My blog is supposed to be ‘A Place to get my thoughts together’. Sometimes I forget this and remember that people actually read it, and that most of my thoughts are far to boring for people to read about. Maybe I would be better off with a private diary; but I wouldn’t bother to write properly if I didn’t think people might read it.
What the previous passage of gibberish is really trying to say is that I am going to make more posts about even less interesting stuff, to try and make space in my brain for any interesting stuff that might just come my way.
My Girls
Friday, September 29, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Sulphasalazine - a new word for hope!
The Sunday Times September 24, 2006
Drug may heal livers of chronic alcoholics
Sarah-Kate Templeton, Health Correspondent
BRITISH scientists have discovered a drug that could cure liver disease, even in alcoholics who continue drinking.
The medicine, found by a team of doctors and scientists at Newcastle University, could become a potential alternative to liver transplants.
Until now cirrhosis of the liver, caused by alcohol, obesity or the hepatitis C virus, was considered incurable in all but the rarest of cases. The only option for patients in the final stages of liver disease was to wait for a liver transplant. However, because of organ shortages many die while on the waiting list.
Clinical trials of the drug Sulphasalazine are expected to begin in Britain next year. If these prove successful, the drug could be used to treat heavy drinkers, whose plight was recently illustrated by George Best, the former Manchester United footballer who died from liver disease last year.
Sulphasalazine, which already has a licence to treat arthritis and inflammatory bowel disease, acts by preventing scarring from developing on the liver.
Tests carried out in the laboratory and on animals have shown that the medication can even reverse damage already inflicted on the liver.
The drug will initially be given to heavy drinkers who have given up alcohol, but too late for their liver to recover naturally. If this proves successful, the medicine will also be prescribed to alcoholics who continue to drink but show a determination to fight their addiction by reducing their intake.
Professor Christopher Day, who heads Britain’s biggest team of liver specialists at Newcastle University, said: “If you stop a drinker with cirrhosis of the liver from drinking, the cirrhosis will still be there. Even though we remove the cause of the liver scarring, by this stage that is not enough.
“The prospect is that you may be able to continue drinking. If the drug is not too expensive, I may say, of course we have to give these patients advice about drinking, but who are we to say, ‘Just because you are still drinking, we are not going to give you this drug’? I would be of the view that it should be tried in patients who are making an effort.
“I would not give it to someone who continues to drink heavily every day, but if someone had cut down to three pints a night and was really trying, why not give him this drug that might help his liver recover?”
Sulphasalazine may also relieve the ethical dilemmas of distributing scarce donated livers to the most needy and deserving. The decision to give Best a liver transplant was controversial because the late footballer continued drinking. Critics argued that the organ should have been given to someone whose illness was not self-inflicted.
If the drug is not prohibitively expensive, it could be given to all liver disease patients, regardless of whether the damage had been caused by a congenital disorder or years of alcohol abuse.
“This drug is not a finite resource, you are not stealing it from someone else — which is always a worry in public opinion. People are dying on the transplant list,” Day added.
After years of heavy drinking or obesity, so many scars appear on the liver that it can no longer carry out its normal tasks such as storing essential proteins and vitamins while cleaning up toxic substances.
The new use for the drug followed the discovery by Professor Derek Mann, a member of the team at Newcastle University, who identified the cells and proteins that may move the liver disease into reverse.
Mann found that when the liver is injured by a substance such as alcohol, proteins called nuclear factor kappa B encourage particular cells to multiply, which scars the organ. By switching off the nuclear factor kappa B protein, the scarring cells die and stop damaging the liver.
There are 45,000 deaths every year in Europe from cirrhosis of the liver but the number is decreasing.
In Britain, by contrast, where more than 4,000 die every year, the number of deaths from cirrhosis is increasing amid growing concern about the country’s so-called binge-drinking culture.
Doctors report that increasing numbers of young people, including women, are succumbing to liver disease caused by heavy drinking and poor diet.
Between 5% and 10% of people in the UK are unaware of having liver disease, which can be diagnosed by simple blood tests. Help is often sought when the symptoms become severe, which is too late for treatment.
Reseach spend per life lost for liver disease is amongst the lowest for all conditions — only respiratory medicine ranks lower.
Copyright 2006 Times Newspapers Ltd.
