Going off my Trolley

Shopping trolleys are everywhere - have you noticed?

Of course, the supermarkets have oodles of them - all being pushed along in a big long train by spotty yoofs, refusing to come out of the line singly when you pull on them and randomly taking up car parking spaces.

But they also crop up in other places. Waterways, for example - although I have to say that the NZ trolleys are more water shy than the UK ones. Maybe the water safety messages over here have got through to them (shame you can't say the same for a thick majority of the population). Down alleys. At second-hand shops. More adventurous ones end up in people's garages. The list of places that shopping trolleys end up is endless. I bet there is one on top of Everest.

But did you know there are different types of shopping trolley? Unless you have children you probably don't.

So, for your convenience, a brief run-down of the different seating arrangements offered by your average supermarket trolley; (for purposes of brevity and the fact that I a not a shopping trolley geek I am not venturing into the world of commercial trolleys, DIY store trolleys or any other specialised wheeled consumerable carrying device - if you would like to know more about the shopping trolley industry please click here)

• Those with a little platform for a single baby capsule.
• One baby seat and one toddler seat
• Two baby seats
• One toddler seat
• Two toddler seats

Some types are rarer than others. The single toddler seat version is by far and away the most common.

And the rarest, as in hens teeth rare, seems to be the ones with two toddlers seats.

Which is unfortunate. Because guess what - those are exactly the trolley I need.

Having twins is hard work. Bloody hard work in fact. But if companies such as supermarkets actually put a little effort in, it wouldn't HAVE to be like that ALL the time.

And all they need to do to make my life (and no doubt the lives of mothers -or fathers, let's not be discriminative here - of other sets of twins, or even siblings close in age) immeasurably easier is TO GET MORE DOUBLE SEATER TROLLEYS.

Normally I do my big shops online. But like everyone I have to 'pop-in' for milk and bread which invariably turns into a shop costing more than $100. Unlike everyone else, 'popping-in' takes me AGES. All because of the trolley.

I pull up and park - being careful to try and get a space where I can access both sides of my car even if some twit parks up close (if this is you, yes the little dinks in the side of your car are from my doors.)

And then the hunt begins.

I check the trolley bay by the main door with no success.

I check the little corral of 'baby-friendly' trolleys - no double seaters.

I check round the little bays in the car park - no dice.

I approach the trolley boy - he shakes his head. I start getting bloody cross.

The boys have now sat in the car unattended for more than 10 minutes. I could have done my shopping in this time but if you go in the store and leave your kids in the car, even for 2 minutes, some do-gooder comes in and reports they have been abandoned and tries to give you a lecture when you turn up in response to the public address system.

I approach the customer service desk - please can someone find me a bloody two seater trolley? NO, NOT a two baby seat trolley, a two toddler seat trolley. YES, you do have them, they have red side handles. YES you do, I used one two days ago. OK, I'll be waiting by the blue ute. With my children.

10 minutes later, I return. Well? Oh someone is looking out the back are they? Right then, I have now been trying to find a bloody trolley for nearly half an hour so a member of staff can come and stand by my car while I do my shopping. Oh, here we go, a trolley. PLEASE can I request that you put the double ones in a single place so I can find them? Thank you, that would be great.

Finally, I can 'nip' round the store. Except I can't. Because everyone has to stop and ask me about the boys. But that is a subject for another blog.

Eventually, I get to the check-out, hand over a small fortune in return for a measly amount of goods and return home.

Until next time. Because have they left the double-ones in a single place so I can find them, as promised?

Have they heck.

Sigh. Even the internet has no pictures of a double seater trolley.

Operation Birthday Cakes

So it's first birthday time - my two little wee babies are big boys now. And, of course, there is a requirement to have a party. Not only to celebrate the little darlings' first year on this earth. Or even to catch up with people that we haven't seen since the little darlings arrived on this earth. Oh no. The requirement to have a party is also the vehicle for the ultimate Mummy test - the birthday cake.

Making and decorating a birthday cake is no longer just a matter of making a chocolate sponge, smothering it in chocolate icing, chucking a load of smarties at it and sticking a candle on top (but thanks Mum). Now you have to produce anything from a cutesy Mickey Mouse to a  scale replica of a Massey Ferguson tractor, depending on the whim of the little birthday boy or girl in question, to prove your ability as a worthy Mum.

But after creating a My Little Pony stable for Paige that took me more than 5 hours and still gives me nightmares I reckon I have earned sufficient worthy Mummy credits and so I have decided that keeping things simple is my modus operandi for birthday cakes from now on.

And with that in mind a straight-forward rocket ship was chosen for the boys. This was after the internal debate of one or two cakes, of course, which ended in a decision to make two. Mostly based on the reasoning that you can never have enough cake rather than the neccessity to treat the boys as individuals.

And so Operation Birthday Cakes began.........

Friday 9.35 pm: Make first cake....

Friday 9.50pm: All going to plan. Make second cake.......

