Wobbly week

Whenever I think I’ve got this situation sorted and am dealing with it well, the sucker punch comes. I was so looking forward to this week – kids back at school, meaning the holy grail of child-free time again, and a nice straightforward ERT with no other appointments booked in. So of course it all went tits up.

Tuesday morning it was just me and Pudding in the house. I think he really missed having the others around and was incredibly grumpy. I gave up at 10.30 and put the TV on. His mood does make such a difference – on his happier days he is a little joy and we can get him over the little humps of demanding food, etc with a bit of distraction. We enjoy being silly or him climbing on me, can try a jigsaw, look at a book and so on. Still hard work, with the need for constant attention, but do-able. On the grumpy days, it is an uphill battle. There are only so many times that I can put on my enthusiastic face and say ‘Hey, sweetie! Look a bird!’

In the afternoon we had our assessment/information visit from the lady who sorts out respite. It was probably a good time for her to come, as I ended up crying and Pudding demonstrated plenty of bad behaviour – hitting me, crying and demanding food endlessly. She certainly got a clear picture of what life is like with him, so much better than his usual sociable side in company.

Wednesday, the ERT went pretty much to plan. We were finished at 12.25 so free to leave just before 1pm. Hoorah! Then 5 minutes after pulling out the carpark, while we were on a single lane, one-way diversion somewhere in Manchester, Pudding opens his eyes and throws up everywhere. After inching past a traffic light, I managed to pull up on some double yellows, and clean him up. Then had to make the inevitable phone call to let them know, and ask if we should come back. Of course when we made it back (I HATE Manchester roads) he proceeded to push a trolley around the ward, laughing and chatting up all the nurses. Nowt wrong with him! They’ll up the pre-meds next week though, just to be safe. The upshot was that we didn’t actually leave until 3pm.

That night, I got to bed, and the whole horrible world of Hunters kept revolving round my head. A toddler being sick is such a small thing in the ‘normal’ world. Yet with us now it has so many more implications. A few hours longer in Manchester that day, but probably more scrutiny in the future – the latest waiting game – will he end up with infusion reactions or not.

I haven’t actually cried much lately but it all welled up and I was soon sobbing loud enough for Hubby to hear me from downstairs. He did his best and was asking what he could do to make things better. The only obvious answer to that one is to stop Pudding having Hunters. Big ask, there!

The next day actually went much better, despite not being able to send him to preschool – he was in such a happy mood, singing and doing his little ‘Night Garden’ dance. And sunshine, sunshine was a big help.

So got through the wobbles again. And I know it will just be one of many. And of course, there are always the lighter moments. The moment when I switch the washing machine on for a maintenance wash to find that there are two spoons clunking around in it. The moment when Pudding wears the freshly washed car seat cover as a hat, peering out through the holes with his cheeky smile. The moments when he grabs Twiglet for a cuddle and they both end up on the floor in giggles. Those precious moments when all the worries and angst disappear and we enjoy the present.

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