This service is provided on Times Newspapers' standard Terms and Conditions . Please read our Privacy Policy . To inquire about a licence to reproduce material from The Times, visit the Syndication website .
Drug may heal livers of chronic alcoholics
Sarah-Kate Templeton, Health Correspondent
BRITISH scientists have discovered a drug that could cure liver disease, even in alcoholics who continue drinking.
The medicine, found by a team of doctors and scientists at Newcastle University, could become a potential alternative to liver transplants.
Until now cirrhosis of the liver, caused by alcohol, obesity or the hepatitis C virus, was considered incurable in all but the rarest of cases. The only option for patients in the final stages of liver disease was to wait for a liver transplant. However, because of organ shortages many die while on the waiting list.
Clinical trials of the drug Sulphasalazine are expected to begin in Britain next year. If these prove successful, the drug could be used to treat heavy drinkers, whose plight was recently illustrated by George Best, the former Manchester United footballer who died from liver disease last year.
Sulphasalazine, which already has a licence to treat arthritis and inflammatory bowel disease, acts by preventing scarring from developing on the liver.
Tests carried out in the laboratory and on animals have shown that the medication can even reverse damage already inflicted on the liver.
The drug will initially be given to heavy drinkers who have given up alcohol, but too late for their liver to recover naturally. If this proves successful, the medicine will also be prescribed to alcoholics who continue to drink but show a determination to fight their addiction by reducing their intake.
Professor Christopher Day, who heads Britain’s biggest team of liver specialists at Newcastle University, said: “If you stop a drinker with cirrhosis of the liver from drinking, the cirrhosis will still be there. Even though we remove the cause of the liver scarring, by this stage that is not enough.
“The prospect is that you may be able to continue drinking. If the drug is not too expensive, I may say, of course we have to give these patients advice about drinking, but who are we to say, ‘Just because you are still drinking, we are not going to give you this drug’? I would be of the view that it should be tried in patients who are making an effort.
“I would not give it to someone who continues to drink heavily every day, but if someone had cut down to three pints a night and was really trying, why not give him this drug that might help his liver recover?”
Sulphasalazine may also relieve the ethical dilemmas of distributing scarce donated livers to the most needy and deserving. The decision to give Best a liver transplant was controversial because the late footballer continued drinking. Critics argued that the organ should have been given to someone whose illness was not self-inflicted.
If the drug is not prohibitively expensive, it could be given to all liver disease patients, regardless of whether the damage had been caused by a congenital disorder or years of alcohol abuse.
“This drug is not a finite resource, you are not stealing it from someone else — which is always a worry in public opinion. People are dying on the transplant list,” Day added.
After years of heavy drinking or obesity, so many scars appear on the liver that it can no longer carry out its normal tasks such as storing essential proteins and vitamins while cleaning up toxic substances.
The new use for the drug followed the discovery by Professor Derek Mann, a member of the team at Newcastle University, who identified the cells and proteins that may move the liver disease into reverse.
Mann found that when the liver is injured by a substance such as alcohol, proteins called nuclear factor kappa B encourage particular cells to multiply, which scars the organ. By switching off the nuclear factor kappa B protein, the scarring cells die and stop damaging the liver.
There are 45,000 deaths every year in Europe from cirrhosis of the liver but the number is decreasing.
In Britain, by contrast, where more than 4,000 die every year, the number of deaths from cirrhosis is increasing amid growing concern about the country’s so-called binge-drinking culture.
Doctors report that increasing numbers of young people, including women, are succumbing to liver disease caused by heavy drinking and poor diet.
Between 5% and 10% of people in the UK are unaware of having liver disease, which can be diagnosed by simple blood tests. Help is often sought when the symptoms become severe, which is too late for treatment.
Reseach spend per life lost for liver disease is amongst the lowest for all conditions — only respiratory medicine ranks lower.
Copyright 2006 Times Newspapers Ltd.
This service is provided on Times Newspapers' standard Terms and Conditions . Please read our Privacy Policy . To inquire about a licence to reproduce material from The Times, visit the Syndication website .
A personal perspective on why bad things happen
I don’t like getting into discussions with people on issues of religion. Faith is such a personal thing that it is all too easy for it to end up in disagreement. However, I do have my own personal philosophy, and I was reminded of it by a recent discussion I read, on the subject of “Does God make bad things happen?”
