Wednesday, 22 February 2017

The One With The Facial Swelling Where "I Bought A Book About That" (35 months + 10 days)

I'm going to kick this one off with a request: it's my birthday in six weeks- could somebody buy me some time, please? (Also a maltipoo- I really, really, really would like a maltipoo. Please. I cannot afford to buy a maltipoo myself. I cannot justify spending all that money on a dog. So please. Pretty please. Please. Please baby Jesus, please).

Fun fact number 1: Piglet goes to nursery. What? Oh, you know this already? Of course you do.

Fun fact number 2: I wrote a massive huge long blog about how much I loved Piglet's nursery and how it was perfect for us and not a Fascist Child Structuring Brainwashing Camp like the other nursery that we went to view. Yes, yes, you know this also...

Fun fact number 3: Piglet's nursery does "developmental reports". 

Developmental reports. For a two year old. DEVELOPMENTAL REPORTS. FOR. A. TWO YEAR OLD. 

I'm guessing you can already tell from my tone that I was not happy with Piglet's "developmental report". I'm guessing that you can already tell that I think- to put it politely- that it is all a pile of shit (sorry Nana- but it was).

I had a parents evening to discuss Piglet's developmental report. Although it was actually a parents morning because they wanted to "discuss everything in more detail but there was absolutely nothing to be concerned about". I took NNB with me (still playing couples at nursery. I am getting sick of pretend coupling at the moment. But I will discuss this more later else I risk getting side-tracked from Rant Numero Uno). Normal "parents evening" appointments were for 15 minutes. I spent 90 minutes sobbing in a toddlers cloakroom. Yes. 90 minutes. Whilst my child was- in a very, very nice way- pulled apart. Whilst- although my parenting was absolutely fine- my parenting was not fine. Whilst Piglet was totally, completely fine- but not fine. According to their things. Their stupid bullshit things.

 Let me enlighten you with several choice points.

The first one is obviously her speech. Her speech has improved in comparison to how it was. She can say more words than I can count, when she chooses to, and she will say short sentences ("Look mummy, moon"). I also know full well that she understands absolutely everything I say to her. Is her speech perfect? No. Do you have to decipher it at times? Yes. But- is she two? YES. Is she as fluent as some of the other children they have at nursery? No. But aren't we, as parents, constantly told that they develop at different rates and not to worry? YES. 

Nursery have said she needs speech therapy. I am not averse to speech therapy. However- as I pointed out to them- I have bought a book on speech therapy for toddlers, as I fail to see what a speech therapist could do that I couldn't. Also, being perfectly honest, I have an incredibly hectic schedule; it works far better for me if I am able to aid Piglet at home, at times when I know I am free as opposed to having to rearrange the 367 different areas of my life to revolve around hospital visits for speech therapy. Furthermore- who the hell says she even DOES need speech therapy? I was telling a girl at work about this, and she said that she didn't talk until she was 4 or 5. She says she was a really late talker. And she's fine. So....could it not just be that? The health visitor is coming round on Thursday to discuss it anyway. I really like my health visitor though. So I might just moan to her. And ask her what I can do. (My health visitor gets me- I really, really like her). 

They also put her comprehension as "emerging". As I've just said, she understands everything. Everything. Do you know what their justification for this label was? "Sometimes when we ask her to do things, she won't follow the instruction if she doesn't want to do it".


They said they didn't think she was ready for potty training because she doesn't understand. Do you know what she did that evening? She asked to put her pants on, and then she went and sat on the toilet and did a wee. And the day after, she did a poo on the toilet. SO SCREW YOU NURSERY. SCREW YOUR FACES. (We are taking a relaxed approach to potty training currently- if she wants to use the toilet that is cool; if she doesn't that is also cool. I'm letting her lead me. My parenting is FINE. Also, I bought a book on potty training- I also told nursery about this book aswell- and it says I can do it in a week. So. Basically, I'm just trying to work out the best week to do it).

Oh wait, get this one- they said she copies other children which is concerning. 

...I'm sorry, what?


Shit, really?!

Whatever man. Whatever. I'm fine about the whole thing. Totally fine. SO chill, (I am not chill at all, I even googled foetal alcohol syndrome in case the fact that I drank before I knew I was pregnant could have any effect on her speech. To summarise: no Bones, it can't. You are overreacting).

