Is This Thing On?

So, turns out poor old 0ddness has been a bit neglected of late. A lot late. But, with yesterday being a momentous occasion, I figured I would appear out of lurkdom and grace you with my presence.

Yes, I still think a lot of myself. Go figure.

(FYI: Long Post Klaxon!)

Firstly, I was indeed 41 years old yesterday. Of course, I didn't realise it was my birthday this weekend until Wednesday when someone asked me which day it was. And when asked how old I was, I had to pause, and do some pretty complicated mathematics in my head to work it out.

So, with the freshest thing first, I'll start with yesterday - in which I became older, no wiser, sexy as ever, and generally continued to grace the world with my presence. As mentioned already. As is usual, I don't make a big deal of my birthday - I'm not into the whole party-hearty because I managed to not die for another year. Yesterday was nice and quiet and chilled out. My gift from Poppy was me tripping over her potty, and splashing pee all up my leg, so that was nice. And warm.

In August, I finally bit the bullet and started looking for a new doggo. Since I lost Sally Dog, I wanted something small and stupid with a wanky obnoxious name - but have been putting it off and putting it off. First we needed somewhere bigger. Then we needed money. Then with Poppy, we needed her to be less... Baby. So, last month, Kellie made some phone calls (and aside from avoiding a rather dodgy situation with what later turned out to be some travellers and puppy farming!) she found a lady with a couple of Jack Russell puppies. We travelled over to see them, a boy and a girl, and set to having a play.

The little girl - as a typical female - was probably just having an off day, and didn't seem bothered by us. The little boy was an idiot, wanted to lick my chin and eat my stubble, and seemed to like having cuddles. He also like being near Poppy (kind of important with THAT force of nature) and on top of that, didn't growl at Kellie - so he can't sense evil.

We took him home there and then, and since then, the little idiot has been charging around like a mad thing. Naming took a couple of days (He was just "dog" to start with!) and we toyed with everything from Dave to Kujo to Jeff to Gobshite... Eventually, however, remembering a dog my Great Uncle had maaaaany years ago, we opted for Lord Montgomery II. Granted, we call him Monty, but everywhere he's registered, the vets, his microchip, his insurance, his name tag - he is Lord Montgomery. Which the vets find hilarious.

He's such an idiot. No sense of how small he is, can't navigate a series of three steps without tripping over at least one of them, can go through a baby gate in one direction, but cannot work out how to come back through... He tries to leap up onto the sofa - but takes off about three feet too soon, so generally hits the front of the sofa face first. As I write this, he is snuggled against me, on my lap. Oh yes, he's a lap dog.

Him and Poppy get on like, well, a toddler and a puppy. I should sell the idea to Disney for their next Princess. A noisy troublemaker and a puppy, systematically destroying everything they go near - but everyone still loves them. For some reason.

Anyway... With Monty being my early birthday present, I didn't expect to get presents yesterday, but low and behold, a large box was produced. I was genuinely not expecting anything, so to unwrap it and find a brand new spanking shiny gaming laptop inside, I was shocked into speechlessness. I expected it to be a box with a brick in it. Or something explosive. Or divorce papers.

You see, last year, I made the transition from a PC Gamer to a PS4 Gamer. The PS4 was my birthday present last year. My old Aspire laptop - while still able to run a lot of things - was getting a bit rickety. It survived the Great Kicking of Kellie in 2012, it was resurrected after the Dropping Off Of Screen in 2013, and even last year, it survived the Great Coffee Flood...

The Second Great Coffee Flood, however, proved to be it's undoing. All seemed well for a week or so, then, in the immortal words of the great Nanny Plum, it went BANG. Literally, BANG. Complete with the Blue/Grey Smoke Of Electronics Doom.

I have no idea what died, though I suspect either the power gubbins or the processor, but it was Dee Eee Dee Dead. And that, I am afraid to say, was that for the laptop. Within a fortnight, my old wheezy Medion PC System also gave up the ghost, and has since been sitting on my desk staring at me like a corpse glaring at its murderer.