The idea that God causes his children pain and suffering is not one that sits easy with a lot of people. They cannot reconcile the concept of a loving God with one who allows bad things to happen…wars, people getting ill, marriages breaking down, death….. If we are his children, how can he watch us in such pain? Is he a vengeful God who punishes us for our wrongdoings?
The problem I have with the belief that God does not cause bad things to happen is that it contradicts the belief that he is all-powerful. If God didn’t decide that Hannah would have biliary atresia, then who did, and why didn’t God stop them? Those are questions I cannot answer without disregarding the rest of my faith.
I believe that God has complete control over the universe and everything in it – and beyond. Within that, he has given us free will, which I see as the ability to choose our response to the events in our life over which we have no control.
I believe that God does cause bad things to happen on earth, or at least things we perceive as bad. Just because something causes us sorrow or pain does not make it fundamentally bad. We are viewing God’s actions through the eyes of children, which is why they often seem not to make sense to us or to be unfair. I often make my children unhappy for their own good…not allowing them to eat sweets whenever they like, or making them go to bed when they want to play. Mummy is mean. We would be happy if we could do whatever we liked. But Mummy isn’t mean; she can just see a bigger picture than the children can. The actions that they perceive as being unfair are actually teaching them important concepts that they will need in their adult life. Likewise with God. We are not spiritually mature enough to understand God’s reasoning, so it appears cruel. It is anything but. God’s actions never have any motive but good, and they are teaching us important concepts that we will need for our eternal life in heaven. He is not cruel, he is loving, and he is simply acting as any loving parent would.
It is natural that we get angry with God when things happen which hurt us. He doesn’t mind that; he understands, just as a parent understands why a child is angry when they don’t get their own way. He is there to comfort us, as long as we do not turn away from him. Nobody’s life on earth is without sorrow and pain, no matter how happy they may appear to be. Everyone has their burdens to carry, and everyone also has their blessings.
Whenever I have had difficulty in my life, I have often begun to ask “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” That is the wrong question. Why not me? Am I any more special than Jesus Christ, God’s own son, who suffered during his life on earth? Do I deserve an easier life than he had? Of course not. The suffering of Jesus had a purpose, just like our human suffering has a purpose, however difficult it may be to see at the time.
This doesn’t mean that when I am hurting, I just say “That’s great! I’m preparing myself spiritually for heaven by all this shit happening to me! Hurrah!” I cry, and I shout, and sometimes, like now, I can’t cry because if I did, I don’t think I would stop. I get angry, and resentful….sometimes I let God in, and sometimes I shut him out. Sometimes I feel buoyed up by my blessings, and sometimes I feel weighed down by my burdens. But every day, I know that I have grown, just a little bit – and that helps a lot.
The idea that God causes his children pain and suffering is not one that sits easy with a lot of people. They cannot reconcile the concept of a loving God with one who allows bad things to happen…wars, people getting ill, marriages breaking down, death….. If we are his children, how can he watch us in such pain? Is he a vengeful God who punishes us for our wrongdoings?
The problem I have with the belief that God does not cause bad things to happen is that it contradicts the belief that he is all-powerful. If God didn’t decide that Hannah would have biliary atresia, then who did, and why didn’t God stop them? Those are questions I cannot answer without disregarding the rest of my faith.
I believe that God has complete control over the universe and everything in it – and beyond. Within that, he has given us free will, which I see as the ability to choose our response to the events in our life over which we have no control.
I believe that God does cause bad things to happen on earth, or at least things we perceive as bad. Just because something causes us sorrow or pain does not make it fundamentally bad. We are viewing God’s actions through the eyes of children, which is why they often seem not to make sense to us or to be unfair. I often make my children unhappy for their own good…not allowing them to eat sweets whenever they like, or making them go to bed when they want to play. Mummy is mean. We would be happy if we could do whatever we liked. But Mummy isn’t mean; she can just see a bigger picture than the children can. The actions that they perceive as being unfair are actually teaching them important concepts that they will need in their adult life. Likewise with God. We are not spiritually mature enough to understand God’s reasoning, so it appears cruel. It is anything but. God’s actions never have any motive but good, and they are teaching us important concepts that we will need for our eternal life in heaven. He is not cruel, he is loving, and he is simply acting as any loving parent would.
