Teaching vs Sanity: one/nil

Okay…so it’s been two years since the last Madmummy post. Unless you have been living in a cave, you will probably know what the previous (and uncharacteristically short) post was about. Lockdowns. Covid measures. 14 day isolations and all that jazz. It was both terrifying and brilliant. For a working mum with two children it was a gift of time to spend with her beloved offspring.

When lockdown 2020 happened Madmummy gleefully set up her own classroom, drew up a timetable, printed a whole pack from Twinkl and became known as MrsMummy for the remainder of the summer term. She even made the Hulk wear shirts every day, to keep his fine motor skill developing. Why did she bother with such structured homeschooling from the get go? Many other parents were just letting the kids play alone, while they watched Boris thumbing the air, as they freaked out over the global pandemic.

5 reasons why MrsMummy started home schooling in lockdown 1.

1. It kept the children distracted and gave them a sense of normality.
2. It kept Madmummy distracted and kept her from panicking about the impending doom.
3. It maintained a routine that kept them all from boredom and bickering.
4. It kept the learning going.
5. It was kind of fun.

Lockdown Learning
(yes, the hairdressers were closed – hence the Boris look )

Reading with friends

Homeschool Rules

Nature checklist

Acrostic Poetry

Dressed and ready to learn by 9.

Homeschool Timetable

Homeschool Tuckshop Pricelist

Forest school

Word of the day

Lockdown yoga

Lockdown 1 was actually alot of fun

Madmummy remembers well the fun of the first few weeks. Studying flowers, going on a nature trails, doing yoga and listening to them read. Indeed, Jabbermonkey often recalls it as a lovely time when Madmummy gave them both much attention. So how come she hasn’t written all about the global pandemic and the joy of homeschooling? Its been two years! Where has Madmummy been?

And then I go and spoil it all by doing something stupid like….a PGCE!

Madmummy had worked in education for 3 years. She often compared herself to one of those boxing coaches on the side of a boxing ring – who douses the component in water, sticks in the gumshield and pushes them back to the fray. Only, she was giving the year 6 teacher a pep talk -reminding her she was amazing- and handing her a coffee before her next class. Madmummy was in awe of her. She was a lovely, brilliant teacher. But, like many teachers, she was tired,  stressed and all consumed by the job. The few times it was suggested that Madmummy would make a good teacher (for she had a degree and wasn’t bad with kids) she would smile politely and fain consideration. However, inwardly she would recoil and titter “HA HA – I DON’T THINK SO”

When someone says “You should be a teacher.”

But then Madmummy met another teacher in the same school. This lady had been pregnant during her PGCE, had a babe in arms on her graduation ceremony and promptly gave birth to twins in her third year of teaching. AND THEN SHE CAME BACK! She was a stoic goddess! Yet, even with such an inspirational example of how a parent can succeed in teaching, Madmummy wasn’t really tempted. After all, she loved being a Teaching assistant by day and a mum by night (and having her weekend free to enjoy her family.)

But then the year 6 contract came to an end and she started at a new school as an Early Years Practitioner, with her leg in a plaster cast (long story- see previous posts)

While there, she worked with another teacher, who had a toddler at home and a child attending the same school – in the class next door. How lovely, Madmummy thought, to be able to work and see your child every day. How handy that she would have all the holidays with her children and still earn a good wage in such a respected profession. (ahem). But still Madmummy resisted the urge to become a teacher. The costs of wrap around child care, during the training, would make it impossible. Besides, she was perfectly content to just support the class.

Then the pandemic happened and Madmummy started homeschooling – and got a taste for teaching. Finally, she considered this option seriously because:

1. She really did like planning out lessons and seeing her children learn.
2. She was inspired by the heroes of the pandemic She wanted to give something back. The country needed teachers!
3. She was still only on a contract as a Teaching assistant and wanted more job security.
4. With Hubbykins working from home indefinitely, it would be possible to avoid the childcare issues.

So in May 2020 she applied and was accepted on both PGCE Secondary and Primary courses. Next to choosing her A Levels, it was the hardest decision she had ever made. Despite the £12,000 carrot for English Secondary teaching, she opted for Primary teacher training.

a) because she is 5 foot 3 and teenagers scare her,

b) because there would be less names to remember and

c) she had more experience with this age group both professionally and personally.

The spirit is willing but the flesh and brain is weak.

2 years later, and Madmummy has failed to maintain the elusive “work-life balance”. Turns out teaching is tough. Who knew.

Madmummy had envisioned that, after securing her first proper role, that she would turn miraculously into Miss Honey. OR perhaps she would educate and inspire the rough city urchins, a la Michelle Pfeiffer. But, sadly, she has not become the confident, organised teacher who is praised for her unique and effective techniques.

The fantasy vs the realility of teaching

Despite working from 7:30 to 5:30 and several hours at home in evenings and weekends, she could not keep up. Over time, she found herself lacking in energy and brain power to cope with the mountainous work and responsibilities. She won’t bore you with the details but take what you think a teacher does and multiply it by 10 (at least). There were good moments- moments when she felt proud and on the path to be a damn good teacher. But too many times the work and effort did not equal success. And by July she was burned out.

No amount of time could make up for her ineptitude, and slowly the imposter syndrome evolved into constant internal self-berating. Even the most helpful constructive criticism felt like a dagger chiselling another chunk off her eroding self-esteem. Much like the icecaps, her growing misery was a well discussed topic at home; family and friends sympathised but nothing could be done. Until it became apparent that urgent action was needed to prevent what was left of her confidence and self-worth melting into a sea of despair. What should have been the restful summer break was instead marred by intermittent panic attacks everytime she thought of work: Her heart quickened at the sight of her laptop and the gig stick of lessons plans for the new academic year. Her stomach would churn at the sign of the SEN folder that she knew she needed to read in order to best support the children with Special Educational needs

She felt both a sense of sinking and shrinking on the few days that she left her children, (or dragged them with her) and attempted to prepare her classroom displays. Everyone else’s were so much better. She would never be able to compete.

The days of Autumn ebbed slowly away. The process of moving house gave a welcome distraction from her anxiety. Then the dread hit. The last two weeks of the holiday were shadowed by a dark depression so humbling, she longed for a return of the breathless, mind spinning panic of straight up. run of the mill stress and anxiety. The constant feeling of being trapped in a joyless void was suffocating. Nothing made her smile in two weeks. She tried to pretend. Some may have been fooled by the mask. How she desperately wanted to be happy. To enjoy the rest and the time with her children. For two years she hadn’t really been present. Too many times had they seen her cry. Too often had she been sat planning on her computer, denying Jabbermonkey his right to attention. To often had she let the Hulk gorge himself on junk food and you tube while she completed her resources.

And I’m spent

So, Madmummy decided to quit.

She wants to be a good mum again. Jabbermonkey often spoke wistfully about the good ol” days of “lockdown mark 1” -when Madmummy only had to work for one day a fortnight and spend the rest of her time with them. Such joyous times then being followed by Madmummy disappearing in an all encompassing career, must have been a real shock to the system.

But now it’s like she has returned from war! She looks at her own children. She laughs at them and is present. There’s no nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her of the endless to do list and her inadequacy at work. The feeling of freedom is palpable.

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Sometimes you have to give up to win

Madmummy is not the first, nor will be the last to find teaching a little overwhelming. But she has a greater understanding of the struggles of teachers now. Perhaps she will return one day, but to preserve what is left of her sanity she will be returning to supply and considering alternative career options. As much as she would love to write her blog more regularly, finding another job is paramount. There’s a mortgage to pay and kind of a cost of living crisis going on -something to do with the Brexit, Covid and possibly a War in Ukraine. She’s been depressed enough in 2022, so tries to avoid the gloom on the news.

Besides, right now she is still dancing on sunshine from being free of a toxic situation that was making her miserable. When you are trapped in the mine with your oxygen running out, and then finally get pulled out, the worry about your financial security cannot detracted from the glorious feeling of sunshine on your face. Besides, Madmummy knows many others have it far worse right -now and in her right mind -she has the perspective to see that. So, in the immediate future she is looking forward to:

1. Having regular loo breaks

2. Not having to manage 30 kids behaviour (just her her own 2)

3. Having the time to binge watch all the Netflix shows from the last 24 months!

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Is this real? Or has Madmummy dived into one of Jabbermonkey’s sugar-fuelled fantasies!

“And then there was this virus and all the school were closed, and mummy and daddy were home all day, and the weather was great, and we got to play out in the garden and do crafts, watch Disney + and never had to go shopping with mummy…ever!!! “

A mad six months part 3: the joy!

Madmummy loves a bath! There is something so luxurious about a warm sweet smelling soak in a locked room. No matter what state the house is in; no matter if the bath sits in a dull dank bathroom with cracked tiles and peeling sealant. She can just close her eyes and enjoy the sensation of its warm scented hug.

If you have read all of Madmummy’s post you may have noticed that a few refer to her enjoyment of a bath (indeed one refers specifically to eating salad in a bathtub) . Gross as it may be to some, when time restraints forced her to choose between having a bath and eating her lunch…she chooses not to choose.

Today she is once again enjoying a bath as she writes the final blog post in her trilogy. This almost poetic preamble was induced by the fact that she was unable to enjoy a bath for much of the summer due to the leg cast and subsequent muscle atrophy. Madmummy hastens to add that she did have regular showers – in a rather fetching plastic cast cover.

But during winter months, with her weak muscles aching from her physio, the need for bathing exceeded her fear of getting stuck in the bath. (Clambering in and out of the bath was not a graceful sight and she had images of needing to call hubbykins for assistance). She recalls the first bath she enjoyed back in October. The glorious water soaking away the worries from her brain- feeling them drift off with the steam.

She had eagerly been looking forward to having her cast removed back in September and been bitterly disappointed that she was not able to skip out of the hospital in her trainers. Instead she was presented with a delightful boot, which sported, no less, than 5 Velcro straps.

Devastatingly, she was back on crutches the next day. Ambling clumsily with the monstrous boot Velcroed to her leg. Her left leg muscle was so badly atrophied she could barely stand to begin with. But after a few weeks of tottering about at work the strength of her lower leg returned and she began moving about sans crutches.

Oh the joy of being able to carry things from one room into another without having to stick it down her cleavage! Now that she was mobile, Madmummy could get back to her usual pastimes of doing cleaning, cooking and laundry (woo hoo). This inevitably resulted in her ankle swelling up like a bloated sealion’s flipper. She was allowed to removed the boot and elevated her swollen ankle and apply some ice packs.

During her work day, however, the boot stayed on, for 5 weeks! It was tricky at times: she found stepping among 30 cross-legged 4 year olds, with a boot twice the width of her own foot, quite unnerving. But she tried to remain chipper and awaited her final consultant appointment, after which she could giver her boot… the boot.

So, just before Halloween, her left leg was finally set free! She did not skip from the hospital ward but ambled like Igor (very appropriate) through the hospital car park , carrying her crutches in one hand and her boot in the other. With a satisfying fling, she chucked them into the back of the car. They were later discarded in her loft, hopefully never to be required again.

Since Madmummy ditched the boot she enjoyed several soaks in the tub, especially after her physio appointments. She has appreciated them all the more, having had an involuntary hiatus. After a few months they have helped her get back to the peak physical form she once was (hey…why are you laughing? Why did you just spit your latte out in mirth… Rude.)

But in January, the bad luck returned. Madmummy was delighted to get some lovely new LUSH bath bombs for Christmas and was looking forward to dropping a fizzy ball in the bath, BUT then disaster struck!

The boiler broke! Well to be specific the boiler leaked all over the floor and into the boys bedroom. It took a week to get it repaired and a further week to remove the smell of damp from the kids bedroom carpet Madmummy. op Tip: white wine vinegar! It actually bloody works! It did, however, make their room smell like a chip shop, until she counteracted the smell with a tin of impulse body spray and a plug in air freshener.

But now, having had 6 parts replaced, the boiler is operational and the warm bath water is back! Sadly she hadn’t had much time since then to enjoy it. And so, now in March, she is enjoying only her third bath since the boiler was repaired. So while she is enjoying a soak here it is:

Madmummy’s top 10 things that suck about having a leg in plaster.

1. Immobilisation is boring and depressing – you feel dependent on others and can’t do simple things you used to take for granted. But on the other hand you do have a legitimate excuse not to do household chores. It’s the nearest thing to a break Madmuummy has had in 8 years!

2. You can’t carry a cup of tea, hold crutches and hop at the same time. Unless you trust your children with hot drinks (Madmummy didn’t) simply getting a cup of tea for yourself is dangerous. But Madmummy found the solution. Flasks!! Yep, Madmummy discover that she could fill this useful vessel with tea and instruct Jabbermonkey to carry it over to her “corner” where it would serve to keep her hydrated all day.

3. You can’t carry anything! While Madmummy was unable to bare weight on her left leg , she needed to keep her grip on both crutches to get around. Without possessing a third arm, she had to be creative to carry things from room to room. Clothes with pockets and a good rucksack became a necessity, as was the ability to give clear and polite instructions to a 5 year old and a 7 year old. “Darling, can you go upstairs and bring down my phone charger…it is white and has a long wire and is next to my bed… No, that’s the hair dryer…”

4. Stairs are tricky. Madmummy learnt the graceful art of the bum shuffle. Pushing her palms on each step as she heaved herself up the staircase was hard work and she was often a darkish shade of puce by the time she had finished her climb. As a result, she tried to avoid the need to go upstairs by taking everything down in her trusty rucksack each morning and was very grateful to have a downstairs loo.

5. Sitting down on a toilet may sound easy, but imagine doing this while juggling two unwieldy crutches and with just one leg. Try it next time you go do your business. Stand on one leg and lower yourself down. Not easy is it!? Madmummy soon gained one very strong right thigh. She soon became an expert hopper, something she hadn’t been very good at since she was a 5 year old, when hoping was all the rage.

6. Freaky legs. A few months of using her right leg almost exclusively to support her body weight led to one really withered left leg and a chunky muscular right leg. And you can only imagine the grossness that was revealed when the cast was removed. Skin peeling off in big dry chunks…that’s what happens after three months of not being able to wash your leg!

Don’t look at the next photo if you are squeamish. Seriously cover your eyes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

I warned you. I had the most satisfying pamper session with razor, exfoliants and body creams though.

7. Seated Showers. Rather than standing on one leg and risking slipping over, Madmummy opted to sit on a camping chair after hopping precariously into the shower donning her plastic leg cover. Getting out involved pulling herself up by hanging onto the shower cubical frame and ungracefully reaching for her crutches. After this, she would take a deep breath and tentatively hop back out (praying not to slip over).

8. Blue toes and blood thinning injections. To help reduce swelling Madmummy tried to keep her leg elevated whenever possible. So a footstool was purchased and no less than three pillows were used to raise her leg up in bed each night. She also had to inject herself with blood thinner each morning to prevent blood clots. Madmummy did become a tad paranoid on a number of occasions when her toes turned blue and whenever she felt leg pains…not helped by reading up on the dangers of pulmonary embolisms!

The size of that needle!! Had to push it in to my tummy flab every morning

Ouch

9. The mess!! While hubbykins was at work and could only muster limited energy to wash, clean and tidy afterwards, Madmummy was equally limited to what she could do to keep the house in order. Therefore, the house was often less tidy than usual. Madmummy tried to ignore the mess and go to her happy place. Sometimes she could bribe or coerce her children into helping her tidy or clean – “lets play a game called wipe the table!”, “which one of you lucky boys want to have a play with the cordless vacuum!”

10. Getting out and about. Finally, when Madmummy was ready to get out, she was lucky to have use of British Red Cross wheelchair, complete with protruding leg rest to keep her left leg elevated. The only problem was that this did not have the facility for her to push herself. So she was at the mercy of whoever was pushing her. Until she discovered this….

Thank you Tesco!

So there you have it! Madmummy is now back to normal, if there is such a thing. So far this morning she has cleaned and moped this kitchen, done the washing up, brought the bins in, taken out the recycling, checked the meter readings, made breakfast, done a workout, made lunch, brushed the floor, put clothes away, put toys away, helped Jabbermonkey do his homework and his jigsaw puzzle, got the Hulk dressed, washed up again and yes…had a bath. All before 2pm. Now off to get dressed and take Jabbermonkey swimming.

