A Journey

5.30am alarm.  Pop down for a quick shower.  Pickle is awake.  Last night he was feverish and he has not had enough sleep.  I cuddle him for a few precious moments and persuade him to drift off.  Quick shower and out the door.  Drive to a station about 30 minutes from home.  Lose £1.50 in the Pay & Display machine.  Give in and pay for parking by phone.  I am, of course, early.  Collect tickets and wait for train.  Arrives on time and for the first leg of my journey I relive the first 6 months of the year in the text messages that are on my phone.  Lots of good wishes, some cryptic and amusing messages from my 'bossfriend' and some sad ones from close friends who are going through IVF. 

Second leg - disappointing pain au chocolat and milky, milky tea.  Reading The Age of Innocence that my bossfriend bought me for Christmas to encourage my appreciation of classic literature.  Took me a while to get into it but I am now really enjoying it - hoping to finish it on this journey with no little people to interrupt.  Occassionally my mind strays back to work.  I spend a few minutes contemplating a loyalty proposition and then go back to gazing out the window.

I find this type of journey quite liberating in a 'I could go anywhere' kind of way.  Today I am a Mum but I'm not being a Mum and I'm not doing what I do every day I go to work.  No one here knows who I am.  I think I am proud of who I am but I also like the idea of maybe being someone else just for a day.  I wonder about the people around me.  I dream about where I could get off the train, where could I go?  York?  Glasgow?

The reality of my day ahead? I am visiting a call centre and meeting up with one of my team who is underperforming.  She's a lovely lady - in my opinion, she's in the wrong job. She'd be fantastic in another job and happier, I think. I would like for her to see that without feeling she is failing. Easy to say I know. Last time we met, we had a difficult review and I am apprehensive about meeting up today.

Third leg - I cry.  Eventually, if I spend enough time on my own, it is almost inevitable I will cry.  I don't think that's a bad thing at all.  It means I am actually feeling.  I am not numb.  I am not overly accepting.  I am still sad.  I miss my son.  It has been almost 3 years since he died and I wish he was here.  I am human.

9.52am, I arrive.  I am calm.

Pickle's early views on reincarnation

So Pickle told me yesterday that I had a baby in my tummy.  I've put on a few pounds in the last few weeks but I don't think it's that bad.  I tell him we're not having any more babies.  He says it doesn't have to be a new baby.  That we can have Alex again and he can come back. He thinks that's a great idea.  I tell him it doesn't work like that.  He knows that but thinks on...

"Alex is in your heart Mummy and he can't move because he is disabled but Nan is in there too and she can move so she can push Alex out into your tummy and then he can come back."  As always, I am loving his logic.  I tell him it doesn't work like that.  He knows that but thinks on...

"If Alex was in our throat then we could be sick and he could come back".  I tell him it doesn't work like that.  He knows that.

Flying solo

I quite literally managed to fly solo.  Well, I say that, I wasn't actually piloting the plane.  But I did fly from Luton to Belfast alone, managing to leave my children behind without leaving any notes (or posts) saying how much I loved them in the event of my death.  I did ask one friend if she'd stay in touch with the boys if something did happen but only because I wanted her to know that I'd like her to.  I realise to any frequent flyers this is a touch melodramatic, even my former (pre-kids) self who has happily(ish) flown to Australia alone, realises this - nonetheless I was pretty proud of myself.  Also glad it's over. 

Life has been reasonably hectic lately.  Working a bit too hard (although feeling like I'm not doing quite enough), seeing lots of friends, writing a charity newsletter for http://www.specialkidsintheuk.org/ and trying to be a good Mum and a good enough wife.  Think I'm just about holding it together.     

Iguanas love bananas (and other Mexican tales)

Our holiday to Mexico was hot and very humid.  My husband doesn't really like hot holidays.  To be honest we wouldn't have chosen to go there if it hadn't been for my niece's wedding.  I promised her years ago that I'd go to her wedding anywhere in the world and I do like to keep a promise.

I wonder if we'd have gone if Monkey had still been with us.  I don't think we would have done.  I think I would have used him as my excuse not to fly.  It would have been difficult.  Organising medical supplies and special seating arrangements.  The threat of last minute illnesses meaning we couldn't go.  I think I would have found it all too stressful (and conveniently so).  I know (although only virtually) a lady who happily packs up her 2 beautiful daughters with a range of complex health issues and I am a little ashamed.  Most things are possible if you want them enough. 