It is natural that we get angry with God when things happen which hurt us. He doesn’t mind that; he understands, just as a parent understands why a child is angry when they don’t get their own way. He is there to comfort us, as long as we do not turn away from him. Nobody’s life on earth is without sorrow and pain, no matter how happy they may appear to be. Everyone has their burdens to carry, and everyone also has their blessings.
Whenever I have had difficulty in my life, I have often begun to ask “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” That is the wrong question. Why not me? Am I any more special than Jesus Christ, God’s own son, who suffered during his life on earth? Do I deserve an easier life than he had? Of course not. The suffering of Jesus had a purpose, just like our human suffering has a purpose, however difficult it may be to see at the time.
This doesn’t mean that when I am hurting, I just say “That’s great! I’m preparing myself spiritually for heaven by all this shit happening to me! Hurrah!” I cry, and I shout, and sometimes, like now, I can’t cry because if I did, I don’t think I would stop. I get angry, and resentful….sometimes I let God in, and sometimes I shut him out. Sometimes I feel buoyed up by my blessings, and sometimes I feel weighed down by my burdens. But every day, I know that I have grown, just a little bit – and that helps a lot.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Caitlin's first day at school
The information I got was minimal, but I will share it.
* She did sticking (I knew that already (see photos))
* She spilled some counters and had to tidy them up, but she didn't mind because it was great fun
* She didn't have time to drink her juice or eat her raisins at lunchtime.
* She drank lots of water
* She ate three apples (!) at snack time
* She sat next to Megan to eat her lunch
* She didn't want to leave her PE bag there in case it got dirty
On reflection, it's all quite food based! Anyhow, she enjoyed herself, and I didn't feel the need to shed any tears. I'll let the photos do the rest of the talking.
* She did sticking (I knew that already (see photos))
* She spilled some counters and had to tidy them up, but she didn't mind because it was great fun
* She didn't have time to drink her juice or eat her raisins at lunchtime.
* She drank lots of water
* She ate three apples (!) at snack time
* She sat next to Megan to eat her lunch
* She didn't want to leave her PE bag there in case it got dirty
On reflection, it's all quite food based! Anyhow, she enjoyed herself, and I didn't feel the need to shed any tears. I'll let the photos do the rest of the talking.
Friday, September 15, 2006
The Park
After reaching near insanity earlier this week after 8 weeks of summer holiday, the last two days I have done nothing bar the washing up and just gone with it. Yesterday I was hoping to take the girls to the park, but it was very wet, so I decided to go for the soft play area instead.
As we missed out on the park yesterday, we made the most of the fine weather today and set off at 10 am for the swings and slides at Whitley Common. After exhausting the possibilities there, and feeling that the girls were nowhere near as worn out as I wanted them to be, we then headed for the War Memorial Park, where two sessions on the swings and slides, with a break for lunch in between (hot dogs for us all, ice cream and crisps for the girls, and a cappuccino for me), did the trick.
Something set my mind to thinking about the park when I was a little girl, and how different the play area is now. Now, within an area of enclosed fencing, is a bark floored, safe as humanly possible, array of equipment where no child is ever more than 6 ft from the floor. There are no roundabouts (far too lethal – it wouldn’t surprise me if they we actually illegal, as I haven’t seen one for years) and see-saws have springs to prevent too much seeing and sawing. The child in me mourns the loss of the slides they used to have. The smaller one must have been about 10ft, the larger around 16. They were steep, and they were narrow, and they were very slidy and shiny. Fantastic. Of course the surface they were mounted on was good ol’ concrete, and the mum in me is heartily relieved that they are gone.
The two sky blue paddling pools that were there when I was little are gone as well. They were filled in a number of years ago, and I can’t even remember why…not safe enough, not healthy enough, too expensive to maintain, something like that. A couple of years ago, they opened a ‘splash n play’ area, which is totally cool. There are all sorts of fountains and jets of water…just ace, as I would have said when I was eight! After an unfortunate incident just after it first opened, when a number of children got a tummy bug after using it, they have spent a ton of money and installed the most fantastic filtration systems ever, apparently, and it opened properly last summer, to great acclaim from Caitlin. She has been in it every time we have been there and it has been open, whatever the weather. Hannah also enjoys it, although doesn’t actually go in the fountains; she prefers to run around the outside of them and splash in the puddles. It is less fun for me to stand in there and try to avoid getting wet, so from my point of view it was fortunate that it was closed today as the school holidays are over.