 

Oh FFS

Saturday am: Go to shops.

Saturday: 3.15pm Make second cake... draft in helper.....

Paige enjoying her wages!

Sunday 10.31am: Day of party so no room for disaster - let the decorating begin..

 

Oh FFS - wanted a midnight blue colour

Did three times the quantity of butter icing in the recipe - I hope its enough to cover one chocolate and one vanilla cake.

Oh FFS - anyone need a huge amount of greyish mauve butter icing that is surplus to requirements?

Sunday 11.35: Check on the kids

Telly on. All good.

Oh FFS -  Forgot to get second cake board. Cover chopping board with silver foil.

Make template.

 Oh FFS. Make second template

 Looking good.... I'll just tilt the board so the coloured sugar on it slides off......

Oh FFS.

Much judicous use of coloured sugar, fudge flavoured writing icing and swear words later.  Much later.

Sunday 12:25pm Taa - daaaaa!!!

Mummy worthiness proved!!!!!!

Sunday 4.20pm: Happy birthday to yooooooooooou!!!

 

Thank god that's over for another year.

Our First Annus Twinnus

WARNING: This edition of Oh FFS may veer dangerously into the the territory of counting your blessings and may even become heart-warming. I am aware that I promised this would never be the case. So I lied. Sue me.

Bump at 30 weeks.

This time last year I was as big as a whale and just as mobile. I couldn't put my shoes on, turn over in bed, or wipe my bottom easily. I spent much of my time crying my eyes out to my poor long suffering husband about how much I wanted these babies out. I would then cry my eyes out about how the hell we were going to cope when they did come out. More crying would ensue in relation to the subjects of how were we going manage financially, how was poor Paige going to manage, would I be able to love both of them the same, would I be able to love them as much as Paige and the fact we had run out of ice cream.

TBH, I was crying so much that I am extremely surprised at the level of fluid retention I achieved - you wouldn't have thought there was that much water left in my body.

And then, suddenly, my kidneys started to fail, I was admitted to hospital and Cameron and Connor were yanked out. And so began a year that has been on one hand a complete nightmare and on the other not as bad as we thought it was going to be! 

Cameron

That first week after their birth was awful. I was still very ill. I wasn't coping with the fact that my babies were in the neonatal unit. And I was still having to get up three times a night to pee.

Connor

But then I changed my attitude to one of acceptance. OK, life was going to be shitty for a while. For bloody ages in fact. Deal with it. So I did.

The rest of the year can be summed up thus.......

Three months of sleep deprivation.
A two-week visit from my mother.
Nick starts suffering from debilitating headaches.
Trip in ambulance and three day hospital stay for me

What they found in my gallbladder

Gall bladder operation for me
10 days surgery recovery for me (while looking after two baby boys)
Nick's golf handicap going out
Ambulance call for Paige
Three hours on a bank holiday at medical centre with Paige
Lots of screaming and stitches for Paige
Me sick and in bed.
Discovery that two seater trolleys at supermarkets are a very rare thing.
Nick sick and in bed ( although there wasn't actually much wrong with him if you ask me)
Paige sick and sent to school. Repeatedly.
Paige getting sicker, not eating and losing weight.
Me sick. Getting sicker. Not eating. Not losing weight. Diagnosed with giardia
Boys diagnosed with giardia
Financial ruin from purchase of bulk lots of nappies, wipes, formula and baby food.

But you know, when I look back it doesn't seem that bad. Yes, all that bad crap happened to us. But there were some good things too....

Mum left.
Nick got good medication
I got good medication
Boys got good medication
Paige didn't get any medication but recovered anyway

And through it all, the one thing we thought was going to be the complete nightmare but actually turned out to be one of the best things ever - the boys. Our beautiful, beautiful boys.

Cameron (left) and Connor

Two little people that I love more than I thought possible. Two little people who make me laugh every single day. Two little people that have made our family somewhat larger than we planned but somehow just the right size. And two little people who are growing up so fast.

It is their birthday on Monday. They are one whole year old. And if this first year is an indication of what future years are going to be like then bring it on, I say, bring it on. Except not the giardia if you don't mind.

Power Hungry Husbands

My husband has turned into a power hungry beast. He prowls the hallway of our home, checking each and every room, looking for any opportunity to make us bend to his will. We are trying very very hard to stand up to him (Paige is especially making a valiant effort) but his determination and single-mindedness knows no bounds.

And what has caused this transformation from the mild-mannered man who knew his place in the household to obsessive maniac?

The Nova power bill.

Nick - a power-crazed beast.

Normally when a bill of any description arrives at our cash-strapped homestead it is greeted with a cry of 'Oh God' from hubby before it is taken off to the computer corner where he frantically opens his various financial spread sheets, budget projections and online ledgers and starts twiddling numbers around faster than that brainy chap Russell Crowe played in that film about maths. The twiddling grows ever more frantic before suddenly, it stops. There is nothing more he can do. And then he emerges, head hung, shoulders slumped and intones "We're doomed".

