My day

Okay, so I couldn't sleep last night (or tonight damn it!) and was up til 3am.  At 7am, DinnerDad had to drop the boys off early at the train, so got me up to deal with the insurance assessor from this little gem, our bathroom ceiling you may remember from this post:

Hell, at least I finally sorted something out about it, I guess I can move it off my Things I Let Slide list?  So anyhoo, I'm up, after a refreshing four hours sleep, have a short break before Lolly is up and at 'em (this was basically the good bit of my day).  I've got Snail home due to the 14 seizures she's had since Friday, she's wasted and I'm pretty sure having smaller seizures most of the night. 

The next paragraph contains lots of bodily functions.  Just sayin', in case you wanted to look away for a bit, maybe imagine some ponies.

Everyone is up late (not me, no sleep for me, no way hahahahaahahaahhaaa *manic laughter trailing off into insanity*), nappy change time.  I rip the first clean nappy (damn those soft fabric-y sides of the discrete pullups we get for Snail!), go get a second.  Can't find pants as ALL the washing is back in the baskets of doom, clean, but forever sentenced to stay in giant piles in my study.  Find pants after much cursing and rummaging and mess.  Change Lolly, too (I really hope toilet learning is close on the horizon for Lolly!!).  Shortly afterwards have to change Snail poop.  Ten minutes later, Snail's ever so recently clean nappy explosively leaks pee all over my new carpet.  Clean up pee, change Snail AGAIN.  This is her third pair of pants and she's only been up for about half an hour!  10 minutes later, have to change Lolly poop.  Sigh to myself and have small over it all moment.  As I reach maximum "sorry for myself, woe is me," Snail promptly has another seizure, rather considerately after her morning meds but before breakfast (which has been somewhat delayed due to all the nappies heretofore mentioned).  Snail passes out on the floor.  Lolly and I try to go about our day, can't go anywhere as Snail is too floppy and unconscious, that's cool, have a home day.  10 minutes in to the fifth *awesome* kid activity I really, truly, deeply, wish that I had had more than 4 hours sleep. 

Snail sits up.  Get her into her chair, rush breakfast into her.  It's 1pm, but hey, so what, it's not like the breakfast police are on patrol. *looks round nervously*  At the end of breakfast, Snail has another seizure.  Transfer her out of the chair onto the couch and put on TV.  Lolly remains interested in TV for 3, 2, 1...about that long.  Snail asleep crosslegged in a little ball on couch. 

I spend the rest of the day doing calls to CP and epilepsy service providers as we've been meaning to get reassessments on stuff, more therapy, and new orthotics, as well as another EEG and hip assessment.  Anyone who has had to make bunches of these calls knows just how awesome they are.  "Hi, my kid's really disabled.  Yup!  Disabled enough to get on that program you have to be really disabled to get on.  Sure, we can fill out ALL the forms.  Sure we can get our GP to sign that in triplicate with unicorn blood and fax it to three different government agencies so you can start to begin to maybe put us on a list of people who might get considered for mention at a meeting you're having next June for funding.  No worries! Thanks for that, I just love talking about it.  No, that isn't a dying parrot, it's my three year old demanding fizzy water and corn chips, but thanks for caring!" 

Get put on numerous waiting lists.  Curse stupid lack of funds for essential services.  Lolly spends this awesome time yelling instructions at me, asking for stuff, or crying.  [Disclaimer, without fail, everyone I talked to today was lovely, sympathetic, and helpful.  It's not their fault that they have no money, staff, or much flexibility.  These are some seriously awesome peeps doing a friggin hard job.  They rock.]

From here.

My dishwasher broke last night.  Oh yeah.  Discover we have extended warranty that is still current.  Do happy dance.  Call.  No service providers for that brand in the whole friggin city and surrounds.  Woman on phone suggests I may have to load the dishwasher in my car and drive it to the registered service provider, some 2 hours from where I live.  Yup, she was serious.  I pull out the big guns, "I have three kids, one is in a wheelchair, and one is three.  I am just NOT DOING THAT."  I happen to mention that I had a google search in front of me, and there is a service company about 10 minutes from my house, and why the fuck can't they do it?  But nicer.  And I didn't say fuck.  [I'm pretty sure].  She calls the company and they are "getting back to me." Not her fault, but still...seriously!!??  Oh, and no one got back to me. 