Walking back to the car, I showed the girls the stones under the trees. Every tree in the park has a memorial stone at its foot, commemorating local servicemen who have died, particularly those who were killed in action during the two world wars. Caitlin ran from one to another, eager to know what each one said, reminding me so much of myself at her age. As a child I probably read every memorial in the park. I think it is important that children start to learn about things like the tragedy of war, particularly living in a city which had its heart ripped out by war.
Visiting the park brings back other memories too, because it has been part of my life for ever. Some of the memories are among my most vivid. In 1987, Coventry City FC won the FA Cup, and that year took part in the carnival procession, holding the cup aloft in an open top double decker bus. Standing on the roadside at the edge of the park, as the bus approached, my Dad nudged me and said, “There it is kid! The FA Cup!” His face was shining with pride and joy.
The park was also a place to hang out when I was a teenager. The last day of compulsory school, our whole year walked there en masse at the end of school, and proceeded to consume just one or two alcoholic beverages. I ‘missed’ one or two A-Level Physics lessons to go and play pitch and putt very badly. I sat there in silence with my first real boyfriend, in the pitch black late one evening, just enjoying being together and being quiet. I played tennis with one of my schoolfriends, with ancient wooden rackets with missing strings. We agreed to give up when we made a five shot volley, but never made it past three.
Among my favourites is a memory that I knew at the time I would always remember. I was about twelve, and at the park with my sisters and their children. I was running and carrying my niece Emma, who was a toddler (she is almost twenty now and engaged to a soldier!) She was just giggling in that way that small children and babies do when something is just the most fun thing they have done in their life so far. She got heavy, but I wanted to keep running and to hear that giggle. I ran as far as I could, until I ran out of breath, just to hear that sound of complete and utter joy.
When I see the same joy on Caitlin’s face when she runs in and out of the water fountains, despite the chilly weather, I remember exactly why the park is just the best place in the world to go.
As we missed out on the park yesterday, we made the most of the fine weather today and set off at 10 am for the swings and slides at Whitley Common. After exhausting the possibilities there, and feeling that the girls were nowhere near as worn out as I wanted them to be, we then headed for the War Memorial Park, where two sessions on the swings and slides, with a break for lunch in between (hot dogs for us all, ice cream and crisps for the girls, and a cappuccino for me), did the trick.
Something set my mind to thinking about the park when I was a little girl, and how different the play area is now. Now, within an area of enclosed fencing, is a bark floored, safe as humanly possible, array of equipment where no child is ever more than 6 ft from the floor. There are no roundabouts (far too lethal – it wouldn’t surprise me if they we actually illegal, as I haven’t seen one for years) and see-saws have springs to prevent too much seeing and sawing. The child in me mourns the loss of the slides they used to have. The smaller one must have been about 10ft, the larger around 16. They were steep, and they were narrow, and they were very slidy and shiny. Fantastic. Of course the surface they were mounted on was good ol’ concrete, and the mum in me is heartily relieved that they are gone.
The two sky blue paddling pools that were there when I was little are gone as well. They were filled in a number of years ago, and I can’t even remember why…not safe enough, not healthy enough, too expensive to maintain, something like that. A couple of years ago, they opened a ‘splash n play’ area, which is totally cool. There are all sorts of fountains and jets of water…just ace, as I would have said when I was eight! After an unfortunate incident just after it first opened, when a number of children got a tummy bug after using it, they have spent a ton of money and installed the most fantastic filtration systems ever, apparently, and it opened properly last summer, to great acclaim from Caitlin. She has been in it every time we have been there and it has been open, whatever the weather. Hannah also enjoys it, although doesn’t actually go in the fountains; she prefers to run around the outside of them and splash in the puddles. It is less fun for me to stand in there and try to avoid getting wet, so from my point of view it was fortunate that it was closed today as the school holidays are over.
