My medical skills have been great demand this week. There's been plenty of puke flying, toes being stubbed and lips being gashed. Even a bee sting. Thank goodness I have a really great medicine box. xx

Twas the Night Before School Starts...

Twas the Night Before school starts and all through the house

not a creature was sleeping, not even a mouse

The children were playing on big brother's bed

While visions of mischief still danced in their heads

School bags sit waiting, filled with brand new books

Hours and hours (to cover them) it took

Uniforms hung on coathangers with care

in the knowledge that Morning soon will be here

On Scraggy! On Princess! On Dash! Off to bed!

Put on your Pajamas, Clean your teeth, I said!

Quit playing and reading and laughing you lot!

Off the bunk, to the loo, to your bed and your cot!

Mayhem erupts as the children all scatter

Dad watches the Sport, he thinks nothing's the matter!

Finally finally they're all in their beds

Can I finally get to rest my weary head???

Nope. Still got more bleedin' books to cover. *sigh*

Tin Can Alley

It's a wet morning and a Public Holiday. The uninspiring rain drips down keeping us indoors. The troops are bored and restless.

Dash vows to stay in bed all day and compose football tables.

Miss Fab (a.k.a. Princess) galantly plays with Scrag and his toy cars... but soon complaints erupt from all quarters and kids descend on us begging for some fun.

We parents are still lurking in our PJ's but Mr G is up for anything. "Hide and Seek!!!" he shouts. "Quick, hide, I'll count! 1...2...3... You too mummy!!"

We scatter and hide. Scrag joins in. We giggle, we're found.

Eventually we need a new game.

"I know just the thing!" exclaims Mr G.

Tin Can Alley.

It's a game Mr G played in the streets as a kid growing up in Newcastle. All the kids in his neighbourhood would join in and have a great ole time. The game can be played big and wild outdoors with lots of kids. Or small and gentler with your littlies in the hallway on a rainy day. Here's how it goes:

Props
An empty (clean) tin can; 6 popsicle sticks (licked clean)
A tennis ball (for rolling); A lightweight ball (for throwing)
Two teams (even the toddler can play)
An Out Zone (e.g. the lounge couch)

Set up the tin can in the middle of the hallway with the six sticks arranged on top.

Teams take turns rolling the ball to try and knock over the can.

As soon as the can is knocked over two things happen:

• The team that knocked over the can (T1) must try to avoid being hit by the ball while attempting to arrange all six sticks on top of the can.
• The other team (T2) must try to hit T1 members with the ball, sending them to the Out Zone.

T1 can rescue members from the Out Zone by giving them a High Five to release them.

T2 cannot run with the ball: they must pass it to each other. If they manage to hit all T1 members before T1 gets the sticks reassembled on the can, T2 is the Winner.

If T1 gets the sticks assembled on the can before all their members are caught then T1 is the Winner.

.............................................................

This is so much fun, trust me. We played Girls against Boys (me and Miss Fab vs. Mr G & Dash; Scrag was an honorary member of the Boys Team).

We won the first game, the boys won the next two. Even Scrag joined in (his attempts to hit the can had us all in stitches).

After we had run out of steam chasing each other all over the house, we sat down for a nice cup of tea and some Banana & Chocolate Chip Muffins I had whipped up earlier (oh yes, very occasionally I bake, but it's so rare that I nearly always write about it on my blog. So you see. Really Not that Often.)
Click here for my super easy super yummy recipe.

OK, so now you know what to do next time you're stuck inside on a rainy weekend with a bunch of bored kids: serve them up some Baked Beans and then play Tin Can Alley with the empty can :)

Calm

Thankyou so much everyone who left me messages and who also prayed for me over the last day or so. You'll be glad to know I am feeling so much better, and I'm sure that a lot of it has to do with your prayers.

I wrote that post about the Black Dog, because I have never tried to put it into words how I feel while I am in that state... and I really needed those close to me to understand. I wrote it first in Word, just to let it out.
Then I decided to post it here.

From so many messages and emails I know I'm not alone in this battle... there are so many of us who have faced down the Black Dog.

I think the thing that scares me the most is what that mongrel may do to my family, what scars he may leave.

I thought a lot about Cat's comment: What would happen if you stopped running? I guess feeling of "running" is a sense of panic because everything around me seems to jar my senses, causing me to scream in pain and anger. Stillness is the antidote... a hard commodity to find in a house full of boisterous children.

On the practical side, I had run out of medication a couple of days earlier, and was seemingly fine... until Friday afternoon when all of a sudden I was Not Fine. I managed to call my doctor and get an emergency prescription faxed through to my pharmacy before the Long Weekend.

By last night I was calmer, after a quiet day.
Mr G was very supportive and seemed to understand better what was happening after reading my post. This morning I put on some Music, the kind that is like Soul Medicine. It soothed me further and I felt my heart lift and knew that the black thing was behind me.

I was thinking what I should have done in the moment was call in The Dog Whisperer. I called my mum... I should have called Jesus first.
I should have put on that Music sooner. Maybe I could have painted. I was alone in the house with the kids and Mr G was still at work with his phone off and I felt all alone with that mongrel.
But Thankyou, my friends who called out for me. Thanks for shouting at the Black Dog on my behalf.

