Happy New Year

At this rate I’ll forget my WordPress password.

You last saw me standing on the ledge with my tattered anonymity clutched tight to my bosom, muttering hopefully about Having Time To Blog over Christmas.

I never learn.

To be scrupulously honest, I did have a reasonably unprecented amount of time to myself, but solely because I was obliged to spend it in a variety of assorted huddled heaps, swallowing as many opiates as I could lay my hands on. Cleverly, I had asked my GP for a course of progesterone to knock my interminably lengthy and tiresome on/off period on the head over Christmas; I took a grand total of two, completely forgot about the rest and voila! festive-red tsunami.

Judging by the fact that I was finally reduced to raiding the hoarded co-codamol and codeine prescribed after one or other of my miscarriages – the packets expired August 07 – I think this has been the worst pain that the deadly duo comprising my reproductive system have ever battered me with; apart from the times the pair of them have expelled, you know, actual human beings.

Christmas was… nice, in between the groaning. Harry has enjoyed the whole festive thing mightily, despite having had a hacking, vomit-inducing cough since November and looking like this

Injury by hairyfarmerfamily.

after one of his nursery Christmas parties. No matter how many times I pin people to the wall and minutely extole Harry’s spectacularly accident-prone propensities, everyone always looks surprised when they scrape him up pouring with blood. Harry wasn’t impressed with his visit to A & E; he resisted having his – deep – cut glued or stitched with admirable ferocity and had to make do with steri-strips doing a half-arsed job. Consequently, I think he’s now acquired his first life-long scar. Yippee.

What with that AND the latest lop-sided haircut I’ve given him in his sleep (scissors are hysterical item non-grata as far as he is concerned): Barnardos’d snatch him up for their next ad campaign like a shot.

Still, he had other Christmas parties to go to. I took him to one where he ran about so much and so happily that he inevitably began to cough – before vomiting copiously all over another child’s ride-on car. The shame was awful, despite the child’s poor mother heroically putting the revolting, dripping ride-on in the boot of her car and breezily assuring me that it’d hose off fine. I took him home in his vest and soaking trousers, lining the car seat – inadequately, as it turned out – with borrowed plastic bags. A quick sponge-bath for the pair of us, a change of clothes, and we were back at the village hall so that Harry could have the party tea he had been loudly mortified at leaving behind. He chewed everything, swallowed very little – and then promptly coughed again and deposited what he had eaten in the doorway.

At this point, he was down to his vest with vomit thickly populating his hair and we were running out of cleaning and swabbing materials to borrow, but he had just figured out how to use a tri-wheel scooter and was scooting delightedly around the village hall. Attempts to gently prise his vomity hands off this (yet another child’s) toy took a fair while and ended in tears.

The cough still wakes him up every morning and sometimes during the night – wretched fucking thing – but he hasn’t actually lost a meal since Sunday. Hooray.

 I was vaguely planning to do the obligatory year’s review, but it’s five to midnight, so I think I’ve missed the boat a bit. I dislike new year celebrations and have successfully infected John with my annual redatt-ivity regarding this particular over-rated celebration over the years, so the only thing keeping us from an early bed is the bloody fireworks that the local villagers insist on letting off every year. Paolo Nutini is on the Hootenanny, however, so it’s not all meh.

John is fast asleep on the sofa and I am watching the countdown with a jaundiced and weary eye.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Happy New Year, all.

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14 Responses

  1. Happy New Preferably Vomit, Pain and Blood-Free Year to you too.

    (So glad you blogged again. Missed you!)

  2. So glad that you posted again. I have missed you. Poor Harry, I hate when coughing in little ones leads to vomiting, as it seems to do, it is just terrible. They seem to recover so quickly but the mess is God awful. His scar will be impressive, but I still remember being quite upset when daughter get the first one bad cut on her face and I knew I would always be able to see it there as an adult.
    Sure enough when she was home at Christmas I noticed it on her chin and I had a flashback to that shocked look on her face when the she fell on the edge of her board book as a 13 month old. She got 4 stitches, as it was a military hospital and they just did the iv thing as it would not stop bleeding due to the Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.
    If memory serves it was much smaller than Harry’s, that cut looks like it could have held at least that many and then some.
    Of course she doesn’t remember a thing, My hope is that Harry does not as well.
    Hopefully there will be better days ahead in 2010 with less vomit and much less blood and much less pain for everyone involved.

  3. Poor Master Harry. Ouch.

    Thank you for surfacing and happy new year,

    xx

    g

  4. I second May’s wishes!

  5. (Ooh, poor Harry, poor you!).

    A very happy new year to the HFF.
    May it bring you all your hearts desire.

  6. I do hope 2010 is easier on you all, honey. And nice to see you blogging again. I missed you.

  7. Happy new year to you and may there be many less hospital trips for you this year, and may the ones you have to endure be both useful and productive.xx

  8. Happy New Year HFF

  9. Happy New Year HFF. Good to see you about.

  10. Happy new year and wishing you all the best for 2010

  11. Flann did the cough-vomit all down my raincoat on the subway a few days ago; now THAT provided keen insight into the contrasting charitable-mindedness/assheadery of the average commuter. Poor Harry; even with the war wound on his head, he has the most kissable face I’ve ever seen.

    I wish you the happiest, and possibly most fruitful, of new years.

  12. Happy New Year – wonky hair cuts are so 2010 by the way!

    Abs x

  13. Whooo! New posts!

  14. That’s a fantastic photo! TTG put his teeth through his bottom lip twice today and a few days ago as well. Slack mother that I am I never once thought to grab the camera.

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