A Mad Six Months Part 2: The good, the bad and the horror!

Warning the following post includes a details of an injury that may make you pull this face….

So, the last post was a rather lengthy preamble leading up to the Jabbermonkey starting his growth hormones in April. The following explains the events that have occurred since April, which has been no less of a roller coaster. Well done if you’ve got this far and hold on it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

It had been a challenging year at work, but Madmummy was feeling very capable, as the year 6 Teaching Assistant. After two years she had finally got to grips with her role and was looking forward to the following year. Indeed, she has even gone on a year 5 trip to London to get to know the next cohort.

The year 6 SATS were two weeks away and all the preparation that could have been done had been done. Despite this, it was a tense time. They were still waiting to find out where each member of staff would be placed the following year. Madmummy would have been pleased as punch to stay where she was, safe in the knowledge that she had done well supporting the class teacher for the previous 20 months.

So, upon returning after Easter, she was rather surprised to be informed that her contract was not being extended after the Summer holidays. Despite her disappointment, she tried to take this blow on the chin and remain calm. Yes, she was happy where she was, but perhaps she needed a kick up the bum to push herself in a new direction.

For example, she had occasionally considered getting into teaching. That is until she has come to her senses! She concluded that she had way to much of a busy home life to commit to arguably the most demanding and stressful job on the planet! She had seen for herself how many hours were put into planning and marking by the teacher she supported.

On the other hand, she was also aware of a number of teachers who were very successful in balancing the demands of teaching, while raising a family- these women are goddesses in her eyes.

But Madmummy was pretty sure she wasn’t one of them. She still found PPA covering a challenge at time.

She did, however, have confidence that she would be able to secure a new Teaching Assistant job before the end of the summer term. When she informed her hubbykins of the bad news that evening, he was equally surprised and philosophical. He immediately began looking and found another job at a local school, working in a nursery class. As Madmummy was due to go away on the weekend she decided to go ahead and apply, if only to feel proactive.

She had spent the past 2 Years working with 10 year olds and was now looking at working with 3-4 year olds. Bit mad, but then she didn’t expect to get an interview. After all, her only other relevant experience with “early years” was BEING A MUM. So it was with great surprise and delight that, the day after handing in her application, she received a request to attend an interview. Get IN!!

The following Friday the interview took place (part of which involved potato painting a hungry caterpillar). After the interview Madmummy returned to work (where SATS week was in full swing) and to her surprise she received a phone call regarding her interview. Although she hadn’t been successful in securing the post she had interviewed for, they wanted to offer her a different job in the Reception class. Thrilled at having been offered a new job within 2 weeks, she graciously accepted.

During the next few weeks Madmummy continued to work diligently: covering classes when needed, learning how to score cricket and helping with the end of year play. She was also asked to help in Reception – which would be a useful experience for her new job. Many people that she spoke to about her next venture seemed slightly perturbed that she was going down from year 6 to reception. “I couldn’t work in early years”, “oh, it’s non stop down there”, “good luck to you” and other warning cries and knowing looks.

But Madmummy would not let that frighten her (well not too much). After all, it had always been her intention to work with younger children, which was why she had previously volunteered at a children’s centre. Back in 2017 (before the Moving Madness) she had been unable to find a job in early years without any previous experience or qualifications. So, she had applied for a Teaching Assistant post within the year 2 class – at the school Jabbermonkey was due to attend! (Remember…the one literally behind her house!)

But wishing to prevent any awkwardness, they had offered her a job in a year 6 class at the “sister” school. Two years on and she had once again been offered a different job to the one she had originally applied. She was hopeful that, like the year 6 job, she would end up getting on fine. She just needed to have faith. Yes, it would be different, but she had spent the past 3 years trying to manage the behaviour and development of the Hulk. She had a very real working knowledge of phonics and speech therapy and she wanted to help other children. But she couldn’t deny that she was slightly worried…would she be up to the job of moulding the minds of 4 year olds! The very newest and youngest of compulsory pupils.

During her last few months in year 6 she intended to make the most of working with older children. So, she was happy to accept the challenge of sorting out the year 6’s Enterprise project. The theme this year was the issue of plastic pollution and it was decided that Madmummy would arrange the production of a reusable water bottle, to reduce the need for single-use plastic bottles in school. She had just 3 weeks before these needed to be ordered and delivered, so that year 6 could sell them at the Enterprise fair. So she got to work. In two days she had sourced a company, sent the artwork and completed the order.

 

By the end of the following week she has convinced a team of year 6s that it was THEM that would be ordering the bottles. They created a script and made the phone call to “the production company”. In actual fact they called Hubbykins (aka Mr Madmummy/ daddybeen instructed/ coerced to pretending to be Mr Fogg, an employee of the bottle company. He too had a script and confirmed all the details of the ordering process. Then, another child sent an email to the company (which was actually an email address set up by Madmummy) and the rest of the team worked out what they would sell their bottles for.

Once she has weaved her web of lies, Madmummy helped them create leaflets, pre-order forms and power points to promote the bottles in every class. However, a week before the enterprise week she was bequeathed another project. Tying it with the theme of preventing plastics polluting the ocean, she was tasked with creating a sculpture from plastic bottles. Great, she thought, it would link in nicely with the “Bottle for life” enterprise project. They could collect and use all the single-use-plastic bottles, which would no longer be needed once everyone has purchased a reusable bottle!

She was then informed that said sculpture needed to be complete ready for an exhibition at Walsall College in 3 weeks.

So, within a week, worrying amounts of plastic bottles were being piled on Madmummy’s desk – contributions from both students and staff. Once again she arranged a team of students to help sort and paint. It was around this time that she got the inevitable wisdom tooth infection and had to take 2 days off while the antibiotics kicked in.

Once she had returned to work, she busilly got to work on constructing a 2 meter long turtle from plastic bottles. Armed with a Stanley knife, Pva and a huge roll of gorilla tape she worked tirelessly between end of year rehearsals, spelling interventions and cricket practice.

During the enterprise week itself her feet barely touched the ground as she tried desperately to get the bottle turtle compete. For, while she had a week to go before it’s instillation, she was to spend three days of that week on a residential trip in Whitemore Lakes. Yes, she has been selected to accompany 20 year 6 children and supervise various activities and challenges. These included archery and fencing and more death defying activities like climbing, absailing and raft building.

Here are some photos of her during her brave escapades.

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Ah…so that’s how Madmummy ended up with her leg in a cast! No doubt she fell when doing abseiling or some other such activity- I hear you cry.

WRONG!!

She arrived back from Whitemore Lakes on the Wednesday and was thrilled to be told that the entire year 6 and their staff would be allowed a lie in to recuperate; they would not need to attend school until 11am the next day. As exhausted as she was, Madmummy did NOT seize the opportunity to get a lie in! Why? Well it was the Hulk and Jabbermonkey’s first sports day and so her motherly duties beckoned (after all she had been away for three days).

After the quintessential egg and spoon races were over, and her hand were raw from clapping, she drove to work. The later start meant that she had to work fast to get the finishing touches to her bottle turtle. She cannot recall what the class did in the afternoon, but the events that took place after the children had been dismissed will forever be etched into her memory.

The bottle Turtle needed to be installed at the college before she went home, ready for the WASUP exhibition launch the following afternoon. So, her top priority was getting her bottle turtle into the car (she actually had to borrow Hubbykin’s car, as it had bigger boot) And so, she began ferrying the pieces of the turtle from the classroom to the car. The shell, the head and legs each took a separate shift. Across the playground and through the playground gates she carried her precious creation until finally Terry the Turtle was fully loaded.

Madmummy then returned to collect her display boards, and was walking back to the car when DISASTER STRUCK

**Warning: the following includes a description of a nasty injury which may make you do this face…**

She’s not sure exactly how it happened ….but somehow, in the process of walking back to her car, the gate swung back and her ankle got caught under the metal railing. Ouch..that smarts!

For two seconds she thought it wasn’t that bad and was determined to shake it off, walk to the car, go to the college, install the turtle and get a plaster on it later. ‘‘Tis but a scratch!” she thought.

But when she glanced down at her ankle she knew immediately that, even if she could drive to the college, she could not have carried the turtle to her place in exhibition hall without leaving a messy trail of blood. It would probably be frowned upon. She also thought…

….£$#%^ck!!

Determining that she needed first aid, she hopped/scampered across the playground and entered the year 4 classroom. The perplexed year 4 teacher and TA looked surprised to see her back. “Um! I’ve had an accident and think It might be bad”- she had panted before collapsing on the reading corner chair. The TA came over calmly and looked at her ankle. Her eyes grew big and she ran out of the room yelling “WE NEED A FIRST AIDER!!”.

Soon she was having her heel and ankle held by two TAs, as the maths teacher passed bandages, the RE teacher mopped her clammy brow and the head teacher rang her husband. During this she deliriously continued muttering “the turtle, the turtle needs to be at Walsall college for 5pm”. If only to calm Madmummy down, they uninstalled the Turtle from her car and reassured her that the headteacher would deliver it himself, as soon as she was safely on her way to AandE.

When hubbykins arrived it was agreed that the year 6 teacher, who Madmummy had supported for the last 2 years, would “hold the foot”. while he drove her to hospital. Having survived her drive to AandE she delicately climbed into a hospital wheel chair, where she sat bravely in the waiting room – her hubbykins kneeling down at her feet in-front of her. Just where she likes him. He could have been mistaken for a hopeless romantic proposing to his love…accept he was holding on to her bloody foot!

The pain was bearable (compared to having had two children). What was excruciating was the jovial quips that hubbykins kept spouting (typical of him in a crisis) “The first cut is the deepest, hunny” or “no more rugby union for you! Haha”

About 15 minutes into their wait hubbkykins began to complain of feeling uncomfortable on the floor, and so he swivelled her around so that he could sit on a chair.

And they waited…

As if seeing that they looked bored, a nurse arrived and asked if she could borrow her wheelchair for another patient. They looked at each other in surprise and confusion, as if to confirm that they had both heard the same thing.

They muttered a quiet objection and indicated Madmummy’s foot. But the nurse insisted that she would return it as quickly as possible and so they obediently agreed. Madmummy clumsily hopped into the chair next to hubbykins, dripping blood on the floor in the process. Seeing this, the nurse paused for a moment in realisation (perhaps she had previously thought it was only a sprained ankle). Regardless, she continued to make off with the wheelchair.

Madmummy was left to lie precariously over a waiting room chair, her ankle still clutched in her husbands lap. 30 minutes later her wheelchair was returned. After another hour she began to think that perhaps they should have called an ambulance.

Then she was called through.

Having been assessed by the AandE nurse and consultant they confirmed that she had indeed “partially ruptured” the tendons in her ankle and would require surgery to clean and repair the area. The nurse had initially dismissed Madmummy’s insistence that she might need a tetanus, (it was a rusty gate that had sliced her ankle.) After Madmummy had confirmed that she had been given a tetanus at school, the nurse had insisted that she wouldn’t need another “they last 10 years, you’ll be okay…your only 24”

“Ummm…I’m 34” Madmummy replied, both flattered and alarmed.

She was soon wheeled up to ward 9 on a gurney, grateful that she wasn’t asked to hop anywhere. She was given intravenous antibiotics and told she would be “nil by mouth” from 3am until her operation the next day. So she signed the required paperwork, had a sandwich, took some drugs and went to sleep. It was not a restful night, however, as it was a busy and noisy ward and she had forgotten her ear plugs.

The next day she has her Tetanus and her bed bath and waited patiently. A jolly orderly wheeled her down to an even jollier x-Ray technician and she took delight in telling those, who asked, what happened and watching their expressions.

The morning and the afternoon went by and still no operation. She was informed that there had been a serious car accident, and that the single surgical team had been swamped by emergency cases. Fair enough.

She was very understanding, after all her injury was nothing compared to the sort of things they would have to deal with following a car wreck. It was now 8pm (only emergency operations were performed after 8pm) , so she had her antibiotics and her sip of Morphine, and a chicken sandwich – for she had missed dinner.

The next day, the anaesthetic had spoken to her and assured her that she would be the next case that morning. So she had washed herself with the smelly pink soap and smiled through all the offers of food and drink that she declined. At 2pm in the afternoon, however, she began to crack. There was no word on the operation time, or why it was delayed. She was hungry, sore, tired and bored. Furthermore, she was starting to get fed up with answering the innumerable messages she received from friends and family, asking “how did the operation go?”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve flipping had it!!!”

Seeing that she was growing both “Hangry” and impatient, a nurse agreed to find out what was going on. She returned with a doctor, who assured her that her case had been upgraded to “emergency”, (although he still didn’t know when her operation would be). It was now past 5pm and the dinner trolly was doing the rounds. Alas, she could not partake. Madmummy was resolved to the fact that she would probably end up staying for a third night, and was a tad irritated to be denied her dinner. It seem liked a cruel torture that she had been asked to fill in her meal order form for the past two days and then been unable to partake. After obediently declining a tea at 7pm she was beginning to wonder when the nurse would be bringing her the quintessential left-over-sandwich and the same bad news.

But she did not return with a sandwich but a different anaesthetic. At first Madmummy had assumed she was just preparing her for an operation the next day. But, before she knew it, she was been wheeled down to the surgery room. Thrilled, relieved and suddenly Terrified!

After all she had not had a general aesthetic since he was six and had grommets put in her ears.

She had just signed a long document detailing the various (if unlikely) complication that might occur – which included loss of limb, infection and death!

She remembers laughing casually with the surgeons, who were surprisingly young and handsome (Ahem…though, not as handsome as her hubbykins) . Then, as the injection was given, and an oxygen mask was held on her face, and she began to feel her heart race. As if sensing her silent panic, the man assured her that all she needed to do was think of something nice to dream about.

Within the following 5-10 seconds she thought about her family. She tried not to think about death. She thought about her happy place in the autumn woods, She heard her heartbeat and worried that she would not be able to sleep. She blinked.

Then she work up.

She had previously thought she would wake up like this…

But she in fact it was more like this

It was a far more casual re-entry into the land of the living than she has thought. There was a nurse watching calmly over her and some heart rate monitor stickers on her chest, but it just felt like she had woken abruptly from one of her many impromptu naps (she is practically narcoleptic when watching Tv after 10pm).

She breathed deeply, expecting to feel the wave of violent nausea, which she had been warned about. But it didn’t come. Within minutes she was wide awake, being wheeled back to ward 9.

She was relieved and full of joy! She was alive and there was a double chocolate chip cookie and a cup of tea with her name on it waiting in her room. She drank the tea, ate half the biscuit, took some painkillers and slept like a baby that night. (A phrase Madmummy finds painfully misleading having had two babies who’s sleep was not particularly deep or long)

The next day she was transferred to another ward (slightly newer and less busy). There she would await her physio appointment and eat the hospital food like a starved beast.

The next day she was given crutches and a brief instruction in how to use them. She even got taken to a stairwell to practice the noble and elegant art of bottom shuffling up and down the stairs. Once she had proved that she could crutch her way to the toilet, she graduated from the 50 minute crutch school and was discharged with a sac of painkillers, antibiotics and blood thinning injections.

The later she has been receiving daily since her accident but a nurse had administered them. But after removing her cannula, the nurse casually explained that it would be Madmummy’s own responsibility to inject herself for the next 50 days! After a brief instruction the nurse insisted that Madmummy should try this at once. So she duly grabbed a roll of flab, jabbed the 1 inch needle into her subcutaneous tissue and plunged. The nurse then told her she would feel a stinging sensation and may experience some bruising. (no shit!!)

and then finally she was discharged

On her return home Hubbikins was as excited as a puppy to have her back and he presented her with new dressed (as she could no longer wear her beloved leggings). Her mum has cleaned the house and got her a new foot stool and she was forbidden to move from her leg raised position unless she needed the loo.

Well that’s one way to make Madmummy slow down. Indeed, despite feeling the occasional pang of despair at her uselessness and loss of freedom and independence, she tried to take advantage of this excuse to truly relax for the first time in 7 years. A wheelchair was acquired and she was pushed around the towns and shops for the subsequent weeks by either hubbykins or her mother (whom she stayed with for a week). During this time she even got a chance to ride a mobility cart at Tesco’s – which was thrilling.