Day continues, DinnerDad thought he could manage a work from home afternoon, but couldn't, gets home relatively early, we try to sort a feindishly complicated plan for me to get a break this weekend.  This is how:  I'm going to fly self and smallest kid to Melbourne, driving to for 2 and a half hours in a hire car, to staying in a caravan park near my MUM (she's capitalised due to pure AWESOMENESS) - my parents are away on a big trip and aren't back til July and WE MISS THEM!!  My MUM loves Lolly, and the feeling is totally mutual (Lolly has been pretty sure that every time we get in our car since Mum left, that we are going to see NANNA!  She is often disappointed) and I figure I will get a couple of hours off to sit quietly by myself.  That's pretty much the extent of my ambitions these days.  Quiet alone sitting.  Bliss. 

Lolly and Nanna last time we went "caravan-ing" with them!

Oh and I had forgotten that I was booked to do a parent information session at the Montessori School tonight at 6.30pm, and you have to have done it before your kid can start, so I had to go, nearly fell asleep on the drive there, (the session was just awesome, so that was a good bit of today), drive home at 9pm (about an hour after I thought, and having heard the yodels of upset down the phone from Lolster), get home, get jumped on by the kid, get her to sleep at 10.15, do every bit of fucking washing up in the friggin known universe, I kid you not, it took me an HOUR to wash up!!! Next time I'm gunna do this, but to the dishes. With that same slightly crazed expression on my face.  But with considerably more waist.

You know, this day reminds me of another day I wrote about here.  It had poo in it, too. 

So, how was your day?

The Glamour of Parenting

Here was my afternoon: I got home literally as the bus brought Snail home. I wheel her in with a sooky 2 year old who has just woken up. I let the dogs in. I wonder what the hell that stuff is Mr B is eating. Turns out it's cat shit. The cat has shat on my new red rug. And Mr B has eaten it. I clean up the remaining cat shit. L is crying for boob. I give boob. And then "other booby". Some more boob. Make snacks and drinks. Give snacks and drinks to chidlers while fending off dogs. Watch Ice Age 2 *again*. Surf net for a bit while trying not to let the Lolster empty her water on my laptop *again*. More boob. Fend off Snail with my foot while she has jealous rage about the boobing. Realise I have to go get Smash from his bus after soccer practice. Go to get Snail in chair. Realise she has a poo. While going to get a nappy for her, step in the giant piss that Mr B has done in my hallway, despite the back door being OPEN. Get nappy, fight with Snail to change poo. Get poo on my hands and Snail's foot. Swear some more. Clean up. Realise I need new pants for Snail. Go to get pants and slip in dog wee again. Get pants. Put on kid. Put old towel on dog wee. Put kid in wheelchair, while she's holding the world's biggest toy because apparently putting it down is made of horror. Wheel kid and escort toddler to car. Load in car (still holding toy). Park chair. Get Smash. Come home. Load kid in chair (toy). Escort toddler and wheel kid upstairs. Unload (toy some more). Put Ice Age back on as I have to cook tea. Listen to the crying coz it's not Blue's Clues. Put on Blue's Clues and listen to the crying coz it's not Ice Age. Decide which crying is worse. Put Ice Age back on. Cook dinner. Wrestle kids. DinnerDad gets home. Eat dinner, DinnerDad does baths, try to watch Masterchef over the yells and enthusiastic ballon wrestling being done by all three kids. DinnerDad takes Snail to bed. Balloon wrestle with toddler til after 9pm. Take toddler to bed. Give 9 different sides of boob to toddler before she FINALLY goes to sleep. come out and fail to (apparently) divide pie accurately and add icecream. Yell at husband. Eat pie. Write in blog. Just another day *doing nothing*.

:D