But now, I am back in the world of the living. I am still a PS4 Gamer, but am also once again a PC Gamer. And, MOST importantly, I can now get many many Gigabytes of data retrieved from my old systems. See, having no computer to speak of meant the laptop and the PC have been sitting there rotting, their four hard drives holding tightly onto lots and lots of photos from over the years - including a multitude of Bethy pictures.

Thankfully, after doing the Medion hard drives, all the photos from the last ten years or so are safe and sound and YES I've already backed it all up. Thank you Google Drive & Photos. Of course, the anally-retentive Dan has spent the last three days sorting the photos and putting them into the correct Month & Year folders... Because why wouldn't you?!

I've not had a look at my laptop drives yet - I have to confess, I am a little nervous to do so, mainly because of the spectacular way it exited the mortal coil... As long as there was no surge in electrickery or, you know, fire, I think they should be good.

So, moving on from the most important thing (Yes, still me), I move on to the wee little troll that is Poppy.

She is growing like a weed. All the new stuff we got her for the summer is already looking a bit little on her. Not that it matters too much, as she is currently going through her "Nekkid Toddler" phase and hates to wear clothing. And runs around without a care in the world. She looks so much like Bethany some days,it pulls at my heart strings, and she is SO much like her, from the trouble making, to the putting herself on the naughty step after intentionally doing wrong, to hiding her dummies, so when you take it away from her, another one appears out of nowhere! She is gorgeous, funny, stubborn and bright as a button.

She's now entitled to her 15 hours a week of nursery, and so - realising both how fast she's growing and how little she is, she started three mornings a week at a little nursery near us. At first, she was, shall we say.... Less than impressed... She's never really been away from Mummy or Daddy or Siblings or Nanny - and the first few weeks she did to get used to it in August... They did NOT go well. But with the girls at nursery helping out, we persevered, and now she hates NOT going to school. She's still doing exactly what Tamsyn did was she was small and lovely, and refuses to speak except in her own language. Since starting nursery, she is coming on more and more.

For those of you that don't follow me on Twitter or Facebook or whatever, she also had her first proper injury in the summer - she gashed open her forehead beside her eyebrow. Typical guilty daddy moment, I looked away from her for a few seconds, and down she went. Because she was wet, the blood went EVERY-fooking-WHERE and she looked like Carrie. It was awful. It was touch and go for a while if she'd need referring to another hospital for the plastics team that rebuilt Jaysens hand as it was so close to her eye, but in the end, it was nice and clean and not too deep. Steri-Strips and TLC, and she now has a scar above her left eyebrow, but with copious usage of Bio-Oil, I'm hoping that it fades more and more over time.

As I mentioned earlier, she and the dog love each other, and are generally always running around together. Where one goes, the other follows. If she curls up for a nap somewhere, he usually curls up with her too, and it is exactly what we wanted - for them to grow up together and be best friends. They play with each others toys, play with each other, and literally bounce off one another. Until they both flake out and have a nap...

And it's at times like that, the rest of us can sit for half an hour, have a breather, drink some coffee, clear up the chaos, and wait for it to start all over again - because when one wakes up, the other wakes up.

As for the other morons children in the house - well, I say children... Dom is 19, has moved on from being one of the managers at McDonalds, and now works at some big financial place doing something... Financial. Jaysen is 18 (19 in a few months even!), still in college studying something with animals, while working at the Dogs Trust a couple of times a week - and now he's considering University. Molly is 15 and in her last year of school, getting ready for her GCSEs. Tamsyn is 12 (but seems older?) and is shooting up like a bloody weed as well. Both Molly & Tamsyn go to Army Cadets twice a week, and it's definitely doing them both the world of good.

Jaysen: Being Special

Molly: Probably Sulking

Poppys Other Great Passion: Water!

Tamsyn: Not Actually My Son

My Classy Kellie

NERDS

Lucina (Doms better half), Molly (doing something with her fingers),
Kellie (squashed), Tamsyn (still a girl) and Poppy (trying to escape)

Tam & Mo with their detachment (Armed Forces Day)

Now, oddly, I cannot find any photos of Dominic that fulfil the following criteria. Firstly, I wanted a recent photo, and secondly, I wanted it to be of him fully dressed and not on the toilet. As it seems all the photos I have of him seem to be in his pants or on the loo, here's the next closest thing.

