Busy Bees!

The day before yesterday I put our daughter in her pushchair and trundled her down the road to the clinic about a mile away. She has put on 2lbs 6ozs since birth, if my maths are right, and now weighs 8lbs 1oz! Wow! Our little girl is getting to be a big girl.


She’s had a bit of a croaky voice the last couple of mornings and a slightly raised temperature early in the day, so I mentioned that and they thought that it was over-exercised vocal chords(!) but said that I could take her to the doctor, so I did on the way home. The receptionist said that the earliest appointment with ours was in 2 hours’ time and wouldn’t let us see anyone else sooner (“Oh, they won’t see each other’s patients”). I said that I’d wait as I didn’t have transport, and if she was ill I didn’t want to bounce her over the rough pavements all the way home and then back again an hour later and then back home again.
The receptionist was horrified. “What if she needs feeding?” she wanted to know, aghast. I told her that I had some with me – I never go anywhere with her without a bottle of something in case she needs feeding while we’re walking about with nowhere to sit so breastfeeding would be difficult, and have started taking cooled, boiled water with us as well now. (Anyway, I could have breastfed her in the waiting room, but the formula has to be used up within a certain time so I’d have used that first.) She couldn’t argue with that and we sat in a corner of the waiting room. K did wake up and asked for food so I gave her the bottle and she fell asleep halfway through, and I sat there cuddling her quietly.
After half an hour of waiting, suddenly the doctor called our name! He was running early, had seen us on the list on his computer and decided to fill the next slot with us instead of making us wait for another hour and a half. I was so glad that I hadn’t traipsed all the way home with her. 
He used his little stethoscope and listened to her chest while she stared at him with big eyes. “Hello, You!” he said, and she croaked one of her happy squealing noises at him in reply. He took her temperature and that was fine; her lungs were clear too so that was reassuring. He said that it could be the start of a cough/cold, but if it was there was nothing she could have at her age to help except food, water and cuddles as I had been doing.  But his opinion was also that she had over-exercised her vocal chords.
So we came out into the sunshine and raided Morrisons for, I’m sorry to say, more biscuits – well I have lots of visitors coming today is my excuse – butter, tortilla wraps (to put cottage cheese & pineapple in) and some moisturiser. Here, what do you think of this for deceitful packaging??  Stone the crows and swizzo, as my Dad’s Mum used to say.  I’ve a good mind to take it back, but I wanted to try it.  At £14.91 it had better be good, that’s all I can say, or it will be the last time I buy it.  I’ve just put some on and it feels a bit gloopy and heavy, so I dread to think what the night cream version is like.  So I hope that it IS renewing my cells, or there’ll be trouble!
The box mostly contained folded empty cardboard bits top and bottom to raise it up and keep it in the middle, cunningly concealed from the outside.
Maybe I should start up a "Disgraceful Packaging" website and ask people to submit photos of other examples, so that the companies can be named and shamed – when I got home I discovered that some of the biscuits were packaged in terribly wasteful plastic packaging that is non-recyclable and had to go into the dustbin.  Cardboard would have been quite sufficient.  They might taste nice (they do) but I won’t be buying them again.
Back home past some retired people I know; I used to work with the husband and their car was in the drive so I thought I’d ring their bell just to introduce them to K. They had their neighbours round in the garden for coffee, so poured me a cold drink and we sat in the garden in the shade and K had more cuddles and was the recipient of lots more remarks on her gorgeousness! 
Back home at lunchtime, and she was fast asleep in her pushchair so I made myself something to eat for lunch. Not all the biscuits would fit into the barrel so I had to eat those, oh dear. R had asked me to ask his Mum round to help with the ironing; I rang her at about 3pm and asked if she’d come and cuddle K for a while (I planned to do the ironing). She’d been busy in the garden so said she’d come round after she’d had a rest.
One of our archaeological group members, who is leaving the group for personal reasons, came to drop off some record cards and maps to pass on to our archaeological director next time we see him.
Then a friend paid us a visit, just in time to hold K while I hung out some washing! It was lovely to see her, and she was selling some items that her son had grown out of, and was offering me first refusal which I accepted and duly bought a Bumbo and a playpen, and she gave us some stairgates, all of which will come in really useful once K starts to become more mobile.
R’s Mum came and took over the cuddling duties while I did some ironing. She stayed for tea (pizza, hooray, my favourite!) – oh, I must digress for a while here. We used to live in Staplehurst, Kent, within walking distance of a garage where they made pizza as a sideline and you could choose the toppings of your choice, and they’d put Richard’s choices on one side and my choices on the other. He’s have the Meat Feast type and I always had sweetcorn, mushroom and pineapple. Their cheese & chive dip was superb and their barbecue dip was out of this world – I could have eaten it with a spoon – and the pizzas were the best I have had anywhere, even better than any I’ve had in pizza parlours in the USA, and that’s saying something. We used to pick up a “Garage Pizza” every Monday night for tea, after I’d been to my WeightWatchers weigh-in! It was a celebration if I’d lost and a consolation if I’d gained. I used to phone them up as I left the hall to order them so they’d be ready for collection as we arrived. They soon got to know us and one day gave us a huge carton of barbecue dip free, as we were such regular customers! Then sadly after about 2 years they closed that side of the business down and shortly after that the garage changed hands and sold hot pies instead. Not the same! I’ve never had such good pizzas since.
Anyway, where was I?
K still had a bit of a croaky throat yesterday but seemed fine otherwise and was eating well. As it was my birthday my Mum and Dad came for the morning, then two best mates from 12 until 2, then my SIL at 3-ish after her eldest daughter’s sports day, then two archaeological group people at 4 or 4.30 – not for my birthday, because they don’t know about that; they had an appointment at a Britelite windows place nearby and called in on their way back to Medway – then my brother and J came during the evening. I think that I’ve remembered everybody …
Mum and I choose a pretty dress for K to wear. They’ve only seen her in bodysuits and sleepsuits up until now, and as she has some pretty dresses that she’ll soon have grown out of I wanted them to see her in at least one of them.
R bought me a card from K, which says on the front “To My Mummy – I may be small …”, and inside says “but I love you really BIG!” it made me cry. The card he bought me from himself has words that talk about the fact that I stole his heart and have made him happier than he ever thought he’d be – that made me cry as well! Silly old softie me!
More photos soon.

About Linda Weeks

About my life with the daughter I thought I'd never have - but I did, thanks to a wonderful anonymous egg donor, to whom I will be forever grateful. xx
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s