Sadly, as well as being unable to work the last few weeks of term, she was unable to play the female lead in the play hubbykins had both written and directed. Luckily another member of their drama group was able to learn her lines in 2 weeks and the show was able to go on.

Madmummy was sad not to be part of the supporting cast (bad pun intended) but delighted to get a new leg cast, in which she could pick the colour of. So she chose her favourite colour -red- and eagerly accepted the offer of glitter. Only as she was drinking her tea in the hospital cafe afterwards, did she realise her choice was weirdly festive for the month of July.

On the upside she was given permission to say farewell to her rather ugly and uncomfortable flight stocking.

Two weeks later and her cast was due to be changed again, this time she selected a more summery blue.

The position of her foot was also adjusted and she was given a rather fetching cast slipper and permission to bare weight for the first time in five weeks. Once her ankle had been fully set in the flexed position and the straps of her slipper tightly fastened, the nurse asked Madmummy to try walking, so she could see how she did. Well she thought it would be like this

But it was more like this

The nurse reassured her that it was normal to struggle at first, but once her confidence was back and muscle atrophy subsided she would be able to walk again. The cast would now remain on for 4 final weeks before finally being removed…just in time for the end of the summer and the start of her new job….almost.

In fact she had to start her New job with her cast still on. Looking both ways and limping carefully across classrooms when no children were running. As she is writing this she is sat in the staff room with 7 hours to go until her cast is removed!!! She can’t wait but is a bit apprehensive about seeing the hairy, shrunken horror of a leg that lays underneath.

A Mad Six Months Part 1: Captain Jabbermonkey.

After spending the past 6 months running around like the proverbial headless chicken, Madmummy once again has found herself with some time to write:

a) because it is the school holidays (Woohoo) and…

b) because she is currently immobile with her left leg in a cast (boohoo)

Yes, Madmummy is currently a plaster-cast wearing invalid, crutching delicately around the toys that lay strewn across the floor. She is incapable of more than basic household tasks. So, naught she can do….but write.

I know you are itching to know how Madmummy came to be so incapacitated. Well, I’m afraid you will have to wait.

Before she can divulge the details of her “unfortunate accident”, she must take you back a few months, to set the tone, the scene, background and generally update you on what was happening in her life. In fact, it is likely that there will be a trilogy of posts for you to enjoy and I warn you, there may be some long-winded flashbacks and tangents.

Since her last post about the journey to the Hulk’s diagnosis, he has now gotten his glasses (and has broken them no less than three times.) But this post is not about the Hulk, it is about her eldest son, the Jabbermonkey, and his equally arduous road to successful medical intervention.

Prior to realising that the Hulk was a bit different, Madmummy had long been concerned about the Jabermonkey’s height and weight. Since birth he had always been petit. But after a 7 year long battle, she is happy to say that growth hormones have now been prescribed!

Much like with the Hulk’s diagnosis of Autism, the process seemed to have come to a standstill. But following their move to Walsall (see Moving Madness post) they have made a breakthrough. As customary, here is the full chronological order of events leading up to this triumph:

Disclaimer: the following includes details of Madmummy’s experience of childbirth. While it is not too graphic it may contain some negativity towards her labour. Madmummy would like to state that the NHS midwives are all hardworking angels that deal with women at their most vulnerable. They work long hours and cannot be expected to be jolly every minute of every 16 hour shift. But, of course, when one is in labour with ones first child (with a hormone-addled brain) one may forget this.

She would also like to point out that she had a comparatively easier time when giving birth to the Hulk (who was double the size). So, if you are pregnant and reading this, DO NOT be concerned that your birth experience might be equally harrowing and traumatic. Saying that, you might wish to miss the the first chapter.

Chapter 1: Labour or niggles

October 2011

After a fairly event-free pregnancy, Madmummy was informed (with 2 weeks to go until her due date) that her fundal height was unusually small. In other words her belly was not big enough for a 38 weeks pregnant woman. A scan was performed and the decision made to induce her – 2 days before her due date (lest her placenta should shrivel and her baby shrink further).

During labour Madmummy managed her contractions so well that no one believed she is in true labour- until she started pushing. Having used her trusty hypnobirthing tape and yoga ball to get through 18 hours of contractions, she suddenly felt the pains intensify.

The midwife on duty seemed rather unhappy that Madmummy had gone into active labour during her shift. She was not the nice lady who has been monitoring her all day, (she had been called away to an emergency c-section). In fact she was the ward supervisor and had not delivered a baby in 2 years.

She was adamant (as Madmummy begged for an epidural) that she was merely having a reaction to the induction medicine. So, Madmummy had thought that all her hypnosis tapes and breathing exercises were in vain. She recalls the midwife saying “it’s just niggles – labour will be much worse” and her heart sank.

Worse!?

She had thought (and said) that she would NEED an epidural. “There’s no way I can manage pain worse than this- I feel like I’m going to explode!”

Only when the midwife finally “checked” her, did she concede that Madmummy was, in fact 8 centimetres dilated. So, the “reaction to the induction medicine” was actually…transition! The bit of labour where the contraction intensify, just before the pushing starts!

There was a moment of pure relief as Madmummy realised that, not only was she in active labour, but nearing the end! She felt a wave of new confidence and excitement. She wasn’t a weakling with a low pain threshold after all!

The pain was bad but she was proud to have coped well up to that point – with only a couple of paracetamol. She had been offered the two paracetamol a couple of hours earlier and politely accepted (with well disguised contempt.) In Madmummy’s experience paracetamol didn’t touch period cramps, so she felt a mixture of mirth, annoyance and insult at being offered it for the body-contorting-agony of back to back contractions.

Before the midwife had time to wheel her across the corridor from the induction suit to the labour ward, the pushing started.

The midwife shouted for her not to push, but by this time Madmummy’s body was no longer her own.

There was moment where Madmummy recalled one of the many articles she had read about giving birth and she asked, “shall I get on all fours?” The midwife calmly said “no, you don’t need to do that”. To which Madmummy replied “okay, so no hippy shit, then!” After a few puffs of gas and air, 10 BIG pushes and what can only be described as demented roaring from Madmummy, the Jabermonkey was born- expelled from her womb still in the caul.

This is not actually a photo of Jabbermonkey. We were all a bit preoccupied at the time so I got this from google.

He was perfectly formed but tiny and a bit on the chilly side. After being warmed up in the baby microwave (it literally went ping when he was done) he was handed to his weepy (and sore) mother. A surge of euphoria came over her as she held her precious, and very dainty, first born baby in her arms.

At this point the midwife asked if she had brought him a jumper and hat and was openly frustrated to discover that she had brought only a single vest and baby grow. She made some comments about her child being cold and squeezed on a rather ugly woollen hat she had found in the donations box. Madmummy recalls the exacerbation in the woman’s voice and and deep shame fore being so disorganised.

She and hubbykins then left her alone, to think about what a crap mother she was already proving to be within the first half hour of getting the job. Needless to say, with surging hormones coursing about her mind, the emotions were somewhat magnified.

Once she had finished bawling her eyes out she then felt a wave of anger, as she recalled that she had been told not to bring hats and jumpers by the nurse at her pre-natal classes. “Hospital are notoriously hot and your baby will not need layers- a hat could cause over heating” – she has been informed. She and the rest of the pre-natal class cohort, had been advised to pack two bags. An overnight/labour bag with things to get through labour and the initial few hours (first baby grow/nappy etc) and another bag for hospital stay/taking baby home with hats and mittens etc.

As Madmummy had been assured over and over again throughout the afternoon that she was NOT in active labour, she had told her secondary birth partner (her mum) to go home with the second bag. After all she didn’t want to cause an accident by cluttering up the hospital with two bags.

Although it may have been a poor choice, Madmummy still felt that the berating she got was a bit cruel and insensitive…after all she had been in a fair amount of discomfort at the time she made the decision. Besides, she had just given birth!! If ever there was a time to give a girl a break it would be after she has just GIVEN BIRTH!

Chapter 2: The early days

The dream Madmummy had dreamt of breastfeeding Jabermonkey was quickly shattered. In the first few hours she was informed that his sugar levels were low. Therefore she had two choices…feed him from a bottle or they would take him to Intensive Care. She couldn’t bare the thought of being apart from her precious child, so she agreed to bottle feed and breastfeed him. Unfortunately, she was totally unprepared for bottle-feeding and hubbykins had to rush out to get premixed formula.

Once she was on the ward, there was a deluge of information thrown at her, which she didn’t really take in (not surprising given that she had just undergone the most traumatising experience of her life, and hadn’t slept for 30 hours).

It was explained that Madmummy needed to request new bottles at reception for each feed. So every time she went to the ward reception, she apologised for bothering the night staff, who would reply “it’s okay” – unconvincingly, as they handed her a disposable bottle.

On the second day Hubbykins was surprised to find that she had run out of milk (Jabermonkey only needed 2oz of the 6oz cartons per feed and Hubbykins had purchased 6 cartons). It became apparent that she had been throwing 5oz away after each fed! Hubbykins and the midwife delicately enquired why Madmummy had not kept the leftover milk in the fridge.

There’s a FRIDGE!?!

Apparently she has been told about it during the “information monsoon”.

After beating herself up for her ineptitude, another patient took pity on her. The kind lady across the room made her a cup of tea and took her to the fridge where she could store the extra milk.

Chapter 3: Nipple confusion

Combination feeding did not go well. In the hospital the tiny Jabermonkey could not latch or suck properly, and immediately preferred the ease and reliability of a bottle.

Once home (when her milk came in) his minuscule mouth found it impossibly to gain any kind of purchase on Madmummy’s solid bowling-ball-like breast. They were intimidatingly large and overwhelming to him.

She began expressing before each feed in order to “soften them up” for him. Perhaps it was too much effort, or perhaps he just didn’t like the taste of her stress-hormone-laden breast milk, but he refused. He would cry and resist, squirm and generally refuse to do all things babies are meant to do with lactating boobs! 30 minutes to an hour would go by and he would give up and fall asleep.

Madmummy would then give in and offer a bottle, to which his little eyes would light up. He would suck away on his Cow and Gate and stare up at mummy with wide eyes and she knew what he was thinking.

But she persevered. She would express, then attempt to breast feed, and then bottle feed and repeat. She was aware that any supply would be thwarted if there was a lack of demand and that, while he was getting a bottle, she would not be generating enough milk herself. Sometime during his second week it was recommended (by health visitors) that she should not offer him bottles – “if he’s hungry he will just have to learn to breastfeed”.

It lasted 1 agonising day, during which time Jabermonkey lost 5oz and screamed continually. Knowing that a 4lb 8oz baby could not afford to loose 5oz in a day, and she couldn’t afford to loose her sanity, she went back to combination feeding. EVERY THREE HOURS…DAY AND NIGHT…FOR THREE WEEKS.

At the beginning of the 4th week she began to hallucinate. Thus it was decided that she would give up breastfeeding and accept that, breast is not always best.

It felt as though a weight has been lifted.

Apart from expressing a bottle a day (as a gesture) she left her breasts alone and oh…OH sweet lord it felt good!

Chapter 4: Regular weigh ins.

The reason Madmummy knew that Jabermonkey had lost 5oz (during her foolish attempt to breastfeed exclusively for one day) is because he was being weighed everyday by her health visitor. Apart from the day in question, the formula milk seemed to be working and the numbers on the scale were gradually rising.

After her midwife discharged her, she recommended that Madmummy took him to be weighed at a baby and mummy group, which was frequented by a midwife. So, every week or two, Madmummy took Jabermonkey to be weighed. After each “weigh in” his weight would be entered and a point plotted on the graph in his “little red book”. It went up steadily, but always under the lowest percentile on the graph.

Chapter 5: Blood test torture.

By his first birthday Jabermonkey was still under the 4th Percentile and Madmummy’s had become concerned that he was still very tiny.

So the GP referred her to the growth clinic at her local hospital. They suggested a blood test to look for an underlining condition. But getting blood from a 14lb 1 year old prooved to be difficult and traumatising. The usual blood clinic tried, the children’s ward tried and finally the children’s A&E department tried. They had tried 8 different places on her tiny baby’s body until they finally got blood…from his WRIST!

During all this her child had screamed and squirmed and she had held him as best she could, while imagining herself in her happy place (thank you birthing hypnosis).

It was so traumatic that her Mother in Law, who had come for moral support, felt quite faint by the end. For Madmummy’s part, she felt emotionally drained and horrendously guilty for subjecting her innocent child to such butchery. What made it worse was that, after each attempt, (during which time his little face would be contorted in agony), he would look around and smile or even laugh at the medical team in delirious relief.

I like you…you arent hurting me right now

The blood results turned out to be fairly inconclusive, nothing major wrong. During the course of the following two years he visited the hospital a number of times to be weighed and measured and even get a bone XRay.

Unfortunately the blood tests had caused him such trauma that he had became very anxious. He panicked when the doctor tried to X-RAY his arm and started screaming and crying. Eventually, Madmummy managed to get Justin’s house on her phone to distract him and calm him down.

Another blood test was carried out when he was 18 months old, which was marginally less traumatising – but it still took several upsetting attempts and various nurses trying various areas in his body. It didn’t help that he would begin crying and panicking as soon as his arm was touched. He later developed a fear/suspicion of all female dentists, hairdressers and (obviously) nurses and refused to wear short sleeved tops.

It was around this time when she was prescribed special milkshakes from the dietitian to boost his weight and growth. These were useful, especially when he was going through the typical toddler food refusal stage. There was no danger he would lose weight if he didn’t eat all his tea, as long as he had a shake before bed. Af this point, he was still just 16lbs (some people have newborns heavier).

Chapter 6: He’s how old?!

Jabermonkey was now walking and, indeed, talking and many people would look surprised to see a child the size of a 6 month old dancing and forming sentences. Madmummy would always be amused by this at first, but when she explained he was actually 3 times older than he looked she would be met with concerned faces and questions.

More than evershe needed to be proactive in her quest for answers. Although having a smaller toddler had its perks (she could just fling him over her shoulder when he was having a tantrum) it was becoming a concern that his weight and height were still not increasing enough to get him on the graph. At 21 months it was decided to stop giving him the milkshakes, as they were just preventing him from eating the meals she prepared for him, and had not improved his growth.

At around this time the doctor at the growth clinic was concerned Jabbermknkey might have rickets due to his boney ribs sticking out, so another x ray was performed and a Vitamin D blood test. It was during the latter that Madmummy finally lost her composure.

She was heavily pregnant with the Hulk at the time and lacked the strength to restrain her terrified child. So his nana had to hold the him, while a nurse tightened the tourniquet and he began to scream and struggle (before a needle had been inserted).

Madmummy ended up leaving, not only the room, but the entire phlebotomy department (that’s posh for the blood test room). Hearing his desperate cries even in the corridor, she was overcome with hormones and helplessness. She burst into fits of tears, much to the dismay of passers by, who upon seeing a distraught pregnant woman came to comfort her.

When she explained (through blubs) that she was upset that her toddler was having a blood test, they politely patted her on the back and continued on their way – clearly thinking “she’s mad”.

The blood test wasn’t even successful after all that, as not enough could be taken. Nonetheless the doctor ruled out rickets from the X-Ray.

Chapter 7: The big test

A year or so later, the doctor decided to arrange a Growth Hormone Simulation test, which would measure his growth hormone level and involve taking a series of blood tests over the course of a morning.

Obviously, Madmummy was concerned that he would not be able to cope with this due to his previous trauma and subsequent anxieties. But the doctor arranged for a play worker to help provide therapy prior to his test. So, each week they attended the ward, where the play therapist talked him through the process of inserting the cannula. He even got given the tubes and plasters to practice on his Peter rabbit toy and was well prepared on the day.

Madmummy had even been given a special cream to put on half an hour before his test to numb the area where the needle would go. Why on earth this was this not offered before? ‘Answers on postcards.

So, on the day of the test, Jabbermonkey and Madmummy came to the hospital and the regular height and weigh checks were done. The nurses asked the standard questions: “is he well”, “have you put the numbing cream on?” “has he been fasted?”

I’m sorry…what…fasted?

Now, Madmummy at this point has not only given birth to the Hulk, he had become a strapping toddler (with as yet undiagnosed autism). She had therefore endured all new levels of sleep deprivation (without the ability to rest during the day with a demanding 4 year old and very mischievous 2 year old). So she acknowledges that she may have missed something said during the consultation with the doctor.

