Oh Tarly :-(

weekend roundup time…

Saturday – Ady’s birthday. 🙂 I got up with the children, Tarly first at 6am and we sat together and wrote out ‘To Daddy, Love Scarlett’, which she did really nicely 🙂 We assembled her card and I wrote my poem out for Ady, we wrapped his presents up together and I cleared up the tip that was the kitchen after using every saucepan in the room for curry, rice, popadums, bombay potatoe, nan bread curry the night before. Ady got up around 9am ish and opened his presents and oohed and ahhed over his cards. I’d got him a V slicer (his request :roll:), The De Vinci Code book and a Pompey top (away strip). We also got him a box of chocolates and a lottery ticket (potentially the best gift ever 😉 have not checked it yet actually)

Then we packed a picnic and my parents arrived and we all headed off to Bentley for the day. We had a lovely day feeding birds, enjoying the pretty surroundings, going on the train, walking through the bluebells, playing on the playground and inspired by Lije’s football playing Davies had brought a football along which Dad took great delight in kicking about with the children. In his youth he had been talent spotted to play for Wrexham but his Dad had refused to let him go to the final trials (no idea why? waste of his ‘excellent brain’ I believe, which has of course been put to far better use during his long career as a painter and decorator! :roll:). I think having been teasing me about how crap I will be at camping to be teased back about being elderly and having more respect for me as I will be the one choosing his retirement home soon he wanted to prove he’s still ‘got it!’ (just like at Longleat last year :-D)

Unfortunately Tarly had inadvertantly had a face off with a very aggressive male swan protecting his mate and her eggs, she’d kept going towards it wanting to pet it without realising that lowering its head, straightening it’s neck and bringing it’s wings up was fairly clear body language to stop advancing and got bitten quite nastily on the back of her leg 🙁

Poor baby, she’s very brave is Tarly so you know when she screams it really hurts. So ten minutes recovering from the ‘swan attack’ when she went flying and started screaming again I knew before even checking for damage there would be blood – and there was, both knees, scuff on on one hand and damage all up the other arm. Piggy back the rest of the way and picnic followed by train ride soon cheered her up though, as I say she’s pretty brave. Did ponder on what the third thing might be though…

We left there about 4pm as my Granny was coming over at 5 to see Ady and share in the birthday cake eating.

Cake consumed (and much praised :oops:) the children had a bath and went off to bed. Davies complained on getting out of the bath that he was itching and literally before my very eyes he started to develop hives and a rash, starting on his torso and working up his neck, down his thighs and across his arms and face. His ears swelled right up and went bright red. I gave him some piriton and smeared him in Euradex which seemed to stop the itching and decided we’d see how he was today. Both of them have previosly had unexplained rashes – Tarly’s was very bad when she was about 1 year old and I did take her to the doctors but it was never diagnosed as anything other than an allergic reaction and treated with anti-histimines. Davies had one last year which cleared up in 24 hours and as my GP/A&E policy for me and the children is very ‘last resort’ I’m disinclined to bother unless it is lengthy or they are in great distress.

Today he has varied with it flaring up and down, but seemingly controlled slightly by more piriton with him fine in himself, so I’m unworried. I think it is very likely a reaction to the cut grass he rolled around in while playing football actually, as he suffers with hayfever and has done so since pre-1 year old so to me it stands to reason he might have a contact skin reaction too (or I could be talking utter bollocks!).

Granny left around 11pm, followed not too long after by my parents and that was Ady’s birthday.

Today the weather has been altogether less nice although it’s ended up a nice evening. We went over to Chris and Julie’s for a barbecue via the local to them car boot sale. We found nothing but the very last stall before we left was giving away the books for free so I picked up a stack of real 60s/70s children’s books, the sort I had as a child both for nostalgia and reading to the children. 🙂

A nice time at Chris and Julie’s although Scarlett fell off the climbing frame but then along came her real third and I hope final injury when a mass collision between her, Davies and Jack happened. Not entirely sure what happened but I am assuming it was Jack’s teeth which sank into her chin giving her an impressive and gushing blood wound to the chin and making her shriek with pain while leaking blood everywhere… A quick clean up revealed a definite hospital visit injury according to Ady so off we dashed.

Once I’d ascertained that she was basically alright and although it was a fairly big and deep gash I started to fret rather at the condition of us to be going to hospital. I know this sounds crazy and of course if she’d been very seriously injured it wouldn’t have even crossed my mind but I know how people can judge and there we were, children filthy with mud and sand and grass stains, matted hair, old clothes (which I always put on them when we go to C&J’s) Davies covered in his rash which had flared back up again (probably giving weight to my grass allergy theory actually), Tarly with her Hesfes hoodie on. We’d just been saying ‘how Home Educated’ they were all looking. So I took the hoodie off her, put shoes on her and got Ady to drop us off at A&E, take Davies to my parents and then come back rather than us all going in.

Which was just as well as we were there for two and a half hours so Davies was far better with my parents anyway. We read every book in the waiting room, swapped stories with the other two people in the children’s area, Scarlett, apart from still dripping the odd bit of blood from her chin had utterly forgotten why we were there and seemed totally fine to the point of me wondering if actually we should’t just go home and put a plaster on it (like I say, I hate the possibilty of overreacting almost more than not reacting enough somehow). But when we got called in the doctor took one look at it and sent for the nurse to give stitches and said it was a very nasty cut – allowing Ady the smug ‘told you so’ look ;-).

I don’t remember the last time I was so proud or felt so maternally tugged at than watching my brave little baby lie back, screw her eyes up and barely flinch as they pulled it wide open to clean it up, put an anaesthetic injection right into it and then sew it altogether. My knees were very wobbly, but she simply clutched my hand as tight as she could, had a quick restorative cuddle inbetween the injection and the stiches and listen to my lighthearted commentary about how she was being sewn back together with a needle and thread like I sewed her Totty and Davies’ Wallace toys. She even peeked at the thread to see. The nurses were so in awe of her she got a whole sheet of stickers rather than just choosing one, upon which she pronounced she was going to share them with Davies and she couldn’t wait to show Davies her stitches cos ‘he won’t believe his eyes, I’ve never been stitch-ded before’. Now I am not remotely squeamish about blood, broken bones or other injuries but somehow I have real issues with surgical procedures. When I was pregnant I worried more about the prospect of an episiotomy or needing stitches than any other part of the labour and birth. I idea of deliberate cutting of skin or popping it with a needle even when I know it is being done to heal and aid just makes my knees go all wobbly and feel queasy. Which probably made me even prouder of her if that’s possible.

We went back to collect Davies from my parents, for Tarly to show off her stitches and have restorative tea and cake before heading home. Both asleep long before 7pm tonight and we have roast dinner waiting.