Walking back to the car, I showed the girls the stones under the trees. Every tree in the park has a memorial stone at its foot, commemorating local servicemen who have died, particularly those who were killed in action during the two world wars. Caitlin ran from one to another, eager to know what each one said, reminding me so much of myself at her age. As a child I probably read every memorial in the park. I think it is important that children start to learn about things like the tragedy of war, particularly living in a city which had its heart ripped out by war.
Visiting the park brings back other memories too, because it has been part of my life for ever. Some of the memories are among my most vivid. In 1987, Coventry City FC won the FA Cup, and that year took part in the carnival procession, holding the cup aloft in an open top double decker bus. Standing on the roadside at the edge of the park, as the bus approached, my Dad nudged me and said, “There it is kid! The FA Cup!” His face was shining with pride and joy.
The park was also a place to hang out when I was a teenager. The last day of compulsory school, our whole year walked there en masse at the end of school, and proceeded to consume just one or two alcoholic beverages. I ‘missed’ one or two A-Level Physics lessons to go and play pitch and putt very badly. I sat there in silence with my first real boyfriend, in the pitch black late one evening, just enjoying being together and being quiet. I played tennis with one of my schoolfriends, with ancient wooden rackets with missing strings. We agreed to give up when we made a five shot volley, but never made it past three.
Among my favourites is a memory that I knew at the time I would always remember. I was about twelve, and at the park with my sisters and their children. I was running and carrying my niece Emma, who was a toddler (she is almost twenty now and engaged to a soldier!) She was just giggling in that way that small children and babies do when something is just the most fun thing they have done in their life so far. She got heavy, but I wanted to keep running and to hear that giggle. I ran as far as I could, until I ran out of breath, just to hear that sound of complete and utter joy.
When I see the same joy on Caitlin’s face when she runs in and out of the water fountains, despite the chilly weather, I remember exactly why the park is just the best place in the world to go.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Flowers
These are real flowers that are actually growing in my garden at the moment which I haven't killed yet, so I thought I would make the most of it!
Friday, September 01, 2006
Confessions of a Bad Mother
Is the title of a book I am currently reading, by Stephanie Calman. The title page has an image of a dummy, positioned like a cocktail cherry on the rim of the glass. That was enough for me to know that I empathise with this woman in some way. The back cover asks “Do you give your children chicken nuggets for supper, herd them into bed and slump down exhausted with a drink?” Yes (and Hannah doesn’t even like them), yes, and YES.
Yersterday is a typical example. I refuse to allow the girls downstairs until I have come round via a coffee. I manage to organise breakfast (Weetabix for Caitlin, so some merit there, but Hannah has Honey Nut Cheerios without milk for about the 10th day in a row. Naturally, by this point they are watching a Scooby Doo video. I then lie down on the sofa for an hour with a splitting headache while the girls systematically destroy the living room and climb on top of me. In the meantime, Scooby Doo finishes, and they switch off the TV and eject the video cassette.
I manage to return to the planet by second coffee and two paracetamol (extra! With more caffeine) during which time the girls eat four rice cakes and two breadsticks each. They leave me alone when they are eating……
I am determined to get through my task list for the week, and so we set off to town in search of new shoes for Hannah (at least a month overdue – her feet are probably deformed already) and more school uniform for Caitlin. Of course, if I were a Good Mother, I would have packed a coolbag with a nutritious lunch and drinks just like I did when we went to the park yesterday with people we know and who might pass judgement on what I feed my children. Not being a Good Mother, we were equipped with two spare nappies and a packet of baby wipes, which actually I didn’t even use. The children finally received some food at 1:30 (at least an hour past normal lunchtime) in the form of a sausage roll from Greggs. The fact that the sausage rolls were initially too hot to eat was the cause of much weeping and trauma. I will also point out that Caitlin not only recognises the Greggs logo, but also calls it “the sausage roll shop”. Enough said.
I am then reminded that nothing is simple when you are a mother (maybe Good Mothers can manage these things), not even buying socks. We find a pack of 5 completely plain and boring white ankle socks for £5. About to buy them (actually Caitlin has stashed them under the pushchair - good job I noticed) when I spot 7 pairs with a nice scalloped edge and pretty butterfly design for the same price! Hurrah....but no. Caitlin wants the other ones. Tears. "I want THOSE". Hissed, through gritted teeth; "This is MY MONEY. I WILL DECIDE WHICH SOCKS." Now Caitlin needs the toilet. The queue is huge. We go down in the lift to the other cash desk. Queue even huger (sales are on). Fortunately this particular part has a happy ending, as Caitlin managed to hold on till we had paid, and I spotted a lovely pair of navy stretchy jeans for £15 while queuing.