The same routine is followed regardless of the amount, timing of arrival or what the bill is for. Until the Nova bill.

It looked innocuous enough when Paige retrieved it from the mailbox. Nothing indicated the horrors inside on the bright and cheery orange and white envelope. It sat innocently on the kitchen top all day waiting for the Financial Controller to return from work.

But when it was opened all hell broke loose. Yes, it was a bit more than usual. Quite a lot more than usual, in fact. Almost double, if you really want to know.

Frantic checking of meter readings, Nova's calculations and the helpful 'usage' chart all came to nothing. The bill was not estimated, miscalculated or intended for a different household. We had to pay it. All of it. We then realised that it was for a 7 week period over an extreme cold snap making it actually, if not reasonable, then understandable. But the damage was done. Nick decided that the power usage in our house is mostly wasteful and has launched a crusade to make us mend our ways. He is a power hungry beast.

Now, I am sure everyone has left the odd light on when it wasn't required. And does anyone turn electrical items off at the plug? And everyone has had the odd experience like my friend who went off for the weekend leaving the unadorned towel rail on full blast. She remembered she had forgotton to switch it off and made sure to get into the house before her husband upon their return!

But the power hungry Nick beast is now waiting outside every room when you emerge demanding to know if the light is still on for a reason. Saying that you plan to return inside 10 seconds is not accepted as a reasonable excuse and a lecture is administered. He has also adopted the 'Should Have' argument.

The 'Should Have' argument is based wholly on Nick's assertion that an appliance 'should have' completed its job in the timescale set by him. Where this timescale has come from is anyone's guess but without exception falls considerably short of the actual timescale required.

For example; Nick puts a load of wet laundry into the tumble drier and turns it on. He then returns after a period of time and removes the laundry into the basket. He then leaves the basket on the kitchen table for the laundry fairy to sort out. As it is her week off, I come along to deal with it. But it is still wet.

Me: Did this washing go in the tumbley, love?
Nick: Yes.
Me: But why did you get it out - its not dry?
Nick: It was in there for 20 minutes.
Me: Well, that obviously wasn't long enough. Why didn't you put it on for longer?
Nick: Because it should have been long enough.
Me: But it wasn't. This isn't even halfway dry. It needs much longer. Can you put it back in, please?
Nick: No.
Me: What?
Nick: It should be dry by now, 20 minutes should have been enough.
Me: But it isn't.........

The 'Should Have' argument can also be applied to the gas fire - "It should have warmed up in here by now so we will turn it off." although you can see your breath as plumes of white frost each time you exhale and the kids' teeth drown out the TV with the chattering.

Other power saving edicts are that we no longer turn the TV off with the remote but get up and turn it off at the set, that the computer is not left running 24/7 as usual, that the kettle is only filled with the exact amount of water required and that heaters in the bedrooms are only switched on 5 minutes before the rooms are required and are switched off 10 minutes after getting into bed. Laundry should be dried by any means possible other than the tumble dryer ( bearing in mind that I do at least two loads of washing every day and that in this current season it would take at least a week if not more for anything to dry in the garage) and  the boys bottles are now heated for a maximum of 1 minute in the microwave instead of the required 1 min 30 secs (another victim of the 'Should Have' argument, sorry boys.).

Unfortunately for Nick, his new regime is severely hampered by the fact that he is at work for most of the day and Paige and I tend to forget the rules unless he is there to enforce them.

But the beast will not be put off and the campaign continues. Let's hope the next power bill is for a much reduced amount. I don't think the vein in Nick's forehead could take it if it isn't.

I told you I was ill

As the late great Spike Milligan said, "I told you I was ill"

It seems I have a publicly notifiable disease. Giardia. Or, as Wikipedia hilariously informs me, Beaver Fever. (Due to the fact that American campers enjoying the great outdoors next to streams dammed by beavers are renowed for getting it. Not because I have hot genitals).

Happily, according to the wonderful Dr Finnigan, there are some magic pills which will sort me out in no time. But, not so happily, there is major problem. Like MAJOR, man.

I have a dog show this weekend.

The consumption of alcohol with these drugs will make me very very sick indeed (Dr Finnigan emphasised this very very heavily so I am inclined to believe him).

The consumption of alcohol at dog shows is practically compulsory (not while actually running the dogs, mind you. Although that might improve our performance. Hmmmm).

So the dilemma. Do I leave off taking the drugs until Monday, feel like utter crap all weekend, make very full use of the facilities but be able to consume the traditional bottle of wine or two (or three) with my doggy mates ( assuming I feel like it)? Or do I take the drugs and hopefully feel much much better but become a no go zone for the booze?


Actually, the decision is a lot easier than I thought it would be. During the course of writing this blog I have been to the lav three times and thrown up once. And am now going back to bed for however long it will be until the boys wake up.

Teetotally yours.

Giardia lamblia: You little bastard.