Where has the time gone – it doesn’t seen that long ago that I was in labour, begging for pain killing injections and sniffing on the gas and air like some crazy druggie. It was bloody good stuff that pethidine, it knocked me out – I slept between contractions. The only problem was it was a bit too good – when it came to the time to push I didn’t get the urge – they had to try to keep me awake and scream at me to bear down. We got there in the end – and I can still remember Himself’s face when he held his son for the first time.
When Steve started to crawl, we used to play a chasing game. We lived in a top floor flat at the time; it had a long living room with a door at each end into the hall. I used to get on my hands and knees and we’d hide from each other. I use to creep up behind him and shout 'boo' – he’d scream and laugh and then take off through the door and into the hall. I’d turn around and meet him coming the other way. I never though about it at the time, but the people below must have though a herd of elephants were about to come through the ceiling.
When he was about ten months old he couldn’t seem to shake off a cold – he’d been quite a big baby, but he lost all his weight. Antibiotics didn’t seem to work and he became more lethargic – eventually the doctor admitted him to hospital and he was put in an oxygen tent. He just lay there, not moving. One of the worse hour's of my life was sat waiting for the specialist to tell me whether he had pneumonia. Thank God he didn’t and a day before Christmas he was allowed home. I went into town and brought him a blue teddy that played Christmas carols when you pressed it paw – he still has it.
I remember taking him to playgroup for his first visit and them giving me a cup of coffee. I hate coffee, but I was too polite to say anything. I thought - how bad can a cup be if you take big gulps – it was ghastly, how I didn’t throw up beats me. I can’t even stand the smell of coffee now. I still have the plastic Ferrero Rocher container that he filled to the brim with coloured pasta and gave to me as a present.
I cried the first day he went to school. All the other mums were trying to stop their children crying while mine was telling me not to; he’d be home again soon. I also remember worrying about whether he’d be able to open his flask for a drink at dinner time as it was new and very stiff. I worried about him asking to go to the loo, missing the school bus home even though it only picked up from that school to bring the kids up to the top part of the village and a thousand and one other things – he wasn’t at all worried, he loved school.
When he was eight he needed to have his tonsils out – Himself and I were allowed to go down to theatre with him to say goodbye. As they put him to sleep he waved to me and saidI love you mummy – I cried rivers over that one. I stayed with him, sleeping in a chair that night and first thing the next morning he wanted to ring his Nan. The nurse showed us where the pay phone was and he happily talked to Nanny for a few minutes, while the nurse looked on. He them, without warning, through up – all over her shoes. The poor woman, she had to take them off and walk down the ward bare footed.
I can remember him talking Matthew to the rope swing in the field, even though they weren’t allowed. Matthew fell off and broke his arm – they came up with the excuse that he’d fallen off his bike. No, I didn’t fall for it - I’m not that stupid – his bike was in the shed for a start.
He had to have his appendix out while we were on Holiday in Ibiza – but that's another story along with the story of his engagement. One of the most special things he has ever asked me to do was to go with him to choose the ring – he wanted to do everything right and get down on one knee to ask Lucy to marry him. Both of those story will have to wait for another day.
Tomorrow night I’m picking them up – it’s his birthday, he can’t drive. We're all meeting up with Lucy’s Family and along with our family and friends are going out for a meal. He’s already asked about a birthday cake, with candles – so I’ve arranged that. Hopefully it will add some more good memories to the ones we already have.
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OK, I think I’ve sorted out the little teething trouble Scally was having with my blog – it wasn’t her fault, or at least she like to think so.
*looks around* I found it’s just easier to agree with her – saves on the earache. She's quite happy if she think's she's right, even if we know differently *wink*.
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Battle of the Jokes
Day two see’s casualties on both sides – but no pain, no gain.
Scally was a hare’s breath away from winning with this one –
A woman driving down the same highway saw the man crying on the side of the road and pulled over. She stepped out of her car and asked the man what was wrong.
"I feel terrible," he explained, "I accidentally hit the Easter Bunny and killed it. There may not be an Easter because of me. What should I do?"
The woman told the man not to worry. She knew exactly what to do. She went to her car trunk, and pulled out a spray can. She walked over to the limp, dead Bunny, and sprayed the entire contents of the can onto the little furry animal.
Miraculously the Easter Bunny came to back life, jumped up, picked up the spilled eggs and candy, waved its paw at the two humans and hopped on down the road.
50 yards away the Easter Bunny stopped, turned around, waved and hopped on down the road another 50 yards, turned, waved, hopped another 50 yards and waved again!
The man was astonished. He said to the woman, "What in heaven's name is in your spray can? What was it that you sprayed on the Easter Bunny?"
The woman turned the can around so that the man could read the label. It said:
"Hair spray. Restores life to dead hair. Adds permanent wave."
But never fear, I’ll not duck from her attack –
A duck walks into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a ham sandwich. The landlord looks at him and says, "But you're a duck"!
"I see you're eyes are working" replies the duck.
"And you talk!" exclaims the landlord.
"I see you're ears are working" says the duck, "now can I have my beer and my sandwich please?"
"Certainly," says the landlord, " sorry about that, it's just we don't get many talking ducks in this pub. What are you doing round this way?"
"I'm working on the building site across the road" explains the duck.
So the duck drinks his beer, eats his sandwich and leaves.
This continues for about 2 weeks. Then one day the circus comes to town.
The ring leader of the circus comes into the pub and the landlord says to him: "You're with the circus aren't you? I know this duck that would be just brilliant in your circus, he talks, drinks beer and everything!"
"Sounds marvellous" says the ringleader, "get him to give me a call, he could earn thousands."
So the next day, the duck comes into the pub. The landlord says,"Hey Mr Duck I reckon I can line you up with a top job. Paying really good money!"
"Yeah?" says the duck, "Sounds great, where is it?"
"At the circus" says the landlord.
"The circus?" the duck enquires.
"That's right" replies the landlord.
"The circus? That place with the big tent? With all the animals? With the big canvas roof with the hole in the middle?"
"That's right!" says the landlord
The duck looks confused. "What the hell do they want with a plasterer?"
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We received this certificate through the post yesterday – it doesn’t seem to matter how much you paid for the course, the certificates are always crap.
and with that in mind – and Aidan not in until the afternoon, there seem to be only one place to hang it.