After another hour’s shopping, I finally acquiesce to their demands for a drink….a carton of apple Ribena. A small triumph ensues when I manage to persuade Caitlin that the Ice Cream Van Ride (SAFE, and costing me 50p for two rides for both children) was much more exciting than the sort of infant rollercoaster thing that is £1 each and would have left me with the equally scary prospects of allowing Hannah to go on it versus the tantrum I would be faced with if Caitlin went on it alone.
You might have thought that I would have made an effort once we got home, but no, I was too traumatised by four hours of the back to school uniform frenzy – including an hour in Clarks - to provide anything better than Marmite on toast as the main course (OK, they did have some cheese, salad, fruit and fromage frais).
Well, my children don’t seem to be suffering overly from being inflicted with a Bad Mother….and at least I’m not the only one…..
Yersterday is a typical example. I refuse to allow the girls downstairs until I have come round via a coffee. I manage to organise breakfast (Weetabix for Caitlin, so some merit there, but Hannah has Honey Nut Cheerios without milk for about the 10th day in a row. Naturally, by this point they are watching a Scooby Doo video. I then lie down on the sofa for an hour with a splitting headache while the girls systematically destroy the living room and climb on top of me. In the meantime, Scooby Doo finishes, and they switch off the TV and eject the video cassette.
I manage to return to the planet by second coffee and two paracetamol (extra! With more caffeine) during which time the girls eat four rice cakes and two breadsticks each. They leave me alone when they are eating……
I am determined to get through my task list for the week, and so we set off to town in search of new shoes for Hannah (at least a month overdue – her feet are probably deformed already) and more school uniform for Caitlin. Of course, if I were a Good Mother, I would have packed a coolbag with a nutritious lunch and drinks just like I did when we went to the park yesterday with people we know and who might pass judgement on what I feed my children. Not being a Good Mother, we were equipped with two spare nappies and a packet of baby wipes, which actually I didn’t even use. The children finally received some food at 1:30 (at least an hour past normal lunchtime) in the form of a sausage roll from Greggs. The fact that the sausage rolls were initially too hot to eat was the cause of much weeping and trauma. I will also point out that Caitlin not only recognises the Greggs logo, but also calls it “the sausage roll shop”. Enough said.
I am then reminded that nothing is simple when you are a mother (maybe Good Mothers can manage these things), not even buying socks. We find a pack of 5 completely plain and boring white ankle socks for £5. About to buy them (actually Caitlin has stashed them under the pushchair - good job I noticed) when I spot 7 pairs with a nice scalloped edge and pretty butterfly design for the same price! Hurrah....but no. Caitlin wants the other ones. Tears. "I want THOSE". Hissed, through gritted teeth; "This is MY MONEY. I WILL DECIDE WHICH SOCKS." Now Caitlin needs the toilet. The queue is huge. We go down in the lift to the other cash desk. Queue even huger (sales are on). Fortunately this particular part has a happy ending, as Caitlin managed to hold on till we had paid, and I spotted a lovely pair of navy stretchy jeans for £15 while queuing.
After another hour’s shopping, I finally acquiesce to their demands for a drink….a carton of apple Ribena. A small triumph ensues when I manage to persuade Caitlin that the Ice Cream Van Ride (SAFE, and costing me 50p for two rides for both children) was much more exciting than the sort of infant rollercoaster thing that is £1 each and would have left me with the equally scary prospects of allowing Hannah to go on it versus the tantrum I would be faced with if Caitlin went on it alone.
You might have thought that I would have made an effort once we got home, but no, I was too traumatised by four hours of the back to school uniform frenzy – including an hour in Clarks - to provide anything better than Marmite on toast as the main course (OK, they did have some cheese, salad, fruit and fromage frais).
Well, my children don’t seem to be suffering overly from being inflicted with a Bad Mother….and at least I’m not the only one…..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