However, although my motives may not have been pure, with hindsight, I think it would have been the right decision.  It was a long flight and uncomfortably hot most of the time.  The swimming pool would have been Monkey friendly and there would have been some new experiences; sounds and smells and the Mexican people were lovely.  Ultimately though, I think it would have put too much stress on us as a family. 

There's a pressure when you go on holiday that you have to have a great time.  Even without Monkey complications, this was not always possible.  Did I mention husband hated the heat?  Pickle and Wotsit played up occassionally, in a very normal nearly 2 and 3 an a 1/2 year old kind of way, and we disagreed about how to respond.  The music by the pool was loud and the holiday was a little Ibiza-esque at times.  Throw in sickness, diorrhoea, epilepsy and sleepless nights and it would, understandably, have been quite tough and less of a break from day to day routines and difficulties.  I think we'd have stayed closer to home and had shorter breaks.  That would have been fine for me.  And the boys for a long while.  But I thnk there could have been some resentment about not being able to do things as readily as other families. 

I think about this because it makes me cherish our freedom, our ability to do things on the spur of the moment and to realise how lucky we are.  Don't get me wrong, I would give up this freedom for one more day with Monkey but, hey, that's not possible.

So how was Mexico?  I don't know!  I feel a bit of a fraud in that we have visited Mexico but not really seen Mexico.  The hotel was all inclusive and the holiday expensive.  Day trips were even more expensive so we only managed one.  Sitting still is not a family strength.

All that said, we had a great time.  We spent a chunk of time together.  I got to see my niece get married (she looked stunning) and got to know, and love, her new husband.  Wotsit started to talk A LOT (also chipped his tooth in the swimming pool) and Pickle's swimming came on leaps and bounds.  As a result of sharing a room Pickle's heffalump Lumpy is now called Humpy - who knew little boys could be quite so amorous!  And my husband was definitely jealous that his son was having more fun than he was.

We also learnt that, when looking at Mayan ruins (our one cultural trip), the only thing worse than being frazzled in the sun, is being viciously attacked by mosquitos in the shade.  To distract the boys from the heat and the mossies, I decied to give them some fruit (food never fails to distract in our house).  And that is when I learnt that Iguanas love bananas. 

Off we go to Mexico (no valium required)

Actually, we're back but I wanted to write about the build up...

I've mentioned before my fear of flying.  I was doing quite well and wasn't too apprehensive this time.  I had some herbal sweets that were meant to calm me and my friend had given me some of her valium which she'd got from the docs for an upcoming flight to Spain (clearly not advocating sharing perscriptions but didn't see the harm).  My husband knew that I was very unlikely to take them but I gave him permission (I'm surprised he didn't make me sign some kind of consent in advance to absolve him of all responsibility) to administer them if it became necessary (in much the same way he'd give the cat her worm tablets).  

We were leaving on a Thursday and I had everything packed on the Sunday.  This is out of character.  Very out of character.  My preferred state is, in many aspects of my life, to be a little bit out of control and last minute.  However, I have to say, this level of organisation was definitely a key factor in keeping me calm.

My last day at work on the Tuesday and I worked until late so everyone said 'Bye, have a nice holiday' as they were leaving.  This started my nerves a little and I reacted in a way that may have been more appropriate if they'd said 'It's been nice knowing you'.

On the Wednesday I was in sole charge of the little people and had to take the cat to the cattery and do a few last minute bits before driving to the Grandparents who were taking us to the airport the following day.  And then I started to feel sick.  It dawned on me that I was leaving Monkey behind.  I realise this is reasonably ridiculous and we have been on holiday since he died and I hadn't felt like this before.  I think it was to do with the flight.  Anyway, we cut some flowers from the garden and I wrote a little note and we stopped at the church and dropped them off.  I can't remember exactly what I wrote but I think Pickle captured it when a week later he was pretending to write on the wall of the swimming pool 'Dear Alex, I still love you but I am in Mexico'.  Think that pretty much summed up my thoughts.

So, how was the flight?  We flew with my youngest niece (21).  It was the first time she'd flown without her Mum and she was a little bit apprehensive.  I took charge, maintained an air of calm, my children were the best behaved children on the flight (although they slipped down a place or two on the return journey) and it was uneventful - no valium required. 

The jokes get better

Mummy, when is a door not a door?
Pickle's punchline:  When it's a jam pot.

Like his Daddy in every way except his ability to tell jokes, which he gets from his Mummy.

Tipping Point

One thousand and five days you were here
One thousand and five days you've been gone
I knew I would mark this day, if only in thought
I worked out when it would come

It has been taunting me and now it is here
A day that means something and nothing, yet something
This is the tipping point
And I don't like it.