That Mutt is safely locked away again.
x

The Songs that Soothed Me...

From My Redeemer Lives by Nicole C Mullins

The very same God that spins things in orbit

Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak

And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken

They conquered death to bring me victory
Now I know, my Redeemer lives

I know my Redeemer lives

Let all creation testify

Let this life within me cry

I know My Redeemer lives...

Carry Me Away by JuliaGrace

i climb a mountain with no summit

i race without a finish line

test the depths of endless water

live out the sentence that is mine

i'm the waterfall that's burst and now we're drowning

i'm the heart that learnt to beat just as it broke

i'm the voice that's frozen into silence

i'm the song that my spirit never wrote

carry me away, carry me away

i know much more than I am feeling

i win more battles than i lose

i'm taller now than when i suffered

i've gained ability to choose

i'm the child that will not leave the hand that holds me

i'm the heart that learns to beat in time with truth

i'm the complicated picture of humanity

i'm the spirit that is full of you

and if i stay here, will you comfort me

if the tears fall down, will you rescue me

carry me away, carry me away

to a dream that was almost fading

carry me away, carry me away

i know you, you're strong enough to save me

Top Photo & Paintings from my Visual Journal

Other Photos from GoogleImages

Downhill with a Black Dog Chasing

The black dog has found me again.
I thought he was safely locked away but I left a gate open and he escaped.
I am running, breathless and terrified with him nipping at my heels.
I am screaming but there’s no sound. No one hears, no one sees.
I am trapped inside my head with this ferocious black dog.

Thoughts pile up blocking my way, like cars in a traffic jam, each one shouting for attention…
“Why didn’t you renew your prescription on time?”
“You are a terrible mother person wife!”
“Your family husband children deserve better!”
"Lazy useless hopeless helpless!"


Peace Peace Peace! Quiet Quiet Quiet! Just leave me alone!

Arms and legs weighed down, everything is heavy. Breathing in and out just seems too hard. I am moving through cement, and the black dog is gaining. I long to stop running, retreat under the covers, bury my head, stay there til he's gone. Hide me from those angry thoughts. Hide me from that snapping black dog.

He always sneaks up on me. There is no warning. One moment I can be normal happy fine. Then the black dog comes crashing in, snarling and threatening to overwhelm me.

Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

That’s all I want.

A Garden Tea Party

Miss Fab (a.k.a. Princess) had her first friend over for a sleepover last night... the lovely Miss O (Gail's gorgeous daughter).

We managed to ship big brother Dash off to a friend so the girls had a lovely time together, even wearing matching nighties (so sweet).

Come morning they were having such a marvellous time, I phoned Gail and begged for Miss O to stick around a little longer... long enough for a Garden Tea Party, at least.

By then Dash was back, so while they built tents and played mums and dads in his bedroom, I set up the front garden with a special little spread.

...a mosquito net hanging in the lilac tree; a picnic rug spread out, with cushions piled up

...a little table spread with white cloth & roses in a glass; juice in a teapot, and special china cups

...pretty cake stand holding watermelon, apricots, marshmallows, mini ham sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries.

When it was all ready I told the kids to get "dressed up nice" for their special tea party... never mind that I was still in my spunky PJ's and Scrag had a pooey bum!

Oh so picturesque, picnicing graciously under my favourite lilac tree.

Oh so genteel and tranquil (in spite of Scrag dipping his grimy fingers in the teapot).

The sun was shining. But storm clouds were gathering. As Dash hosted Miss O in a gentlemanlike fashion, pouring her juice, conversing wittily... Miss Fab got quieter and quieter.

I should have seen it coming. It was the old green-eyed monster raising it's head. Ever since a year ago, when a little girl preferred Dash over his sister, she has been ultra-sensitive about her friends playing with her brother. It sends her into a jealous spin. She comes out with statements like: "I just know what's going to happen! She'll fall in love with him and she won't be my friend any more!" I know. She's five. It's too scary.

So when she finally ran sobbing into the house and buried her head in the couch I quickly figured out what was going on. After much persuasion I wrangled her back outside. By now we had put music on and there was Garden Dancing as well. The sight of Miss O waltzing twirling spinning with Dash only added fuel to the fire.

"Ask your sister to dance!" I whispered urgently to Dash. Bless him, he did. He held out his hand to her, but she ignored him and buried her head - sadly he was not persistent enough and went back to dancing with Miss O (much more fun than begging your sulky sister to dance, aye??)

I was torn between empathy and frustration... we were having such a nice time and Miss Fab was ruining it with her oversensitivity!!

Sitting down on the (freshly painted) garden bench, I pulled her onto my lap, and called Miss O over. I explained to Miss O why her friend was acting that way: she gets a bit sensitive when her friends play with her brother, because she thinks it means they won't want to play with her anymore...

Miss O, bless her, put her arm around my sad little girl and said the magic words: "But Abby, I will always be your friend!"

That did the trick. They hugged, clouds scattered, sun came out and off they went dancing and twirling together on the lawn.