She had indeed had no idea that he was meant to be fasted and had fed him breakfast. So the test was postponed and they returned home, shaking off their annoyance and calling it “just another practice run”. A week later she received a letter with a new test date and two pages of information which were NOT provided with her previous letter. It included information about the test, and right at the bottom it stated that the child could not eat or drink 8 hours before the test.

So on the day of the test Madmummy dutifully ignored his request for breakfast, creamed up his inner arm and they trekked back to hospital.

With a little support from the play therapist they succeeded in getting in a cannula and gave Jabermonkey a substance called Clonidine to drink. He behaved very well and it was less harrowing that Madmummy had expected. The only issue was, having not fed him since 7pm the day before, he became weak and tired. By the end of the test he was sound asleep.

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Unfortunately, just before the end, his cannula dried up. They ended up trying to take blood from his other arm but could not get a full sample and had to get the last bit from his heal. Considering that neither of these places had been numbed, Jabermonkey coped bravely with only a little squeal of pain. This may have been because he was too exhausted, dehydrated and hypoglycemic to struggle.

After the test was over he was offered toast which he scoffed hungrily before proceeding to vomit everywhere. After he had eaten a bit of lunch (slowly) and was feeling more himself, Jabermonkey returned home and received much praise and many rewards for bravery.

Chapter 8: the results!

After a few months the results came back …

Growth hormone levels: normal.

Growth rate: normal.

By this time Jabbermonkey was still just 20lb and his 2 year old brother was fast catching up. In fact they were often mistaken for twins.

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He was also due to attend school and many more people has begun to make comments about his weight and height. However, Madmummy was determined that, as the the professionals had confirmed he had no growth hormone deficiency, she would confidently respond that he was just small and would grow in his own time.

Case closed…or was it

Chapter 8: A second opinion

Upon moving to Walsall, Madmummy decided to ask their GP to refer her to a bigger hospital for a second opinion. After all he was, at the age of 6, still wearing 2-3 years old clothes. The GP agreed and within a few months she had an appointment with Birmingham Children’s Hospital. The same blood tests, x-ray, weight and height checks were repeated and yet another growth hormone test was scheduled.

On the day of the test the cream was put on by the nurse (who probably did a better job of it) and Madmummy gave Jabermonkey a midnight snack (9 hours before his appointment). This time he was given a different testing substance, called Arginine, intravenously and they shared a pleasant day together – reading books, playing with the toys and watching videos on the iPad.

He was even wheeled over to a party in another ward, where he had his face painted.

Walking back to the car park, Jabermonkey sweetly expressed how much he had loved spending the day with her. Indeed, it has been a while since Madmummy’s attention (which has been torn between the Hulk, the house and her job) had been so firmly fixed on him. But what prey-tell were the results I hear you cry…

Big drum roll

Growth Hormone levels: normal.

“Well, that’s that” thought Madmummy. After having got two professional opinions, she must accept it…he would just carry on being petit. She had never really been unduly concerned about the prospect of him being small, what he lacked in high he had always made up for in personality. But since his birth, she had felt increasingly dogged by comments and looks every time a stranger was surprise to learn of his age.

Moreover, with two other cases of short stature in the family, she felt justified in ensuring that all checks were made. Madmummy had often worried that one day he might find being small difficult and he would ask why Madmummy hadn’t pushed for growth hormone therapy. Now she felt sure that she had done all she could…she had tried.

So she went along to his next consultation, expecting that the doctor would reassure her that Jabbermonkey would grow in his own time. Perhaps the doctor would arrange regular follow up appointments, or just discharge him altogether. After going through the motions of the usual height and weight checks, the doctor explained that the test proved his growth hormone level was fine.

However.

Due to the fact that he was born “small for dates” he would be eligible for growth hormones to “boost” his growth.

Hold the phone!

“So he is going to actually get growth hormones” she had uttered in disbelief.

“Yes” replied the doctor.

Before she knew it, she was being shown several injection devices to choose from.

Thrilled as she was, she suddenly felt apprehensive about the prospect of administering daily injections into Jabermonkey for the next 11 years. By this time however, Jabermonkey was on side and had started to really want to be taller.

Having just watched Captain America, he likened his new injections to the super juice that was injected into the weedy Steve Rogers. (Hence the title of this post Captain Jabbermonkey).

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He was all for becoming a burly super hero

Madmummy she was thrilled when she got a call a few weeks later to arrange the first delivery of growth hormone. However, it was another month before she got the actual device, along with a growth chart, a story book, stickers, teddy bear and three sharps bins. There was a bit of delay getting their nurse visit to train them how to use it, but Madmummy wasn’t going to complain- she was just thrilled that it was all happening.

By April 2019, after 8 years of doctors visits, traumatic tests and uncertainty Captain Jabermonkey had his first jab of growth hormone…and the superstar didn’t make a peep!

He has since grown 6 cms in 3 months (which was how much he was growing in a year previously!) So it seems to be working!

Apart from a few mood swings and growing pains he is very happy to be finally getting taller.

Madmummy, on the other hand, is getting increasingly emotional about her little guy growing up fast. She’s even had to get him a new wardrobe as he’s growing out of all his clothes!

But, before Madmummy’s eyes could well up there would be all new “distractions”…

The Hulk – explained

News just in! Madmummy is not mad! Well she is; she’s ruddy mental. But after years of trying to work out what she was doing wrong, and all the doubts and fears about the Hulk’s strange alternative ways, she has finally been given some answers. Jabbermonkey was such a chatty, joyous boy. Therefore she had always thought that the Hulk’s rages were simply standard toddler behaviour. That her and hubbykins had been spoilt with Jabbermonkey and that the Hulk was just a typical kid: wild, contrary….nuts. Perhaps deep down she had always known that there was something a miss, but she subconsciously shook off the nagging thought that things were not quite right. If you have read her previous posts you may already have an insight into the Hulk’s behaviour and Madmummy’s subsequent attempt to manage it. But here is a not-so-brief lowdown:

The Hulk age 0-5

Birth: The Hulk was born two weeks late, weighing a healthy 8lbs 7oz.  He had been regularly scanned and measured throughout the pregnancy on account of Jabbermonkey’s low birth weight and Madmummy had been assured that he was a healthy size with “a big head and broad shoulders (perhaps a little more information than she needed). The birth was natural and fairly incident-free, apart from when Madmummy overdosed on gas&air and passed out during the pushing phase. She then proceeded to have a drug induced dream about Stephen Fry, who was divulging the meaning of life (she watched may too much QI in her third trimester). She remembers waking, wide eyed, and gasping “you will not believe what I’ve just seen, I know the truth about everything!” To which the midwife kindly uttered “That’s nice, but can you PUSH please!”

0-6 months: The Hulk appeared to be a normal, albeit hungry baby (and Madmummy would know as she had to breastfeed him every 3 hours day and night for 6 months! *pant* *hugs boobs*

6-12 months: The Hulk was weaned off Madmummy, so that she could once again have a life outside of being a human cow. He slumped a lot when sitting up and loved to sit in his walker watching the DVD screensaver -mesmerised by the way the letters bounced back and forward and changed colour. He was not talking in words but could say say “dagga dagga”. But that was actually a relief for Madmummy because, at the age of 3, Jabbermonkey would not shut up.

12-18 months Madmummy was a tad concerned that the Hulk was not yet walking or standing (as by 12 months Jabbermonkey was off) but she knew that she shouldn’t compare. He didn’t  crawl, but instead rolled to where he wanted to get too. His idea of playing with toys was to chew them, throw them or bash them together. Whenever he was in the pushchair his legs stuck rigidly out in front, making it difficult for Madmummy to turn around the isle in the supermarket.

18 months – 2 years Around this time some family members had started to voice their concern that he was a bit… unusual. One family member suggested he looked like he was having petty-mal seizures as he stared into space a lot, another felt that he seemed to have no core strength and others noticed that he would never hold Madmummy around the neck when being carried, but would become completely limp (like he was trying to break her). Still not talking, but eating plenty, it was getting exceedingly difficult to carry the heavy lump around.  So, Madmummy and the family decided to give the Hulk a kick up the bum (figuratively speaking) and get him walking. A whole evening was spent at his nanny’s house, where the entire family took it in turns to stand him on his feet, aim him at another family member and let him run clumsily to them. It worked and by 20 months he was walking unaided…..and then the fun started

• 2 years- 3 years: Are you sitting comfortably? Here goes…*takes a breath*. 

 The combination of being a tall child and being able to walk, enabled the Hulk to access dangerous or precious new things. Combined with his total disregard and dislike of the word “no”, his ability to reach and destroy everything he touched changed the goalposts entirely. Madmummy had to move everything out of reach. He also had become almost un-humanly strong; Madmummy recalls the morning that she was surprised to be woken by him, standing by her bedside. Thinking he must have climbed out of his cot, she was most perturbed to discover his cot utterly demolished – the bars laying splintered on the floor! This was the first proper Hulk-smash moment (there were to be many others).

By two years old he was being seen by a speech therapist and Madmummy was trying to implement a programme of positive reinforcement and language development techniques. She gave up her career (which she couldn’t possibly balance with the needs of her family) and spent her days playing with the Hulk and repeatedly saying “Can you say….     ? Say….      Please say…..    ” To no avail.

Madmummy and Hubbykins attended a Makaton training course in order to learn an alternative way to communicate with the Hulk (who at this point could only say “dagaga” and “NOOOO!!”) Madmummy was also given a number of PEC (picture exchange communication) cards by the speech therapist to help the Hulk express his desires. Unfortunately, he had developed both an obsession with posting things and an ability to climb onto the kitchen worktop. Thus, he had toasted most of the laminated cards within a month (Madmummy can still smell the burning plastic). Too embarrassed to ask for more, madmummy re-created her own cards with her crude illustrations and found they did help her understand what he wanted to eat (the “yoghurt” card got worn out within a week!). At this point he only really ate yoghurts, grapes and cream cheese on crackers (square crackers they must be square!!)

Apart from being quite a picky eater he developed a number of unpleasant behaviours. These were often put down to his speech delay and subsequent frustration, but Madmummy had started to think his obsessions, temper tantrums and strange sensory responses suggested another underlying issue. By the time he was 3 he was regularly doing such things as:

1) refusing to hold mummy’s hand when out.                                                          2) scratching.
3) screaming                                                                                                                    4) hitting                                                                                                                          5) collapsing in the middle of the carpark when mum insisted that she hold his hand
6) Pulling her hair out when she then had to fling him over her shoulder and carry him to the car                                                                                                7) screaming. kicking, thrashing and bending backwards when she tried to put him in the car
8) scream bloody murder all the way home until Madmummy went….well MAD!!

• 3-4 years: If you thought the terrible 2s was bad…

By this time the Hulk was attending Pre-school two afternoons per week and Madmummy had warned the staff that he had delayed speech and some “behavioural issues”.

The speech therapist had already refered him to the CAHMS (Children and Adult Mental Health Service) who had begun to discuss his case, but were not overly concerned. Although the staff at the pre-school admitted he was behind in many areas, it seemed that he always behaved fine when he was with them (REALLY!!! WHAT!!) So, while he was totally off the wall batty at home, he was totally chilled and calm at the pre-school and Madmummy really did think she was just going Mad. However, she could not ignore nor cope with his increasingly difficult behaviour, which now included but were not limited to:

1) Licking windows

2) Throwing things

3) Shaking his head and arms erratically when excited

4) Being obsessed with TV

5) Having massive tantrums because she had parked in a different place than usual or taken a different route to school.

6) Refusing to get dressed without a fight.

7) Refusing to eat without a fight.

8) Refusing to do anything without a fight.

9) Insisting on taking a watering can full of heavy bowl balls to pre-school

10) Hitting, scratching, biting,running off, collapsing on the floor and screaming (you know the usual day to day stuff)

So, at Hubbykin’s suggestion, she had begun to keep a diary of the Hulk’s daily tantrums. Madmummy hated doing it- talking about all the horrors and bad things- but knew she needed to keep an account of what was happening. The record included what happened before the tantrum, what he did, how Madmummy dealt with it and what the Hulk was like afterwards.  For example:

• The Hulk was hugging a tree at his uncles wedding.

• The Hulk refused to stop hugging the tree when it was time to have his photo taken.

• The Hulk was carried from the tree kicking a screaming after shouting “no” at daddy and refusing to let go.

• Hubykins was not able to be present for the photo as he had to hold him out of shot to stop him rolling on the muddy ground in his new suite in front of all the wedding guest. The Hulk continued to scream and cratch hubbykins, while Madmummy tried to smile convincingly for the camera.

• Later he broke a glass, had a tantrum over dinner and, subsequently, Madmummy took him back to the hotel room for much of her brother’s wedding reception.

 At first she could see no point with writing the 60 page long document of negativity, but she later realised that it did help give her an insight into the Hulk’s mind. She could see patterns, causes and effects. Prior to this she had rarely known the reason for his meltdowns, which was the worst part of it. Now she was beginning to understand…obsessions, sensory stimulation and a deep frustration towards a world he couldn’t fully understand or engage with. The wedding was a prime example of a time where nothing was routine and the people and the place was unfamiliar.  Although he may have smiled and looked excited, he was anxious about what to expect and over stimulated in every capacity (the wind, the feel of the tree bark and the hundreds of faces.)  Hubbykins was almost certain what the issue was, but Madmummy just couldn’t quite believe it. Surely some health visitor or medical professional would have picked it up?

But she decided to exert herself, and so she handed her report to the GP and begged that she send it to the CAHMS team to aid their investigations. Surely her comprehensive account of day to day life would be far more valuable in making a thorough assessment, than just 1 afternoon a week watching him with a load of other kids at pre-school.

Months went by and nothing was offered to assess or support the Hulk, apart from the speech therapist who was apparently pleased with his progress. Madmummy had given up working completely at this point, and dedicated her time (whenever the Hulk was not at pre-school) to taking him to play groups, attending music and dance classes and giving him constant positive re-enforcement. During this time she was also arranging a house move and job search (see previous blog entry) and upping her long and arduous attempt to potty train the Hulk.

Gradually his behaviour improved, either that or Madmummy learned to live with it and better preempt the meltdowns. She had felt quite apprehensive about how he would cope with their house move, but he wasn’t too bad. A week before she officially moved she received a letter from the CAHMS team to say they would not be assessing the Hulk and had no cause for concern at this time.

Having moved, Madmummy was referred to a different health visitor and speech therapist and the Hulk began going to a childminder full time. To Madmummy’s astonishment the Speech therapist arranged a sensory support session for her and Hubbykins, created a development plan for the childminder and booked the Hulk in for a Multi-agency assessment!

• 4-5 years: Finally some clarity!!

During the next year the Hulk behaved well at his childminders, where he benefited from playing with only a small group of children and having large amounts of 1 to 1 time with the highly trained and patient lady who looked after him. As always, he had difficulties adjusting to the new routine, but after a while he came to see her as a rigidly set part of his daily life. This proved a challenge on weekends and holidays, prior to which a routine-change talk was needed (with plenty of crudely-drawn sketches to aid his understanding).

Around this time he developed a new obsession…numbers. He learnt to count to 20 and recognise other numbers too. And so he counted…repeatedly. It was great to see he had a strength (much of which he gained from repeatedly watching Youtube videos on the subject). The trouble was he would insist, as he did with much of his communication, that Madmummy acknowledged her understanding by repeating it back. “1, mummy one!!” he would say, pointing to a house number. If Madmummy didn’t say “yes, one, good boy, that’s right” he would repeat it more and more loudly!! She can remember a time when he was screaming blue-murder at him at ASDA because she had failed to understand and acknowledge that he had seen the number 23 above the dairy isle.

During the course of the year his speech did improve a fair bit. However, Madmummy could no longer deny that his ability to communicate was not great. What made her more concerned was hearing younger children speaking so eloquently and clearly in comparison. He was on the cusp of being able to be understood- he had his own thoughts and wanted badly to be heard-but even his Madmummy was often at a loss  to what he was trying to say (especially out of context). She can still feel the vibrations in her bones when she thinks of all the times he had screamed at her in the car, after having repeated himself several times (each time getting louder and more inaudible). But without knowing what he was seeing or what was going on in his mind, she just didnt know what he was getting at.