She loves nursery though. And it is a really nice nursery. It was just.... well, it's never nice to hear anyone say there are concerns about your child. She's the star of football though, so she can just be a footballer. Footballers don't need to speak. In fact, it's probably better if footballers don't speak, so that works perfectly.

In other news, this happened:

Can you see my big fat massive face? This is actually after I'd started antibiotics. I have a wisdom tooth coming through and it got infected. It was wonderful. Really, the most enjoyable experience of my life. Ever. (Dentist was v. attractive though, so that was a bonus. Or not, depending on which way you look at it...). I have been flying off my face on all the painkillers I can legally acquire. This has meant that I have been falling asleep every 5 minutes because I don't do so well on drugs. But it is all fine again now. I finished antibiotics yesterday, and my face is once again semi-symmetrical. 

Piglet and I had a lovely day together at the weekend exploring outside. Here are pictures, (seriously, I should do PR for Sunderland- look how pretty everything looks):

(Please don't ask why she is carrying a pink umbrella around with her; she refused to leave the house without it. I don't know why she was so attached to it, I just went along with it). 

We went and saw the hospital people about her feet a couple of weeks ago. She had to have x-rays taken. Seriously traumatic. Nothing like having to pin your baby down whilst they're screaming to scar you for life. The consultant said her hips are fine, she's just got really flexible joints. He thinks her foot will correct itself as she gets older so he's just going to see her again in six months. 

I'm going to finish off with what will hopefully be my last moan for a very long time. NNB has got a new job at a school in North Shields which he will start in September. This is wonderful for NNB. Well done, big clap, you're great. However, I am not the only one who plays the "this is my partner" game. NNB told the current school that he works at that he was looking for a different job because "his partner" (this is supposed to be me in the fake world) is doing their masters at Newcastle so he wants to be based closer to there. NNB is now looking at moving. To North Shields. Or Gateshead. Or somewhere else that's nowhere near Piglet and I. 

1) I'm not your partner and it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to tell your employer that I am. Telling nursery that you're my partner makes sense otherwise they're just going to be like who's this weird beardy man?

2) North Shields is not Newcastle. North Shields is not Sunderland. North Shields is nowhere near me in any fashion.

3) NNB dear, why do you look so shocked when I inform you that I'm not moving because I like where I live, and cannot afford to move whilst I am paying £3000+ a year for a masters?

4) NNB SWEETPEA, why do you look even MORE shocked when I tell you there is no way that I am moving Piglet's nursery because she's only just settling in there and I want her to have some level of consistency in life currently, as part of me is concerned that is what has delayed her speech? (more paranoia, I know, I know). 


I am trying to be happy for NNB, but...I'm not doing too great at it. He was talking about doing that stupid NCS thing where he's away all Summer again and I'm like, I need to work? Can we not discuss this? Summer is my time to get money together so I don't have to kill myself during uni? I've even got work to give me a set shift pattern to limit the amount of time he has to watch Piglet. So he has her on Sundays. The rest of the time she is with me. And now he won't even be able to do that. I feel like I try to accommodate him, and it's all about him. I think he has been very selfish, and used ME as the excuse for being selfish when in actual fact it is not helpful to me at all. You're going to ask if I've tried to discuss this aren't you? I did. I told him he was selfish. He said he was going to pretend I hadn't said that, and then attempted to act as though everything was normal. I really can't be bothered to play fake couples anymore. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe I just don't care. 

Do you know what? 

I feel SO much better now. 

BIG LOVE GUYS XXXXXX (don't talk to boys, boys are crap, girls for life xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox) 

p.s. I promise to be less super moody bitch next time hopefully fingers crossed xxxxx

p.p.s. I have fallen in love with my chemotherapy lecturer so maybe I'll write an entire post about her- that one DEFINITELY has to be positive. 

p.p.p.s I COULD have ranted about the fact that Mr Dickhead is once again behind on his child maintenance payments but is pretending to them that he's paid but I'm not going to because I am so chill.

p.p.p.p.s The personification of chill

p.p.p.p.p.s Might start referring to myself at "The Chill" because that's how chill I am right now about all life. 


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