A slightly random mix for a title, I grant you, but it’s been one of those weeks.
On Monday my lovely boy became a teenager. A teenager. How on earth did that happen? It’s such a cliche to say “it only seems five minutes since…” but it’s so true. Since he’s been at secondary school the time has flown and I would like it to slow down a bit please. I don’t want him to be towering over me and talking to me in a deep voice. Not yet. I’m not ready. He’s only a head shorter than me now (his head doesn’t fit perfectly under my chin anymore when we hug) and his feet are as big as his fathers. When he’s side on he looks like the man he’ll grow into. His jaw is widening and he’s getting just so damned grown up. It’s lovely and sad and exciting and a million other adjectives all rolled into one big dollop of emotion.
On Tuesday my lovely girl had a very bad reaction to a friends guinea pig. She only held it for a few moments but within 5 minutes she could barely see out of her very swollen eye. My brilliant friend immediately took her to the pharmacy where the pharmacist promptly advised seeing a doctor and a good dose of Piriton. Two hours later and with the advise from the medical practitioner (?) to continue with the Piriton through the evening and night but to come back to see the doctor if not improved by morning, we were a bit worried. No real difference by morning so off we trotted to see the doctor. We left with a prescription for 3 doses of six steroid tablets (one dose of six to be take immediately) and some eye drops and another appointment for this morning to check on progress. My poor girl. She really has been very brave and sensible about it. We had some proper tears when it happened with a bit of wailing “I’m so ugly!!!” and “I’m scared!” but other than insisting on wearing my sunglasses whilst out in public she’s been brilliant. The steroids kicked in amazingly fast and she no longer looks like she’s done 10 rounds in the boxing ring (“you should see the other fella”) just more like she’s been on a marathon crying session (we all know what that looks like) but only from one eye.
In the midst of birthdays, poorly swollen eyes and attempting to get my head round the fact that we go on holiday on Friday (and I had not written a single list until yesterday!) my work laptop decided to die. Well, the screen died which at least meant I could hook up to a monitor and still do some work (shame!) until a shiny new one was delivered. Shiny new one was dropped off only for me to discover it has Windows 8. Hello? As a founder member of the “I learnt to use a computer in the 90’s” club and as someone who has lots of files and lots of notes and 4 email accounts to monitor this was not good news. It’s taken a day – a whole day – of faffing around (with a LOT of huffing and puffing thrown in) to get the bloody thing (as it’s now affectionately known) set up how I need it. Thanks to T I still have my virtual sticky notes that I can’t live without and I can just about navigate my way around it. But seriously, it’s a sad day when someone who used to train others to use computers, and who always thought of themselves as a bit of a geek, has to ask their (teenage) son to help them find Outlook and “make me a shortcut, please!!!!!” Why do the powers that be have to mess with stuff and change it so much that a 43 year old ex-IT manager wants to throw it out the window?!
Back to my lists. I’ve managed to write 2 lists. I have made my “final wash load before the packing commences” announcement. I have earmarked Friday morning for the final shopping trip for all the things we’ve realised are too small. And I finish work tonight. For a whole uninterrupted seventeen blissful* days. Just the final (hopefully) trip to the doctor to tick off, the packing list to write and I might start to feel on top of things.
* I’m sure they won’t all be blissful as, let’s face it, it’s a two week holiday in Devon and there’s no guarantees of sunny weather, and certainly no guarantees of complete familial harmony but look at me being all positive.