She recalls one particular occasion where she, the Hulk and Jabbermonkey were heading off to collect Hubbykins from work. They were going for a week away on the Isle of White. The cases were packed and a cuddly toy or two were in the back seat with the boys. Madmummy had enlisted Hubbykins’ brother to dog sit during their holiday. But, as they reversed off the drive, the Hulk began shouting something. It sounded like “NOOO oooiir, Mrooo dtraaa-ooooo” and everytime Madmummy guessed incorrectly he would shout loader “NOOOOO MOOOARAAATTROORER!!!” Until eventually the car was filled with screams both from the Hulk and Madmummy. Thrashing and kicking he continued to bellow a phrase she could not decipher and she continued guessing. “What is wrong? More what?…more…toys?!! You want more toys?” Madmummy had thought that, like may children, he may have wanted mummy to bring more than a couple of teddies on holiday, So she calmly explained that it would not be possible to go back, as they had to pick up daddy and get to a hotel before dinnertime. His response to this was to scream “NOOO” ever more loudly, apoplectic with anger and refusing to allow mummy to explain that one teddy was enough. He shouted back every time and she thought he was just angry for not getting his way.

She wont lie…eventually she began to scream back and he began to wail uncontrollably.  Having arrived to collect Hubbykins, she clambered out of the car, shaking from the audible and emotional battle, half deaf and almost delirious with confusion and frustration. What the hell was he on about!! She looked at his tear soaked face and, suddenly, a lightbulb clicked. Suddenly, she remembered that this was no ordinary boy with ordinary wants and needs. An image popped in her mind of the porch door. In her rush to leave she had not closed it properly ane it has swung open. The inner door was closed and their uncle was inside, so she had not bothered to go back and close it.

“Oh, more door!?” she calmy said to the Hulk, to which his eyes opened and his sweet sad voice said “yes”.  So, she called Uncle J and asked him to close the front door. On hearing this

 the Hulk’s  face lit up and he was as good as gold for the rest of the journey. Madmummy decided to let Hubbykins drive, as she was still frazzled from the ordeal. Sitting in the passenger seat on the way to Southampton, she mentally kicked herself for not getting it sooner. For the Hulk had harboured a door fetish since he was 2 and would always go around opening and shutting doors repeatedly (and anything else with a hinge).

Which brings us onto another little habit that he picked up after he turned 4. One day he discovered that by kicking the handle on Madmummy’s car door he could open the window and thus let in the gloriously stimulating wind he loved so much. Madmummy can remember how may times he would stand in the garden shaking his arms and head in excitement, as the wind battered him.  The promise of such stimulation was cause enough to ignore mummy’s requests not to open the window, no matter how fervently she insisted. To exhasabate this new obsession further, he delighted in the sight of flying objects. Kites, planes, balloons and even a floating carrier bag would full him with joy. Therefore, he would revel in throwing out anything he could reach with total disregard for other road users. Indeed, he had once thrown out a cuddly toy rabbit (that Hubbykins had bought for Madmummy and subsequently had been added in to the children’s massive stuffed toy collection). Having told him repeatedly to close the window and not pop the rabbit’s head out of it, she had been devastated to find, on reaching her destination, that the Hulk had released her bunny somewhere between junction 5 and 3 of the M6!!  Suffice to say Madmummy has now had the handles removed from her car doors and window-winding is no longer an option.

Instead the Hulk has sought other stimuli, such as the hand-dryer in public toilets. Yes, many a family birthday meal has seen Madmummy return to and from the loo several times, for many extended visits, while the Hulk enjoys the thrill of the noise and wind simulator!

The Hulk continued to grow in length and weight but still considered himself a baby most of the time. Especially when going to bed, when he would insist mummy carry him, or when it was time to get dressed. Both times he would go entirely limp but, while he resembled a dead-weighted calf at bedtime, he was more like a clumsy octopus when dressing him. And if he didn’t want to get dressed?….well lets just say the pin-down on the floor approach was sometimes required.

Food remained another obsession of the Hulk. Perhaps it goes hand in hand with the interest in anything with a hinge (ie: cupboard and fridge doors). He is able to clamber up to every cupboard and many tantrums have developed from his mean mummy’s refusal to allow him to eat a seventh banana in the same hour or an entire punnet of grapes in one sitting. It might seem to some to be wrong to deny a growing child food, but Madmummy knows his desires are not from hunger, but purely a means of control and comfort. Like a baby with a dummy, he enjoys having the comfort and stimulation of eating (often preferring crispy foods like crackers or tart food like blueberries). Often, it is not even about enjoying food, having a sweet tooth or being a hungry little boy…to the Hulk, food gives him control. One of the first things Madmummy learnt through the speech therapist was how to use Makaton to sign different foods, (indeed, she had to ask specifically for the sign for crackers and cream cheese, which was the only savoury food he would eat). His first PEC cards were not of games or activities but food – grapes, oranges, yoghurt etc. It’s the one thing he could either DO for himself (ie: climb up, grab and chew) or request mummy get him (even if all he did was point and sign please). Many a

weekend morning he has returned to the kitchen several times and refused to stop until the cupboards were bare or after a screaming, thrashing tantrum had been wrought against Madmummy.

Entire boxes of cheerios have been munched away, several pots of yoghurts and dozens of satsumas, all between breakfast and lunch. Other explanations for his constant binging are boredom and attention seeking (he grazes most when mummy is busy). So, he can be deterred if distracted by a trip to the park or the, dare she say it, the Ipad….

The iPad is now the primary obsession. What the Hulk lacks in communication and social skills he makes up for in his keen ability to understand and use technology. Since his birth Madmummy is ashamed to say she fell onto the smartphone bandwagon and, initially, felt no shame in letting the Hulk play educational apps or child-appropriate You-tube videos. But, like with food, it became an obsession. His love of the control, of the predictive cause and effect, of the sensory stimulation (the colours, songs and the pushing of buttons) causes him to forget the rest of the world.

He may love Madmummy very much, but he forgets this when she demands her phone/ipad back and will yell and physically lash out in anger. During the course of the year Madmummy has developed a reward system based on him getting to use the Ipad once per week, on weekends only. (he must obtain 20 stars on his good boy chart). When he does have access to his beloved iPad he spends much of his time watching YouTube videos that repeat number or letter songs (more recently he has been watching videos of people playing with Pawpatrol toys or Disney Princess dolls.) He also uses Madmummys phone to likes take photos… THOUSANDS of photos. Some are quite artistic. Madmummy has to spend several minutes per day deleting the hundreds of photos of the floor or the Hulk’s knee. 

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TV has often posed a similar issue and is banned during the week.  It started when he used to obsessively watch the Twirlywoos when aged 2. At the age of 4 he discovered MickyMouse clubhouse, and watched endless episodes back to back. He also revels in dancing and singing to the Disney music such as Frozen and Moana.

So, half way through the year they had gotten into a routine, a status quo (if there is such as thing), where the Hulk’s behaviour was manageable (most of the time). It then came time for him to attend his Multi-agency assessment group, known as “Feel Good Friday.” Hubbykins kindly agreed to take the Hulk each Friday afternoon (as she was now kinda busy at work, helping 10 years olds prepare for their SATS tests.) She was pleased that she would soon have some sort of definitive answer. It is worth pointing out that until this point she was wary of saying what she and Hubbykins suspected. For what did she know? She wasn’t an expert and she was convinced that the professionals would have said if there was cause for concern. But she was still struggling at times. She also had to admit, that she dreaded being told “there’s nothing wrong with him, this is what kids are like, it’s not him…It’s YOU!” So, on the week before the final meeting,  Hubbykins returned from the penultimate session and calmly sat her down and explained that the professionals in the Multi-Agency group had completed their assessment and wanted me to know the findings a week prior to the final meeting…to allow time for the news to sink in. Their finding were thus:

The Hulk has….”Autism and associated learning difficulties”.

Hubbykins asked Madmummy if she was okay, expecting her to be devastated, and explaining that the group wanted to give her time to accept the diagnosis. They would then be able to answer any questions, once she had stopped crying. But her feeling were far from sadness or disappointment. For she had secretly dreamt of the moment when she would be given a definitive answer. In her daydreams she had sobbed in pure relief at being told that she wasn’t weak and feeble – failing to manage a typical wilful boy. In reality, she remained dry–eyed and outwardly pleased to have professionals agree with their suspicions. Inside, it felt that she had been pulled out of the dark! After three years of confusion, uncertainty and second guessing how she was dealing with the Hulk, hearing the official diagnosis felt like a weight had been lifted. She wasn’t mad! He was…well “different from average kids”!

Best of all she knew she would have renewed confidence going out with the Hulk in public. She had always felt apprehension, knowing that his behaviour might bring looks and comments from others and she would have only be able to utter weakly in response: “he might have autism, we are looking into it”. But now she could say it with confident assertiveness to anyone who did decide to voice their opinion on her son’s temper tantrums and screaming hissy fits.

In actual fact this had happened only once before. Waiting at a Costa’s toilet, one day, the Hulk had tried to grab the handle, while the toilet was in use. When Madmummy had said “no” the Hulk had screamed and collapsed (he needed a wee/he really wanted to open the door). An elderly man, who was also waiting in the line, then shushed him, so angrily, that he burst into tears in terror. If only she could have said “thanks a lot for making my autistic 4 year old cry…there’s my chatty 6 year old, why not smack him for talking too much”.

• 5 years – Educating the Hulk

As well as praising Madmummy and Hubbykins for their preemptive support and work with the Hulk, the  Multi-agency assessment group explained that he had what was know as “Fizzy-pop autism”. So, with the diagnosis confirmed Madmummy could finally justify all the extra adjustments she had put in place over the years. Moreover, she could inform his new school of his issues and get an EHCP form written up. She had been concerned about his behaviour and how he would cope at school. However, as explained, the nature of “Fizzy-pop autism” is that he will always try and put on a brave face in front of strangers. He will find little things (a door being ajar here, a misunderstood phrase there) will shake him up inside, but he will not explode until he is safely back at home in his “safe place”- where he will explode all over Madmummy, Hubbykins and Jabbermonkey!

However, he coped far better than expected and his afternoon tantrums have been no worst than usual. He still struggles to engage in play and can’t communicate well with his peers, but he seems to enjoy being with a big group of friends his own age. Indeed, since getting a list of his class mates names to write Christmas cards, he has done nothing but read and copy out the names over and over again for the past 3 months. He loves reciting their names and gets very cross if Madmummy mis-pronounces them. More recently, however, he has obviously become more comfortable at school. as there has been a number of incidences of hitting, scratching and pulling hair. These seem to be caused by his communication frustrations and sensory impulses and his parents are at a loss as to what else to try to correct the behaviour. But tantrums are not nearly so long and wild as they used to be.

Due to his habit of chewing his clothes or other random things they have bought him a chew toy for him to wear at school.

More recently he has had an eye test and it has been found that he has reduced vision in both eyes. He now dons the cutest glasses that make his eyes look huge. Since having them the last few weeks she has noticed that his eye contact is much improved and that he actually looks at her lips when she speaks. She is hopeful that this will improve his diction and ability to comunicate.

He has recently developed a love/obsession of copying letters and words and seems determined to decode the mystery of the written language. As usual, he will probably learn reading and writing in his own unique manner, but he is already able to read letter sounds and blend them into words. Visual learning has always suited him and Madmummy is confident that his diction and vocabulary will improve as he learns to read. So, she had better start saving for uni!

Mad moving!

Over a year has passed since Madmummy last reported/whinged on life a an inept mother of two. So, fair warning, it’s gonna be a Woppa. In last year’s post the following major projects were on the table.

 

1. The big push on the Hulk’s potty training.
2. The big push on the Hulk’s talking.
3. Madmummy quitting work.

Soon after writing the last post, however, she had several more complicated challenges to add to the list:

A) The taming of the Hulk

B) Selling and buying a new house.

C) Finding (you guessed it) another job!

D) Arranging various repairs on the new house

And finally

E) Fulfilling the multitudes of duties as a housewife/mother/grown up, while not being entirely useless in her new job.

Suffice as to say, she has found no time to write. As much as she would have loved to share the mirth and madness of last year’s escapades as they occurred, she found the days and months wizzing by her with little time for toilet breaks. So a retrospective account it shall be.

The reasons why she had a “work break” are mainly related to the practicalities of Childcare and bedtime routines. At the time she worked evenings, but when Hubbykin’s got a new job involving working some evenings and weekends, it meant the children wouldn’t be put to bed until 9pm (pushing Madmummy’s dinner time back to 10pm- only 30 minutes before collapsing in a heap in her bed). Coupled with the fact that, after Childcare costs, they would be only 50p per month worse off if she gave work, it seemed the sensible (and healthier) choiceSo, why then has this lady of leisure not been writing an entry to the Madmummy blog every other day?

The taming of the Hulk

Well for a start, she was a Mum and housewife (enough said). Secondly she spent the first 3 months of the year trying to develop a programme of behavioural management for the wild and wilful Hulk.

This involved keeping a record of his many MANY tantrums and

“poor choices” (like choosing to tear the hair from Madmummies head, as she carried him to the car after he collapsed in the middle of a car park, screaming, because Madmummy refused to let him lick a stranger’s car.) Each day, when she could have been writing blogs, she kept this log of negativity in the vain hope that her GP or Child Mental health team would shed some light on what she was doing wrong.

After the third month she gave up and gradually, with lots of reward charts and visual communication tools, the Hulk was tamed (a bit). As long as the routine is stuck to, his tantrums are fairly calm and manageable, however he is still a loose cannon. Madmummy tends to conduct a briefing with him if his routine is to be altered. This includes illustrations of the plan of action and offering various incentives for his co-operation (use of the Ipad, another banana or a third episode of Micky Mouse clubhouse.)

She has learnt that he is a very visual learner.

Moving madness

“Death, having a baby and buying a house are the most stressful events in life”. Madmummy heard that phase several times and, while she didn’t doubt it, it did nothing to prepare her for the new levels of insanity which occurred. So, why on earth did she agree to go through such a challenge? She seems to think it was something to do with Hubbykins working north of Birmingham and also their drama group being based in Aldridge. In fact, on many a long drive home after rehearsals, they had thought of moving back up the road (the M6). So with no work to hold her to Coventry and only one child in school so far, it was decided. Now or never. After the decision was made, in early 2017, project “move!” began. Firstly, in order to get her house sold for a good price she had to make it look like a good house to buy.

Step 1- Declutter.

So, working from the loft downwards, she de-cluttered. It sounds so simple. But, with no work to challenger her, Madmummy found ways to make it complicated. The hardest part was allowing herself to “LET GO”, and develop the strength of heart to get rid of the things she had hoarded over the 8+ years. To make it easier to part with stuff she decided to sell as much as she could, pandering to her enterprising side. So, in between her Avon sales, she lovingly washed and sorted baby clothes to take to the “cash for clothes” place. This proved to be a huge waste of time! For, having spent hours sorting and washing (and crying over fond memories of her growing babies) she got exactly £18 for the 5 Black Sacks full of baby clothes!

Marginally less fruitless, was selling the old books at a local second hard book place. She had to email them all 50 books she was flogging and managed to get £25 for the 20 that were worth having. In order to sell the countless DVDs that she and hubbykins agreed could go, she downloaded a nifty app, called Zappa. Although quite time consuming, Madmummy enjoyed scanning the 80 odd barcodes and laughing at how little each DVD (which cost between £5 and £30 for her to purchase) was worth. “£00.1 for “Three Men and a Baby” she laughed to herself, while feeling the inner despair and a moment of weakness. Perhaps, for a fraction of a penny, it wasn’t worth the risk that she would one day need to laugh at three men making a meal of parenthood, and not have access to this classic. However, her resolve was strong and Hubbykin’s voice sounded in her head each time – “it will probably be on Netflix”.

The final place to make money was through Gumtree. The cot and guitars were sold and furniture and other junk given away. Developing the strength of body to get junk down the ladder, down the stairs, to the car (parked 20+meters away) and then flung into the skips at the tip, was the easy part.