Dominic: Needs a Haircut

And so, after what can only be described as a wall of text and random photos (and a cauliflower) I will leave it at that... I can cover my medical rubbish any other time - probably at three in the morning when I feel shite, and all of Kellies medical rubbish is a blog post unto itself.

And yes, I am fully aware that while blogging has never been considered "cool", I still prefer it to most other forms of Social Media. And, while on THAT subject - while I might have things appear on Facebook, I do not actively go on there, and have not done so for a long time. Too much drama, bitching, politics, and what seems to be playground behaviour - so I continue to avoid that. I use Twitter now and then, and post pictures to Instagram occasionally. I am hoping - though I'm not making any promises - that now I am back with a screen and a keyboard and no danger of autocorrect, that I will manage to blog a little more regularly. Aside from that, if you play on PS4, feel free to add me - username is Danielson0

Until next time, you little crowd of nutters that made it this far!

A Weeks Hiatus

So, it has to be said that, one week on, I am not missing anything that is Facebook-related. Not the petty arguments, the flame wars, random people being offended by random posts/shares, and certainly not those making wild, outrageous and downright nasty comments either in general, or on world events...

And I have to be honest here - there's not actually anything that interesting there anyway. If you get your world news or world views from Facebook, it's probably too late for you already. Half the "really funny" stuff is older than rock, and the other half is filled with videos of people pissing around on Vine.

I did get one message - a text, that is, I'm logged out of Facebook AND Facebook Messenger - asking why I was posting so much to Facebook, considering I'm apparently sulking and not on there... Turns out my Twitter feed is linked to my Facebook account, so each time I Tweet, Facebook posts it. So if you think I'm on Facebook, I'm really not - the fact it says "Posted from Twitter" or whatever should be the biggest giveaway there!

Other than that, it's been a long week - mainly because (as alluded to before) my medical crap is definitely kicking my arse at the moment. My meds are doing squat, and my body feels like it's slowly spiralling and shutting down... I DID have an appointment with a pain management clinic, but thanks to my brain being - well, my brain - I got confused on dates, times and locations of said-appointment. Needless to say, I went to the wrong place. At the wrong time. On the wrong day. AFTER missing my appointment. So, they discharged me as clearly I was wasting their time. Despite Kellie phoning and explaining the situation.

So that's been nice.

It's not just the physical shit that has been flying into the fan... No no, that'd be easy. And manageable. No, it's also the mental shit. Having to be told and reminded and retold of a date or time or to do something. Reading through stuff but getting absolutely nowhere fast. Failing to follow plots or characters in TV programs. Slurring and getting tongue tied and muddled up trying to form simple sentences... It's all been a bit much for me really. As usual, some days are worse than others - it's all I can do to get up and put on pyjamas some days - but it's definitely been hard for me this year.

I've found my energy levels are a lot worse than they have been too... I have resorted to collapsing in bed if my body thinks it needs to crash. A few weeks ago, I slept from Friday through til Monday, only waking once or twice. This week, I went to bed Friday lunchtime and woke up Saturday evening. I think my body isn't quite so happy with my usual "just push through it" routine, and has taken to punishing me.

My sleep is all screwed up too, and I've resorted to Amytriptyline once again, but not every night. However, on it or off it, my brain keeps funny hours. We might go to bed at ten, and I'll flake out within half an hour... Only to wake at half two, toss and turn for a couple of hours, resort to reading or putting on something quiet to watch... By half five I give up and get up, and then carry on through awake til bedtime the following night. The other side of that suck salad, is the complete opposite. We'll got to bed, and I take a tablet... Only to lay wide awake til three or four, at which point my brain remembers it's been drugged, and puts me to sleep - and there I stay til early afternoon.

So for those wondering, yes I'm still "ill" and no my body isn't improved or better.

Ho hum.

In other news, I finally got a Chromecast, and if you don't have one, I really really highly recommend it. Easy to set up, even easier to use... I'm fairly sure even older people will understand it!

And last but not least, after a rather long break from World of Warcraft, the boys have managed to twist my arm and get me interested again... That, and the cinematic for the next expansion looks stunning, plus the upcoming Warcraft movie looks amazing. World of Warcrack has, slowly but surely, sucked me back in over the last couple of weeks! Dom even bought me the current expansion - though I suspect his ulterior motive was more that he always looked so sad and disappointed when he realised I played Minecraft!

