I’ve wanted to blog, believe me I have.  It’s not for want of ‘material’ (please do not think that saying that in any way makes me a ‘writer’ type) – my head is full of stuff, some of which is bloggable, some of which should not be committed to the public domain.  The thing is, with blogging, when the words come out of my fingers, they do so with honesty and truth and there are things whizzing around my head that I think I need to keep happily compartmentalised, safely out the way of active thought – for fear of them coming to the forefront of my mind and requiring dealing with, which, to be honest, I’m not sure I have the time or energy to do.

I knew when I wrote before Christmas that the beginning of 2013 was going to be tough.  I hadn’t factored in the evil aftermath of the sinusitis (tired, tearful, tired… did I say tired??) and a particularly nasty bout of strep throat over New Year but sometimes you just have to get on with things and get on I have.

The Sealion Keeper had her tonsils out 8 days ago.  She’s followed the text book recovery – much improved over the first five days followed by increased and debilitating pain for the next 2-3 days.  I’ve been up dosing her 3 times during the last 2 nights and she has been trying so hard to eat the right foods (that’s toast, crisps and other crunchy stuff, not jelly and ice-cream although that’s been included too).  Due to her risk of bleeding she’s not allowed anti-inflammatory drugs (nurofen etc) so she’s on codeine – on a stronger dose than they give to adults at times.   Keeping her hydrated has been a real challenge.

This morning as she lay in bed on a soggy pillow (she wasn’t swallowing her saliva in her sleep and crying) she looked up and said “Mummy, I’ve run out of brave”.  It breaks my heart.  I gather myself together and go for the whole upbeat “well they’ve gone forever now and no more sore tonsils” line but it’s not cutting it quite so well with her now.  She’s clung to me – the trauma of waking up in Recovery without your mummy has hit her hard, let alone waking up in pain because she hadn’t been given the right pain medication.

Her brother has somewhat upped the ante on the behaviour front too – a bad attack of the green eyed jealousy monster has resulted in incidents that have tested me to extents I didn’t know existed.  And then he got moved up groups in reading, literacy, phonics and was reported to be doing incredibly well back at school – so I then needed to be livid and proud at the same time.  Cue further implosion of mind.  Oh, and then he had another nosebleed.

As I sat and fed her some dinner this evening (she’s 7, I had to feed her) we reached the point where I can see that she may just be beginning to feel better.  She drank a whole half mug of milk this evening.  She’s been asleep for 2 and a half hours without crying.  Fingers crossed.

You see on Tuesday I tear my family apart again as my operation, scheduled for the beginning of February is now on Tuesday.  I will take them to school on Tuesday morning, kissing them goodbye knowing that I won’t be there to tuck them up for bed that evening.  And maybe the following evening too.

My beautiful children who are so unsettled, craving security and as many mummy cuddles as I can dish out are going to have to be juggled and passed from kindly soul to kindly soul as my recovery takes its course.  It’s really hard to explain that my operation is hopefully going to to give me back the feeling in my fingers.  You can’t show sensation to a child – although the Sealion Keeper seems to understand it to some extent.  It’s a big operation with a very big incision, the mummy cuddles are going to have to be very one handed for a while at a time when they’re needed in abundance.  Their stocks of brave, already low, are going to have to be rekindled by whatever means I can.