Step 2- Cover up the cracks

With the help of Hubbykin’s, Nana and Popa the house was given a thorough sprucing. Several tins of gloss and dozens of tins of magnolia emulsion were used to cover the wee handprints and crayon lines. After a deep clean and tidy, the house looked as “show homey” as it had ever done. Now all Madmummy has to do was keep it that way…easy right?.

Step 3 – Maintaining the illusion

Soon after getting those lovely photos up at the estate agency the viewing requests came
flooding in. Madmummy will admit that, since having her malting Siberian husky, and subsequently her sticky fingered boys, she has lowered her standards of cleanliness. So she was not accustomed to performing a full clean and tidy everyday. But, with viewings coming she got good at “speed cleaning”. She also got into the habit of taking the Hulk to play groups, dance class, the park and the library for as much of the day as possible.

A genius idea! The house can’t get messy if no one is in it. So whenever she was in the house (accept when she was sleeping) she was cleaning – FOR FOUR MONTHS straight

Unfortunately, the Hulk loves to climb up and look through kitchen cupboards, (foraging for snacks like a starving little mouse, rather than the big bruising lad he is). On one occasion, having been in the condiments cupboard, Madmummy had retrieved him to take him to the park, while the estate agent conducted a viewing. Coats and shoes on, she had glanced around to check that the place was clean and neat, switching on the plugin air fresheners before leaving. After returning home, she was met with the acrid smell of fish as she entered the kitchen. A small puddle of orange liquid had gathered on the work top and Madmummy followed the dripping to a fallen bottle of Fish Sauce in the condiment cupboard. Suffice as to say, she did not get an offer that day.

Step 4 – getting a mortgage

So, this is quite boring but also kind of exciting. Before you can really start viewing houses one must know what you can actually afford. Not being in work Madmummy feared they would not be offered much on a single salary. With the help of a broker, however, they were happy to be able to increase their previous limits and start the house hunting.

 

Step 5 – picking the most expensive thing they will ever buy.

Having viewed 20+ houses in the first month, it soon became apparent that there would have to be compromises. She could no more have a house with a large living room, downstairs loo, separate dining room, conservatory, large garden and a drive (within walking distance of an Outstanding school) than she could have the waistline of Kate Moss. At least not in Aldridge. So they gradually looked further out to get more for their money.

Madmummy had to accept that she might not have a dishwasher and Hubbykins had to accept that an open fire was impractical with two boisterous boys. Madmummy had a brief image of the fantasy- -snuggling up with Hubbykins, on the leather sofa, in front of a roaring fire (while the boys sat, strapped to chairs, with their hands tied behind them).

Many of the new builds were very pokey and many of the older houses were on dangerously busy roads or needed a lot of work. Finally, they were able to agree on a house that was fairly new, fairly big and had potential – but needed work (just how much they would discover).

Step 5 – Buying and selling

Having had an offer excepted and a mortgage applied for they were filled with excitement and pride- for Madmummy and Hubbykins has become “proper grownups” at the age of 32. But then came the waiting. So Madmummy kept herself busy by looking at jobs and schools.

Step 6- Educating Jabbermonkey

Since Jabbermonkey was now in compulsory education, all of their house selling and moving timescales were aimed at allowing them to move during the summer holidays. According to the Rightmove website their soon-to-be home was near 3 schools and so Hubbykins and Madmummy arranged to visit them. The first was a massive, sprawling academy with high ceilings. Madmummy felt her wee Jabbermonkey would feel lost inside, having previously attending a small infant school. Also, the rather sour faced office person, who gave them the tour, stressed how unlikely it was he would be accepted.

The second had been rated ‘Inadequate’ by Ofsted (that’s the worst rating you can get). Madmummy doesn’t consider herself a snob but on this occasion she wanted to do better than ‘inadequate’. The last school was just round the corner from their soon-to-be home (the playground was actually behind the house, so in theory they could get Jabbermonkey to school by catapult).

It had a very Good Ofsted, bright walls, and friendly staff. The only difficulty was that it was a catholic school and they were not catholic. However, as luck would have it, they had space to accommodate Jabbermonkey and he was offered a place. Everything was going swimmingly…. and then disaster struck

Step 7- start all over again!

The buyers for her house decided to retract their offer for no apparent reason. Madmummy remembers the day she got the news – the confusion, disbelief and horror! She remained completely calm however. She did not burst into tears down the phone in the middle of her cooking class, nope. She calmly informed her parents of the situation and emphasise her concerns that she would not be able to sell and find another house before summer. With stoic pose, she expressed the possibility that she would loose the house (and Jabber-monkey’s school place).

Thankfully Nanna and Popa came to her rescue! Grateful and relieved were pitifully small words to describe how she felt when they offered to pay her deposit on the new house, so that they could carry on their purchase. Suffice to say they saved the day! She promised to pay then back and the house was put back on the market once again. And so step 3 recommenced – continuous cleaning was back as her top priority, along with finding a new job.

Step 8 – Lucky Break

During her 6 months as an unemployed housewife/mother/Avon rep,
Madmummy had been looking at her future career choices. Judging by the bank balance it was clear that she would not be able to remain sans-salary indefinitely. Looking at her past 5 years of employment it was clear that full time work and motherhood did not mix for her.  Paying out £1000s in childcare during the summer, verses spending time with her children in the holidays seemed a no-brainer, right…

. So she decided that part time or term time only employment might be the answer.

 

So she determined to gain experience in the childcare industry  and had volunteered her services to a local children’s centre every Tuesday and Thursday since giving up work. She had then spent hours looking for courses and jobs in childcare, only to discover they were quite expensive and there were no paid jobs for the unqualified early years worker. So she looked into the Teaching Assistant career path; it was easier to get experience, possible to qualify through an online course and would offer the best holidays to fit with school aged children.

So, she applied to the local college for a level 2 Teaching Assistant course, secured a work placement at the school Jabbermonkey had been accepted at and had signed up to a short course call The Essentials of Key stage teaching. In between her house cleaning, school runs, volunteer work, trips to the tip and various outings with the Hulk, she had scheduled to “attend” virtual classes on the “the fundamentals of key stage teaching”. The classes took place over the internet and all she needed was a laptop with a speaker to contribute to the discussions.

The old house was under offer once more and their new house was ready to be signed for. Whenever Madmummy wasn’t doing the above she had her phone to her ear chasing up what was happening, getting moving quotes and occasionally looking for paid work. A few applications had been sent to no avail. Then one day, after completing module 9 of her course – Routes in to Teaching – she decided to look for Graduate teaching programs.

By accident, however, she stumbled across a vacancy at the same school Jabbermonkey was to attend. Despite doubting that she would secure an interview, with no experience or qualification, she completed the application. She knew she was just humouring herself, but she couldn’t help imagine how easy it would be to deliver Jabbermonkey to school and go to work at the same place. The Hulk had even secured a place at the school’s nursery.

To her utter astonishment she was offered an interview! To her delight and amazement she was then offered a job starting in September. The house move was all set for August, Jabbermonkey was all sorted with a school and Madmummy had got a job lined up too. Score! There was just one little catch…

Step 9 – Childcare Challenge

The job that was offered was not exactly the one she had applied for. It was at a different school, with an older class and it was more hours. To cap it off, the Hulk’s nursery could not offer an all day session. So, using the Childcare website and the Walsall Family Information Service, she was unable to find a child minder willing to go back and forth twice each day (to get the Hulk at midday and then drag him back at 3 to collect Jabbermonkey). After weeks of searching (in between packing boxes, moving house and unpackingc) she had to settle with using two child minders- one to collect Jabbermonkey from school and one to have the Hulk full time (good luck).

Just when all was sorted, and they were about to go on a much needed holiday, the Hulk’s childminder had to cancel her offer for “personal reasons.” So Madmummy was back to ringing and messaging every childminder in Walsall. She even considered a day nursery. But it turned out it would have cost over £500 per month, even with the new 30 free hours scheme. Annoyingly, the new incentive covered 30 hours a week, term time only (nice small print, Conservatives). So for a day nursery it only paid for 23 hours per week and 20 hours would be surplus to Madmummy’s requirements. It just didn’t make sense to pay for childcare from 7am to 6pm for 51 weeks of the year when she only need 9am to 4:30pm term time only. The deadline for applying for 30 free hours was approaching. With no registered childminder and no confirmed start date it was looking like the new job might be a no starter. Indeed, to add to her phone bill, she had also spent much of the same few weeks trying to contact her old work for a reference.

Finally, with less than 4 days till their trip, she managed to find a childminder. She was lovely and reasonably priced. She was on the other side of town. but Madmummy could not afford to be picky. That same day, having given up on trying to get a suitable reference from her last employer she had been able to provide a great second reference from her Avon manager. Finally she could breath a sigh of relief and apply for the childcare funding (with two days to go before the deadline)!

Getting the keys and opening the door – well not quite!

On entering their new house- Madmummy and Hubbykins discovered a number of surprises.

The previous owner had said, as she passed over the keys, “it was a happy home – be happy and enjoy”. However, judging from the punch holes in the walls and kick dents in the few remaining internal doors, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. The carpets were also stained and fowl smelling (Madmummy suspected it has seen too many drunken teenagers).

Having taken the necessary measurements to get the replacement doors and carpets ordered they had left their house ready to take on the challenge of redecorating the following week. Of course they were careful to lock the front door…and the porch door.

 

However, when they returned the next week, laden with tins of paint and polyfiller, they found the door would not unlock. A quick call to the previous owner confirmed that when she had said “we don’t lock the porch door”, what she had meant was, “we don’t lock the porch door, as the key is broken and inexplicably can lock the door but can’t unlock it. So DON’T lock the porch door!!”.

They followed her suggestion to try and ‘Jimmy” the porch window and climb in. All this succeeded in doing was to draw the attention of concerned neighbours. So a locksmith was called and after trying 35 different keys for 45 minutes he was about to drill the lock when he suggested we try the back door. It was then they discovered the back gate was both unlocked and hanging by a screw! Also, the conservatory doors were not only unlocked, but wide open! On further inspection there appeared to have been a key wedged in the lock. Having finally got in the house, unlock the porch door and thrown the key in bin, they then had to pay for the locksmith’s call out fee. Then they had to enlist him to replace the conservatory locks, as he could not remove the wedged key.

After a slow start, they spent the following two weeks decorating the new house. Madmummy would spend her evenings packing boxes at the old house and her days helping Hubbykins paint the new house .

As well as many little surprises (evidently they must have viewed the house blindfolded) there was a bad leak under the kitchen sink, broken plug sockets and the garden waste bin was full of stagnant water owing to the fact that there was a crack in the lid

The shower was broken, the hot water was intermittent and the previous owner had left an old fridge for them to dispose of. It needed a certain amount of plastering throughout and all the rotten blinds needed binning

 

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Suffice to say it has been a fixer upper and the work continues. The savings are depleted so its going to be a while before my house is a palace. But after almost 12 months, I can now call it home .

 

Embracing the madness

It’s 8:30 on a Saturday morning and Madmummy has been up since 6:30am. To some without young children (and some lucky cows who’s toddlers enjoy a lie in) this would seem strenuous. But Madmummy doesn’t feel sorry for herself. Jabbermonkey is at his Nanny’s and the Hulk is a chilled child, so long as he isn’t denied food.  So she enjoys a peaceful Saturday morning watching “The Secret life of Pets” for the billionth time this week. It is true that she did have to change the Hulk’s PJ bottoms at 1:30am this morning. But, having gone to bed at 11:30pm, she estimates that she had enjoyed 2 hours plus 4.5 hours sleep. Over her 5 years experience of motherhood she knows for a fact that 6 hours sleep is both adequate and more than she should expect.

Now that Jabbermonkey attends school she appreciates Saturdays all the more. Yes, she might be awake before most people, but she doesn’t need to rush about at full pelt to get out of the house for 8:30. Indeed, she reflects back on yesterday’s madness with a grateful heart – grateful it’s over and that everyone made it safely to today. Read on for another account of another mad day in he Madmummy house.

Friday 27 January 2017

1:30am : Madmummy was awoken by the Hulk who had an accident, or “A-a-ent”, as he calls it. She changed his sheets and PJs and put him back to bed. The Hulk protested but she ignored him. She returned to her bed, where it took about 20-30 minutes to get back to sleep.

2:30am: The Hulk woke again and, being half asleep, Madmummy foolishly let him come into the bed (thinking it was 6:30am). He shuffled around and eventually fell asleep. Madmummy lay awake on the edge of the bed with no covers. She worried that he might wet her bed and contemplated carrying him back in to his own room. She decided not to risk waking him. .

3:30am The Hulk began to snore and Madmummy decided that she would go and sleep in his bed. She snuggled up on the 4 foot toddler bed and managed to get a full 90 minutes sleep.

5:00am The Hulk woke and came to find his Madmummy, asleep in his bed. He joined her and they dosed for approximately 20 minutes before he decided to start traipsing around the room and landing.

5:30am Madmummy took the Hulk back to her room, in the vain hope of getting more shut eye. On the way, the Hulk started calling out to wake Jabbermonkey, but Madmummy dragged him away from his door before he was disturbed…or so she thought. She gave the Hulk her iphone to play on (how modern mum), closed her eyes and tried to relax.

6:05am  Just as she began to drift off, she was awoken by Jabbermonkey, who had come to join them. Madmummy enjoyed a snuggle with her precious children, but knew that sleep was no longer likely.

6:15am The boys started fighting over the Iphone

 

6:25am Madmummy’s window of sleep has passed.  She tells herself that two lots of 90 minute sleep cycles is more than sufficient for human survival. With the Hulk pulling her hand and the Jabbermonkey whining for porridge, she wrenched herself from the bed for the third and final time.

6:30 She made the boys’ breakfast. The Hulk shouted at her on several occasions; firstly because she dared to help him get the chairs out, then because she refused to allow him to squeeze the entire bottle of honey on his cornflakes and finally because he wanted to pick his own spoon from the drawer, even if it mean he ate his cereal with a Chinese soup spoon.

6:45 She washed up and made Hubbykins a coffee, then went upstairs to get herself dressed.

7:15am She made the boys toast and set them up in the living room, were they happily  watched Shrek 2 on Netflix. She then attempted to do a 15 minute workout, while dodging children and stopping intermittently to peel oranges and get yoghurt for them.

8:00am She went upstairs to get her makeup on and fetch the boys’ clothes. Meanwhile the Hulk decided to get every saucepan out and line them up on the sofa.

8:15am Jabbermonkey presented Madmummy with a caserole made from plastic eggs, sausages, vegetables and croissant. She dutifully pretended to eat it.

8:20am She got the Hulk dressed using lots of high pitched praising: “good boys for not scratching mummy’s face”…”Thank you for not kicking me in the chin, as I get your trousers on”.

8:35am She dressesd Jabbermonkey. She always leaves this until last, as he has a habit of rolling on the floor and getting his black trousers covered in white dog hairs. For a laugh Jabbrmonkey pretended to be asleep during that particular morning, and Madmummy struggled to get his gelatinous limbs into his school clothes.

8:40 Madmummy realised that time was running out, so got to work getting shoes and coats go on. Jabbermonkey requested that Madmumy eat her pudding, (a plastic steak that he believed was a chocolate brownie). Madmummy firmly declined and Jabbermonkey looked hurt. But she needed to start getting tough with both boys if they were going to get out on time. No more nice mummy.

8:45 The Hulk opened the front door and ran out to the car. He doesn’t respond to Madmummy’s calls to return.  She wouldn’t have minded so much and would usually lock up and follow. But on that particular morning she could not find her flipping keys! They were not in her bag…they were not in her coat pocket. Panic set in as Jabbermonkey ran off to the car without his jacket, trying in vain to get the Hulk to come back.

She rushed out to the car and barked at Jabbermonkey to go back to the house. She knew that no amount of coaxing and encouragement would work on the Hulk; once at the car it is time to go in his mind. There was no time to explain to him that she needed her keys to a)lock the house b) unlock the car and c) drive the car. There was no point in taking him by the hand, as he would have simply collapsed in protest. 

 Madmummy had no choice, she had to carry him back to the house. Summoning the strength of all female deities she lifted him. He fought her tooth and nail, (ouch). She clutched him closely, so that his scratching hands couldn’t reach her face, and his kicks and punches had less momentum.

