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This post isn't about 'losing Monkey' but 'losing monkey'. We went to the doctors today to sort out Pickle's hayfever medicine and to have booster Hep A injections. To be brave Pickle wanted to wear his medal (which he got when he ran a mile) and Wotsit wanted to take monkey (Wotsit's not attached to any particularly cuddly toy, he just happened to choose monkey).
Lower case 'monkey' was bought at Cape Point by Monkey's Aunt and Uncle when he was 11 months old and we visited them when they were living in South Africa for a year. He has arms that get longer as his legs get shorter and vice versa and velcro so you can attach him to things. So, whilst Monkey may not necessarily have been attached to monkey, monkey was often attached to him. He was always in Monkey's bed and came to hospital when Monkey was poorly. When Monkey died, Sherbet (a purple zebra) and Goodnight Bear were tucked up in his coffin but I couldn't let monkey go.
So, the hayfever appointment was first - all sorted - and we rushed to the post office to post Grandma's birthday card and buy sweets just in case the injections were traumatic. On the way, we realised we'd left monkey with the nurse. 'Not to worry' I said, 'we'll pick him up when we get back'. I wasn't overly worried. However I don't think I appreciated quite how attached I was to monkey.
The surgery was busy when we got back and we didn't get a chance to ask anyone about monkey. And I started to get anxious. I thought we'd left him with the nurse but what if we'd dropped him on the way to the post office? By the time we got to our appointment I think the nurse (a different one) thought I was terrified of injections (I'm not), I was so close to tears. Anyway, she was lovely. We told her about monkey and she promised to look for him when she'd done the injections. I don't think she could have made the link between monkey and the surgery computer system that says 'death of son' - but she really was lovely and I relaxed.
Wotsit went first - he is the bravest. His injection record remains unblemished; he has never cried, in fact never so much as flinched. Pickle was next and he wriggled and squirmed and whined a fraction but, when the needle went in, there were no tears. I was also very brave.
Then the nurse went off to find monkey. I'm ashamed to say that when she returned him, whilst Wotist reached for him, I intercepted him and whilst she went to get bravery stickers, I gave monkey an enormous hug.
To my husband, I think I have reached some conclusions.
I am happy to move but;
I don't want your commute to increase by very much at all
I don't want to sell our lovely house in a nice area on the off chance that we find something else
I do want to live in a village with a nice community feel
School catchment is important
And so is walking to school - preferably to age 11
I don't want to increase our mortgage by very much at all, or our term
I do want to live in a grown up house or a house that has potential to be a grown up house (which isn't completely out of our reach to actually do one day)
I would also be very happy staying where I am
Oh, and if we do leave I will cry more than you can possibly imagine.
Today Wotsit is 2 years, 9 months and 1 day old. He is exactly the same age as Monkey was when he died. He is so like his big brother in looks and cheekiness but not temper. Monkey was content and undemanding and I don't believe that was due to his disability; that was his character. Wotsit is feisty and occassionally stroppy but with a wicked sense of humour. They both love(d) cuddles.
Wotsit talks about Monkey now. He's learnt from Pickle mostly. He'll tell you Monkey died in a swimming pool. It took us a while to realise he thought we'd said Monkey had 'dived'. And he cuddles Monkey's monkey.
So he's caught his biggest brother up in age and is about to overtake. Irrationally, I'll be checking on him later just to make sure.
I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately. We're thinking of moving and I'm very confused. The move would bring us closer to husband's family but stretches us financially and we would need to make reasonably major compromises on the size of the house and garden we have. I know that we can be happy wherever we are but want to do the right thing for us all.
I know that leaving this house will never be easy. Monkey was only here for 9 months before he died but it's the last place he was. My memory is not brilliant but at least here there are lots of triggers. Most of his ashes are buried in the churchyard and I can hear the church bells from my bedroom. I don't think these are reasons to stay but they do make it hard to leave. I've always maintained that Monkey is with me but if we leave here I feel a little like I am leaving him behind. I know I need to look forward but it's tough.
There are lots of other positive reasons to stay too. We are happy here. Pickle's school is lovely and future schools are good. I have friends only 30 minutes away. It's an ok commute for husband. We have a study and a utility room!
So why go? It would be good to be closer to family. They'll help us out, maybe babysit occassionally. When they get a bit older, we'll be on hand to help them too. We'll spend less time on the M25. It's probably a nicer area which also has good schools and, in the right spot, the commute should be ok.
I think it boils down to two things keeping us here; Monkey and money. What to do? Not sure but feeling quite unsettled by the indecision. Although I do at least have a legitamate reason to feed my Rightmove addiction.
That's it.
I'm home alone for the first time in weeks and I'm having a very self indulgent teary evening. Pickle & Wotsit are asleep and I am feeling sad,sad,sad.
I love you Monkey
x
Pickle started school last Wednesday. I didn't expect to be particularly emotional about it. Pickle has been at nursery since he was 10mths old - I am used to him being independent of me. Nevertheless, it was a big deal. He was so excited and I was so aware of how fast he is growing up.
Day 1: He barely looked back when I dropped him into the classroom and I was grateful to be able to leave as I was mostly worrying that Wotsit would wee on the floor at any moment. When I picked him up his very sweet teacher told me 'he's been fine. He's very confident' then adding 'in a good way.' Pickle has been really excited about having school dinners but could only tell me that he'd had potato. His details about the day were all similarly sketchy. On the walk home he calls at least 3 children Tom. According to their parents (who I can only assume would know) not one of the children is actually called Tom!
Day 2: First trip to Breakfast Club and After School Club which I'm not loving quite as much as the school but Pickle is excited and seems happy enough (could be because there's access to food and television).
Day 3: Pickle asks why he can't have a packed lunch with crisps. He goes on to tell me that he's not had a hot dinner because the teachers thought he was having a packed lunch. He's quite insistent on this when I challenge him. This is not true - I can see the food around his face. He confesses later that Friday is chip day and that he had beans too (possibly with something more nutritious but I couldn't be sure). Pickle also tells me about P.E. In his words 'there was no climbing or running. I didn't have to put on my new indoor shoes or my p.e. kit. I just had to take off my socks and lie on the floor and pretend to be a snake going ssss ssss - it was a bit boring!'
Day 4: Already talking about Star Wars. Tom is still his friend (I don't think he's invisible but couldn't be sure). He had a lovely day. P.E. was outside so he got to wear his new outdoor shoes but he didn't have any jogging bottoms like the other children (I am a bad mother, I missed that bit of the instructions) so had to wear his school trousers becasue it was a bit cold for shorts. He fell over at 'they call it break time but I call it outside play' and grazed his hand but was very brave in the bath tonight. And did some clay modelling.
I loved school and hope this is the beginning of Pickle loving it too. In fact, I liked it so much that I'm hoping that one day soon I can go back and help out a bit...
My friend sent me this email on Chrsitmas Eve:
Not that you don't know this already but your boys are truly gorgeous. Pickle whispered in my ear this morning "Happy christmas and I hope Father Christmas brings you what you wish for!" Wotsit, wanting to copy his brother, whispered (in a not very quiet voice!) "Daddy is going to carve a pumpkin tonight cos it's Christmas Eve".
Thankfully, Wotsit wasn't too disappointed about the pumpkin...