8:50 Teh Hulk was placed down on the bottom step of the stairs. Madmummy looked again in her bag and her coat for the keys. She looked on all immediate work surfaces. She questioned both the boys about whether they had removed them from her bag. Jabbermonkey stated, unhelpfully, that the Hulk may have thrown them somewhere. Madmummy began to extend her search to the kitchen and upstairs. The words “you’re going to be late” started sounding in her frazzled mind and the anger began to rise. ‘Calm-and-collected-Madmummy’ had been replaced by a rampaging monster. In between expressing her anger and accusations to both boys, she tried to call Hubbykins, to see if he had seen them. She returned from upstairs to find Jabbermonkey in tears and she apologised for getting so cross at him.  Taking a breath, she looked down into her handbag…and then gave herself a imaginary face-palm. There in the inside pocket of her bag, were the sodding keys. Good-grief (and other stronger profanities) were uttered under her breath.

8:55  Madmummy opened the front door and the boys rushed to the car. Madmummy locked up and sprinted after. She strapped them into their car seats in record time, drove as quickly as was safe and parked as close to the school as was legal.

9:01am  Madmummy raced Jabbermonkey to the front reception, believing him to be late. The lady on the desk informed her that they are not late and directed them to go through the usual side gate.

9:10am   Madmummy sat in the car and breathed for 5 minutes. Jabbermonkey had been delivered to his class just in time.  She and the Hulk would soon be going to the stay and play session  starting in 5 minutes. She enjoyed the satisfaction that, despite the odds, they made it. She did, however, feel ashamed of her lack of grace and poise and painfully guilty about loosing her temper in front of the children.

10:00am The Hulk played well at the Stay and Play and used the toilet with no accidents. Madmummy was very happy that she no longer needs to carry a  potty in a carrier bag everywhere they go. Hurrah!

11:00am After Stay and Play they went for tea as Nanny C’s. Unfortunately the side gate was locked and the Hulk was dead against going through the front door. He screamed “NOO” loudly, as he pulled the gate door handle repeatedly.  Madmummy apologised to Nanny C for his behaviour.  The Hulk cannot abide change and we have never entered through the front door of nanny’s house before. So he decided to run back to the car and continued to scream. Once again, Madmummy had to carry his flailing form into the house. Once inside he forgot his anxiety and behaved fairly well during the visit. Madmummy sighed in despair, as she apologised again.

She has been told on several occasions by older mums that their teenage children are more difficult than when they were toddlers . “Wait until you have two teenage sons!”, they say. Madmummy cannot fathom how the mood swings of a pubescent teen could possibly be worse than the Hulk’s random fits of rage. She never knows what will set him off and struggles to figure out how to deal with them. But, as health visitors, play workers and family members have pointed, out he is a toddler. This is what toddlers do.

12:30pm  Madmummy and the Hulk returned home and she set about straightening out the mess created by her key-finding rampage that morning. Pots and pans were returned to the drawer and she made bolognese for dinner, while the Hulk watched Twirlywoos. She re-attached the curtains in the living room (they had been removed while she painted the radiator the previous evening).

2:00pm  Madmummy and the Hulk took a trip to the shops to buy more loo roll, dog food and washing detergent. There was the usual tantrum, as she forced him in to a trolley, and the usual back strain when she had to get him out. She then went to collect Jabbermonkey from school. Finding herself with 10 minutes to spare, as she was parked outside the school, she called Nanny B to confirm that she would soon be around to drop off the Hulk. This is something that she has been anxious about since she decided to arrange for Jabbermonkey to attend a gymnastics class after school. The Hulk is a clingy and stubborn child, and she knew that he was likely to protest loudly if he saw her leaving without him. She usually sneaks out, but he is always suspicious of her abandoning him in a new place, and will often clutch her hand and force her in a chair, where he can keep an eye on her.   Fortunately luck was on her side, as the Hulk had fallen asleep in his car seat. Just maybe she could carry him inside, drop him off and escape without any emotional anguish.

3:oopm  Jabbermonkey was picked up from school, full of energy and excited for his gymnastics class. He was instructed to be as quiet as a mouse, lest he awaken the Hulk. Once they arrived the Hulk was removed from the car and lugged to the door, where clever Nanny B had the front door open ready. Using all the strength within her core muscles Madmummy lowered the sleeping Hulk gently onto her sofa. Touchdown! Who needs Pilates!  Madmummy whispered “thank you” and “see you later” to Nanny C and escaped swiftly. 

3:30pm  Madmummy and Jabbermonkey returned home to change him out of his school clothes and into something sporty. Relieved that the Hulk was dropped off without a hitch she beamed, as she encouraged him to wear his spiderman top. Being lightweight, energetic and spry she has often envisioned him somersaulting and spinning from vaults and balance beams at some future Olympic games. This was his first Gymnastics class, his first step and she was very excited!

3:45pm Madmummy popped on to the computer to check the address of Kelly’s Dance Studio (for some reason her Iphone was not loading anything). A picture of a Dinosaur said “Oops, no internet and connection”. She tried her phone again…no wifi, no 3G…Nothing. She went to the router and could see that there was no blue light on. She assumed that the Hulk had pulled a wire or a plug out. She frantically followed wires and pushed in and out plugs. to no avail. She looked all around the router for a switch or loose cable and found nothing. Her addled mind managed to recall the name of the road “Heath End Lane”. She typed this into her phone…but there was no signal for Safari or Maps.  WHAT!! Madmummy started to turn once again into a monstrous beast. Jabbermonkey kept jumping around, happily chuntering and singing out of tune. She yelled at Jabbermonkey to be quiet, while she thinks what to do.

She tried to call Hubbykins, no answer. Then she tried to call Nana, no answer. The clock was ticking. She needed someone with an internet connection, who could look at a map and give her some idea of where she needed to go.  All the while Jabbermonkey kept saying “lets just go, let’s just go” in his usual jolly carefree tone. “WE CAN’T GO!! I DONT KNOW WHERE IT IS!!” Madmummy bellowed. Why?…why had she relied on technology? If only she had a map of Nuneaton!


3:55pm  In desperation she called on her next door neighbour. Mrs T thought she had come for the Avon book and went to look for it. Madmummy called after her to explain her plight as fast as she could. Mrs T kindly invited her in, and Jabbermonkey played hide and seek with her grandson. She loaded up her Ipad, but each attempt to find an address for Kelly’s dance studio brought up a dance class in  Kingston Upon Thames. At this point Madmummy was struggling to hold in her desperation. After weeks of researching dance groups and all the anticipation, she found it hard to cover the stress in her voice as she asked for the wifi password. Within seconds of having internet back on her Iphone Madmummy had screen dumped several map pages, and finally knew where she had to go!

4:05pm Madmummy drove as quick as she could, in rush hour traffic, and at 4:18pm she joined the end of a mighty traffic jam. Consulting her phone map, which now appeared to be working (!), she decided to take a short cut. She ignored the “no through road” signs and drove through the hospital car park, arriving on Health End Road at 4:23pm.

4:25pm Madmummy parked in the car park at Kelly’s dance studio! She told Jabbermonkey that they had arrived and he screeched with glee. At this point Madmummy took a moment to reflect on the joyous nature of Jabbermonkey. Feeling guilty once again, for her negative reaction to the situation, she wondered, “How did this little ray of sunshine ever come from me”. The Hulk is often grumpy, with bouts of uncontrollable rage, but Jabbermonkey has not inherited that trait. Even more so than Hubbikins, he is bright and upbeat throughout all the chaos. Madmummy took a moment to thank him for being so good during the mad half hour, and apologised for shouting. He forgave her wholeheartedly and they went in to Kelly’s Dance studio.

Mission Accomplished!

Madmummy spent the next two hours in the mummy waiting area, with nothing to do but contemplate her life. Her phone battery had lost all its charge and mums were not permitted to stay and watch. At 6:30pm she went downstairs to collect Jabbermonkey, who was remarkably still full of energy. She returned him to Nanny B’s, where she swapped him for the Hulk. Apparently he had been as good as gold. Upon her return home, Hubbykins asked if she had received his text “Do you want to treat us to a takeway?”. She had enough energy to be mildly annoyed that she waisted time in preparing the bolognese, but she agreed to treat them to Chinese. Hubbykins then points out that there is an on switch on the internet router….

Madmummy has gone Potty!

Madmumy would like to wish her readers a happy 2017! She would also like to apologise for the delay in writing a new blog post. As well as the usual manic routine featured in previous blogs, there have been 4 other events that have distracted Madmummy of late!

1. The big push on the Hulk’s potty training.
2. The big push on the Hulk’s talking.
3. Madmummy making the tricky decision to give up work.
4. Christmas!

All the above will likely feature in her new posts. She hopes to be able to post more
regularly thanks to point 3, which will provide new subjects to write about …such as what fresh insanity comes from being stay at home mum (she believes SAHM as the appropriate acronym)

But today, it is a time to reflect back on 2016, and the long potty training journey that she is finally coming to the end of. Those who have read the first few of her posts may recall another potty training post on 17th March 2016. During the post, titled “Wee wee in the potty“, she was full of pride at her achievement of getting the Hulk to finally wee in the potty. Little did she know that that was only the beginning of what was to be a very messy and stressful 10 month long battle.

After much sweat, tears and other bodily fluid, the Hulk is finally at the point she can say he is potty trained. Yes, accidents do still occur regularly, but more often than not the Hulk is clean and dry both day and night.As of 2 weeks ago he is in pants, and last night was the first night that the potty was not left in his room. Looking back she can see that there were several steps on the rickety staircase of his training. She smiles to think that, back in March, she thought the hard part was over. No…that was only the first step.

Madmummy has created a reflective account of the Hulk’s progression. It looks nothing like the potty training plan of the many books that purport to get a 12 month old potty trained in four days! Maybe it is a more realistic account of the potty training journey or perhaps it is an example of Madmummy’s ineptitude. Either way, if you are having a hard time with potty training, this surely will make you feel better.

Timeline of the Hulks potty Training

17th March 2016

• The Hulk’s first wee in the potty
• Madmummy foolishly thinks this means he will be fully potty trained within the next 2 weeks.
• Madmummy starts buying pull-up pants

March-May 2016

• The Hulk spends a few hours a day half naked.
• There are occasional wees and poos in the potty.
• There are countless accidents
• Madmummy tries to remain calm.

June-August 2016

• A warm summer allows the Hulk to spend most of his time half naked
• The potty is getting used more and more often.
• Madmummy is developing new ways to praise. Bubbles are a big feature.
• Jabbermonkey regularly informs Madmummy of any bladder and bowel movements that the Hulk makes and they are both rewarded with bubble partys (a bubble machine is installed in the livingroom)
• As a result of being stopped every 30 minutes Madmummy gets very little done
• Madmummy buys some pants – the Hulk doesn’t like them.
• She puts shorts on him – they get wetted

September-October 2016   THE HARD PART.

• Madmummy decides to get the Hulk to start wearing something on his bottom half to move onto the next step.
• At this point she tried putting pants on him – They all got wetted and/or soiled
• She tried putting him in trousers without pants – They all get wetted and/or soiled
• Gradually she starts getting him to take his trousers off and go on the potty but he rarely does anything.
• She tries putting him in the car seat without a nappy
• The car seat needs to be washed several times
• The Hulk wets his trousers 80-90% of the time

November 2015    THE REALLY HARD PART

• Madmummy decided that there would be no more nappies come what may
• The Hulk is forced to wear trousers and wets through several a day
• Madmummy buys more trousers
• The Hulk starts removing trousers before pooing, which is nice of him
• The Hulk has no nappy at bedtime and wet sheets most nights
• The washing machine breaks!!
• Madmummy has to handwash the trousers in the sink and the sheets in the bathtub
• Madmummy calls on family and neighbours to help with the mountains of washing.
• Jabbermonkey gets sick, Madmummy gets ill, the potty training and motherly duties continue (accept the laundry)
• Madmummy loses the will to live a little

1st – 15th December 2016

• Madmumy complaints about the delay in getting her washing machine replaced
• Beko replace her washing machine
• The Hulk has begun to take his trousers off before every wee and poo – horay!!
• Accidents still happen and the Hulk lives in jogging bottoms
• Madmummy buys Telly Tubby pants- the Hulk doesn’t like them and wets them when he has them on.
• Madmummy downloads an app with a virtual sticker chart, which helps.

15th -26th December 2016

• The Hulk has begun to pull his trousers down instead of removing them
• The Hulk has been on several short car journeys without accident
• He has slept overnight without a nappy at Nana’s house
• He still has accidents when upset, tired or distracted
• Nappies are removed from the change bag
• The Hulk has a major accident (poo) at a party, but generally is okay to go out without a nappy on
• The second potty is kept in the car and the Hulk has managed to use it in the boot!
• The Hulk has managed to use different pottys at relatives’ houses
• The Hulk wees all over Madmummy during their Christmas Day naps – yuk!

27th December 2016 – 8th January 2017

• Madmummy buys Paw Patrol pants and the Hulk agrees to wear them
• The Hulk manages to pull both trousers and pants down successfully and (usually) stays dry.
• The Hulk has had 3 dry sleepovers at Nana’s, Aunty Gs and Aunty Fs house!
• He still refuses to sit on the toilet.
• The Hulk starts to go upstairs to use the potty during the day
• Madmummy disinfects the living room floor for the last time
• On the 4th January he attends Pre-school for the first time and attempts to use their kiddy toilets. Madmummy tries to help and the Hulk wees all over her hand (nice) . Within the 1 hour session he gets through 3 pairs of trousers!
• Over the following 4 days he has a bit of a relapse, including 2 day time accidents
  (one which ran all down the hallway) and 2 wet nights.
• As of the 8th January the potty now stays in the toilet both day and night.
• That afternoon the Hulk manages to use a toilet for the first time. Madmummy had forgotten the potty and had forced him onto the public toilet 3 times before this joyous success.

Some of you who managed potty training with more grace a dignity may be smirking at the
above timeline. You may have been one of the many whose potty training journey wasn’t half a gruelling. In fact, Madmummy recalls that her experience with Jabbermonkey
wasn’t nearly so prolonged or stressful (although she may have blocked it from her memory, along with the pain of childbirth). But at this point she will point out that Jabbermonkey was already able to speak, before she began his potty training. The Hulk, on the other hand, has been entirely non-verbal.  He still doesn’t say the words “potty”, “wee” or “toilet”. He says “poopoo” occasionally, and in the last week has been able to mutter something that sounds like “accident”. So despite the lengthiness of the journey, Madmummy is proud to have finally “gotten there” with her wilful, change-aversive and silent son.
Now that she has survived the process she would like to offer some pearls of wisdom based on the many mistakes she made:

 

Madmummies 10 mistakes you should avoid when potty training 

1. DON’T BUY PULL UPS.

Looking back Madmummy can see that this was her biggest mistake. In doing so she gave her clever child two options.
Option 1) stop playing, go all the way over to the potty, pull pants down and bend down to sit on the potty. Then wait to do a wee or poo, pull pants and trousers back up before going back to play

Option 2) Cary on playing, do a wee/poo in the pull up and let mummy deal with it.

It’s a no-brainer really

2. DON’T BUY PULL UPS!!!

Madmummy really must stress the point that pull ups are a money making scam designed to inhibit successful potty training and keep kids in nappies longer! Okay, so maybe they have worked for some and you may be ready to come to their defence.
In the case of the Hulk, however, he did not use them for the purpose they are marketed for – ie Pull down and “Pull-Up”. He also began to associate all items that could “pull-up” as being waterproof. So, after she began putting trousers or
cotton pants on him, the Hulk just treated them as he would a pull-up nappy. After the first few days of mummy calmly changing his pants/trousers after every “accident” he gathered that this was the norm. He apparently felt no shame in weeing his pants within 5 minutes of coming off the potty (where Madmummy forced him to sit every 20-30 minutes).
Pull ups are sort of like stabilizers. They are comforting to have but won’t really teach you to ride a bike.

3. DON’T LEAVE A CHILD IN WET BOTTOMS

Madmummy read several website forums on potty training but this one stands out in particular. Some mum’s viewed it as cruel.  Others believed that children learn more quickly that potty is best, if they were left with a soggy bottom. Some reported that, having left there 2 year old with a wet trousers for a few hours, they miraculously started going to the potty and never had another accident again!
Madmummy tried this with the Hulk. (There isn’t much she didn’t try). However, the Hulk had no problem being wet all day and would rather be wet than bother going to the potty. Meanwhile, on the few occasions that Madmummy left him wet for over an hour, she was reduced to following him with the disinfectant wipes to clean wherever he sat!
If you are a mum taking on the challenge of potty training, Madmummy would suggest that once an accident is detected, you take your child to the potty at the earliest possibly opportunity.  If you are in the middle of something you may wish to leave them for a few minutes so they can sense the dampness, but there is no point leaving them wet on purpose for hours.

4. DON’T BE NEGATIVE – ACCENTUATE THE POSITIVE

This was the hardest part for Madmummy. Once the Hulk had mastered using his potty when half naked, she would giddily praise him after each success. But when it came time to put bottoms on, she was disappointed 90% of the time. The Hulk had no way to communicate his “needs” to Madmummy. He also didn’t have the will to pull his bottoms down himself – he had got into a nice routine, where mummy changed his wet pants after every wee or poo. It got to the point where she didn’t bother calling it an accident because it was the norm rather than the exception.

So she had begun to look into whether he should be punished for his purposeful cloth wetting. He clearly knew what to do when he had nothing on, so maybe he was just toying with his poor mum and exerting defiant behaviour. Either that or he was lazy. All manner of crazy thoughts popped into her mind, having been up twice in the night changing bedsheets and spending the morning hand washing his jogging bottoms.  Retrospectively Madmummy is ashamed to have thought this but its was desperate times and she felt she was stuck on a potty training plateau. Other mums on web-forums were unanimous that physical punishment was cruel and ineffective, and that shouting or negative comments should be avoided at all costs.
Many potty training guides stated that every wet or soiled item should be removed calmly, while the mum cheerily repeated phrases like “in the potty next time” and “never mind- accidents happen”. They also stressed that mums must go all out with the praise when their child used the potty. The trouble was, unless nude, the Hulk almost never used the potty. So what did she do?…

             **** MADMUMMY’S TOP SECRET POTTY TRAINING TIP!! *****

She began to praise the Hulk whenever he was wearing bottoms for 20 minutes without any “accidents”. Yes, every 20 minutes, instead of forcing him on the potty, she would point out his dry trousers and praise him for not wetting himself. It seemed silly at the time. BUT IT WORKED!!
So, if you too are struggling with a toddler who doesn’t go in the potty at all, try to praise them for NOT having an accident rather GOING in the potty. The Hulk started understanding that dry was good and wet, not so much. Of his own volition, he soon started taking his trousers down by himself. Yipeee!!

5. FORGET PANTS

Madmummy swapped and changed between pants and shorts and trousers. But the Hulk just wetted his pants all summer. By winter Madmummy decided that she had to push the Hulk to the next step by stopping nappies completely. So trousers were a necessity when going out and about. She tried with pants too, but this complicated the issue for two reasons.

1) because  puling both up and down was to difficult and a drag for the Hulk
2) due to the first two mistakes she made (getting Pull-ups) he seemed to get confused and think that he was still wearing something absorbent.

So Madmummy high recommends stocking up on the jogging bottoms (not jeans which can chafe and are tougher to pull down in a rush).

6. DON’T PLAN DAY TRIPS

By mid November the Hulk had been nappyless for 3 weeks and had made great progress. He was actually weeing and pooping in the potty the majority of the time and even went a couple of days and a nights without an accident . Unfortunately, a overnight stop in a hotel and a 5 hour journey demanded that the nappies go back on for the majority of the weekend. Despite Madmummy’s best efforts in taking the Hulk to the potty several times during the course of the day, he did regress a lot during the following week.

7. DON’T BREAK YOUR WASHING MACHINE!

Around the second week of the potty training Madmummy’s washing gave up the ghost with an almighty bang. Having been put on 2 times a day, washing bedding and trousers and the occasional rug, a belt had busted and taken out some electrical cables with it.
Luckily she was covered by the manufacturer’s warrantee, as it was less than 12 months old. Service Force was out within a week to diagnose the fault and order parts. After 2 weeks of waiting and two cancelled appointments, the parts were still not in. Madmummy decided to complain to Beko directly. After all, her previous Beko machine had survived 7 years, two newborns, one toddler and a house move. Not to mention having the transport bolts left in for the first 12 months of its life (she had wondered why it made such a racket and walked across the room). But now her 11 month old machine was beyond repair after just 2 weeks of moderately high use.

Within a week Madmummy had a new washing machine, free of charge. Although she had a happy ending she must stress that living without a washing machine for 2-3 weeks is difficult . Living without a washing machine when one child is potty training, and the other is vomiting all over his bed sheets, is hell on earth! So other mums would be advised to do one of 4 things before starting potty training.

• Save money to purchase a new washing machine if it breaks
• Make sure you are covered by a warrantee or insurance
• Find out your local laundrette in case you cant get it repaired quick
• Read the instruction on you washing machine and the labels of all the items you wish to wash, to ensure you are using it correctly. Not only will this prevent a breakdown, but also to prevent your insurance being invalid due to mis-use.

8 DON’T EXPECT YOUR CHILD TO FOLLOW THE RULES

 It’s a cliché, but it must be stressed that “every child is different”. In so many ways the Hulk did not follow the path that he should have .He was clean before he was dry, for example. He was also unable to tell her that he needed a wee.  Madmummy had to learn to trust him to go to the potty of his own accord. It turns out that he prefers to do many things independently and now insists that the bathroom door is closed and even empties his own potty! This can be  messy and Madmummy highly recommends purchasing some of these.

9 DON’T MESS ABOUT!

Buck up, rip off the bandage and say “no” to nappies .
In the case of the Hulk he needed strong encouragement.  On many MANY articles she has come across Madmummy has read the message that mums must wait until their child is ready. But sometimes the peer pressure is too much.
Before you judge, please imagine you are Madmummy. You have been patient all summer and endured 3 months of mopping up puddles, wiping up poop and washing trousers and/or pants. You have pretending not to be disappointed when, after stopping every 30 minutes to force a flailing toddler on the potty, he proceeds to wet his trousers within 10 minutes of you pulling them up again. Your child then turns 3 and has made no progress in 6 months. Winter is coming and soon there will be no option to go running around without trousers on. Potentially all the progress that has been made will be undone , as your child will get used to wearing nappies during the winter months. Your child may still be in nappies until next summer, and then he will be four and you will be a laughing stock! (Okay, that’s a tad over-the-top)

But Madmummy believes that a firm shove, rather than “gentle encouragement” was ultimately what her passive and chilled-out child needed. In fact the Hulk seems much happier in general since the success. Furthermore the skills Madmummy has developed on positive affirmation, and giving firm and clear instructions, can now be applied to other aspects of the Hulks development. And, from the experience, she has gotten to know the Hulk more as a person and has a better idea about how his little mind now works. (yeah, right). He has certainly proved to have a fiercely independent and stubborn nature- but then he is a Scorpio.

10 DON’T BE EMBARASED
Children will always embarrass their parents until the day when they are old enough to be embarrassed by their parents. One day Madmummy will have her revenge. She smiles as she imagines his 16th birthday, the lampposts with baby pictures tied on, the red lipstick kiss-mark on his forehead , his face when she tells his friends all her pet names for him – mwahahahaha.

Potty Training = accidents

All a mum can do is pray that soiling doesn’t occur when out and about. On the whole, this was the case for Madmummy. There was one particular occasion, but she has decided to cast into the pensive (Oooh, Harry Potter reference!)

Potty Training= Another item to carry

When it came to the “BIG PUSH”, the potty had to come everywhere. Madmummy quickly got over the embarrassment of carrying a turtle shaped potty in a carrier bag, everywhere she went. She got used to having to stop conversations every 30 minutes, to either praise the Hulk for being dry or rush him out to the loo for a a sit down or (if too late) a change.

On one occasion Madmummy was in the carpark of Toys r Us (who don’t have toilets apparently) and had to force the Hulk to wee in the potty in the boot of the car. She focused only on him, not looking to see if anyone was watching. After 2 hours trolling around for Christmas presents, she knew that he needed a wee. Every success helped him improve and every failure set him back. No amount of temporary embarrassment or shame was worth him wetting another pair of trousers and ruining his confidence. Luckilly the Hulk managed to do a wee in the potty and they got home without an accident. She feels no shame for making him wee in public, it would have been more shame if she had let her inhibitions foil his progress.

She recalls now that Jabbermonkey was made to squat near a bush on a fair few occasions, as she attempted to shield him from the view of passers by. All mums must accept that when they need to go they need to go. Yes, you can stay indoors for the first few weeks. However, unless you are a hermit who grows their own food, sooner or later you will need to venture out of the house. Yes, it did feel a bit wrong to Madmummy, pouring wee on the carpark of Toys ‘R’ Us, but that’s what had to be done. She urges all mums to do what must be done and remember…it will all be over soon! Hopefully sooner for you than for her

Lasagna disaster a la Madmummy

Once again fortune has smiled on Madmummy and the Hulk has decided to have a surprise early nap. This was Jabbermonkey’s first week at school and the mornings have been rushed and the days quiet. Having been to town, Madmummy had a few battles with a very stroppy Hulk. When it was time to return to the car he had been particularly contrary.

For reasons best known to himself he decided he needed to go into HSBC. When Madmummy had disagreed he had collapsed on the wet pavement. Madmummy’s back and joins have become increasingly creaky of late. So she decided to try the old trick of walking off (or pretending too). Predictably the Hulk was too smart for this, and continued to scream and bring attention to himself, and his villain of a mother. An elderly lady had inquired what he was “doing down there?” As if by magic, he was up and tottering to Madmummy’s open hand. Madmummy had uttered a thank you to the lady, and some lighthearted comment about how “he won’t listen to me, but anyone else…”. The Hulk had walked angelically back to the car. As soon as the lady was out of eye-shot, however, the “naughty” possessed him once more. He refused to come to the car.  Having finally coaxed him to climb in (as he has recently stopped allowing Madmummy to assist him in this) he lay on the floor, and refused to go in his seat. With stern words and physical force he was strapped in, and they returned home. Madmummy was all set to carry out the usual list of duties, while the Hulk had lunch.

However when she returned with his cream cheese crackers, she found him comatose on the sofa. Having not had a shower in 2 days, and at least 2 weeks since a bath, she decided to seize this opportunity and get the taps running. She now lays in the bath enjoying a cup of tea and listening to the wind and rain. She feels Autumn coming. Her addled brain happens upon a memory  of a particularly stressful day in the winter of last year.The luxury of a bath features in this tale, which she hopes readers will find amusing.   So now that she has finished the rather long preamble, she can go on to explain what the photo above is about.  It is a tale of the perils of multitasking and the virtues of perseverance.

Once upon a time, on the morning of  of 4th December 2015, Madmummy had been busily making her bolognese sauce to create a lasagna for dinner. She was full of he joys and anticipation of early December, and had decided to treat  her darling Hubbykin’s to his favorite dinner. During the process she had been interrupted by Jabbermonkey several times, as he required her assistance in making a crown. Whilst she had returned to the pot to stir in stock, he had  been so good as to help himself to the paints and even washed them up afterwards. Her heart full of warmth and a proud smile on her face, she had continued to created the white sauce, with the competency and poise a 1950s housewife. She then constructed the lasagna with the grace of Nigela Lawson.

Having tidied up the kitchen she had gone to the living room to check on the Hulk. She glanced at the clock. In an instant the magic was broken. The morning! Where had it ruddy gone!  The rhythm changed and her world shot into warp speed. Her brain processed that she had less than 1 hour to get the boys fed and dressed and to nursery school.

Having finished getting the last little shoe on the final little foot she had glanced at the clock and breathed a sigh. At quarter to twelve she had ample time to get to school if they left straight away. She opened the back door to let the dog in. Sensing that Madmummy was not feeling nearly challenged enough the husky proceeded to pee all over the kitchen floor. Madmummy allowed herself 3 seconds stare in disbelief and shout at the “damn mut”,  before she got to work with mopping it up. The Hulk was adamant that he would help, so the process was not particularly swift. Before she left she decided to put the lasagna in the oven to cook- after all she would be back in 20 minutes.

She now knows that was foolish and dangerous choice.  Having popped into a shop to pick up some milk she had returned to find the lasagna was burned to a crisp on the top. She decided that, rather than waste the perfectly good bottom half, she would peel off the burnt top layer and feed it to the dog (not that he deserved it).  The Hulk was happily playing in the living room. Madmummy  cleverly decided to par-cook the new lasagna sheets in boiling water. Unfortunately she did not ensure the sheets were spaced far enough apart and they fused together. Through gritted teeth she breathed “Never mind, try again”. She carefully lifted the floppy sheets out of the water, scalding her fingers a little, and  laid them on top of the brown meat sauce.

Full of enthusiasm and pride for her calm and logical actions, she began to make the white sauce for the second time. Having added the butter and flour the Hulk had come to her with an urgent requested. As the Hulk is non-verbal, a game of guessing and charades had ensued. Having finally guessed that the Hulk wanted some juice she grabbed the cordial and made some up. Unfortunately, having been distracted, her butter-flour mixture had burnt. To this day Madmummy doesn’t know what madness came over her next. She went ahead and added the milk that she had carefully measured.  Of course the bitty-mixture was not suitable for the purpose, and ended up poured down the sink. On automatic pilot now, Madmummy made the white sauce again. She mused that it was both lucky that she had purchased more milk and unfortunate.  Had she not, she would not now be making the sauce for the third time.  Having made the lasagna and cleaned up the dogs poo (he had courteously done in the garden) she returned to find the Hulk had fallen asleep.

Like today (ie 16 September 2016)  Madmummy had decided to utilise the opportunity and reward herself for her efforts. After the morning she’d had she deserved a quick bath. She only had 30 minutes and then would need to start getting the Hulk up to get Jabbermonkey from nursery. She did not want to risk the lasagne getting overcooked again, while she went to the school. So, having placed her lasagna in the oven and turned it on, she had set a timer on her phone. She would be alerted after 20 minutes and would return from her bath to find a golden brown delicious dish good enough for her king (ie: hubbykins). But when she returned to the oven after just 20 minutes, hair still wet, she found that the top was even blacker than the first time! Surely she was imagining this, this must be da ya vu. Her disbelief continued until she glanced at the oven dial. It was set to grill!

With less enthusiasm she removed the blackened top layer once  again. She boiled the kettle, laid the lasagna sheets in the dish, poured on the water. She got herself dressed for work and fought a very grumpy Hulk in to the pushchair. She had no time to manhandle him into his coat, so she grabbed it on the way out and hung it on the push chair.  She then jetted of to the school, collected Jabbermonkey and took the boys to their nanny’s house. During the journey, however,  Jabbermonkey had grown too tired to walk. Madmummy decided that he would have a turn in the pushchair and the Hulk could walk the last part of he journey. She also decided to use the opportunity to get the Hulk’s coat on. He was in total disagreement and collapsed on the pavement in protest. She glanced around and caught a few smirking faces. Madmummy’s back throbbed as she lifted the muddy, flailing child from the ground. Seeing that he was in full-sway rage and would not be co-operative  Jabbermonkey was made to get up from the push chair. Letting out audible grunts, and with her last ounce of strength, she lifted the Hulk back into the push chair and strapped him in. The screams of the Hulk carried across the streets as they continued the journey, but Madmummy was deep in stressful thoughts which muffled the sound.

Having dropped the boys off she sprinted home. With 20 minutes before she had to leave for work she gazed hopelessly at her topless lasagne. Her heart ached at the thought of throwing it in the bin. She had spent a big chunk of her day making the damn thing and the waste of food went against her deep set morals.  No! She would not be beaten.  As God was her witness there would be lasagna for her Hubbykins!   She melted butter, added flour, stirred in milk, sprinkled cheese and the fourth white sauce was made. Having added the soaked lasagne sheets, she added the sauce and grated the last morsel of cheese on top. She placed he dish on the oven shelf. She did NOT put the oven on. She did her makeup and walked swiftly to work. Yes indeed, after all that, she now needed to focus on her paid job.  She decided to send a text to instruct hubbykins to cook the lasagne for no more than 15 minutes, lest the meat become too dry.  At this point she realised that he had sent her a message earlier. The message read “Take out tonight?”.

And this was her response………….