Hopefully, getting back into WoW will help divert my attention away from the pain and general suckiness that is my body. That might sound like a bad thing, but it's not, I promise. I always used to enjoy Warcraft for the escapism aspect, as well as the fact it distracts me from the pain shooting through my body!

In general, life is just plodding on here at Chez English. Poppy keeps us all entertained, busy and on our toes - and she is definitely spoiled by everyone. But then, I think it's her right as youngest, prettiest and most evil (she clearly has evil mind-control powers) to be doted on by brothers, sisters, grandparents, friends, family and random strangers on the bus.

For any of the TL;DR crowd out there... Still not on Facebook, still ill, going back to wow, Poppy is great.

On Love

It's a funny thing, is love. It's a word people throw around all the time, and they attach it to so many different things. They love this band, or they love this food, or they love this place... And that's not even taking into account the people in their lives.

On top of that, there are the different kinds of love. You might love your doctor, or love your dog, or love thy neighbour. Then there are the familial kinds of love - you love your mum, or your sister, or your child, or your spouse... Not to mention, love can come from nothing - even hate - or it can wax and wane depending on how you treat someone, or how you are treated in return.

Love can grow from nothing. My own sister and my brother-in-law used to hate one another at school, yet now they are married with children. You can fall in love with someone you've never met.

Kellie and I dated many years ago, and that ended very abruptly. I never wanted to speak to her again. Teenage angst and all that. Then years later, we started talking again via Facebook. Then we started meeting for lunch, or hanging out at each others houses. Over time, what was originally teenage hurt and despair regrew into a friendship, which then became a close friendship, and eventually, we had feelings for one another... Which built into more and more until, seven years later, here we are with Poppy.

Which brings me to my actual, long-story-short (too late) point.

Poppy was handed to me when she was born. She was covered in sludge and gore. She was a horrible cover. She was hairy, and coated in vernix, and screaming and really not the most pretty thing in the world...

Yet in that second, I knew I would die for her, right there and then if I had to. Every single fibre of my being loved this tiny little life that was just minutes old. We had never met. I had only ever seen a representation of her image on an ultrasound. I had never heard her voice, never felt her directly touch me. And yet, something in my brain told me that she is the very embodiment of love.

I know I felt the exact same way with Jaysen, Bethany and Tamsyn when they were passed to me. These tiny little things that I helped create. And yet, when you sit quietly taking stock, cuddling a tiny bundle at 2am, your heart swells at the sound of their breath, the twitch of their mouth, the flexing of their tiny little hands reaching out at nothing. I suppose there is a scientific reasoning behind it, some evolutionary reason behind loving and nurturing your genetic line... But for once, I don't care. I don't care about the reasons, the why-fors, my brain isn't interested nor bothered that it doesn't know.

I just know that when I look at Poppy, everything feels right, and good, and pure and... I don't know. Words don't - words can't - describe nor explain it. The great poets and authors of history have tried many times (How do I love thee; let me count the ways...) and yet none have ever managed to pin it down. I even tried to find something earlier that explained how I felt looking at Poppy, but the closest I could come was the first part of Love's Language, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye--
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh
Thus doth Love speak.

And only with that paragraph, and this entire rambling post, have I managed to prove to myself, you can't word how it feels. It just is.

Poppy

So, today was the day... Actually, YESTERDAY was the day. It's all a bit of a blur, and I realise it's now half past midnight.

But I digress... I am so pleased, proud and happy to announce the arrival of our beautiful little girl, Poppy.



That is her within minutes of her being born. And wow... My first birth. My other three were all cesarean sections, so this was something altogether new and different.

We went into hospital at 9am, and were fully expecting things to be still ongoing at this time. Examination by ten, postrin gel by eleven. Examination at five. More gel. Examination at nine. Hormone drip. Tadpole to be born in the early hours. Long, boring, hard work.

It seems that fate decided to play another fastball with us. We got in at nine. Examination at ten... But no gel needed. Turns out the Braxton Hicks contractions Kellie has been having are ACTUAL contractions - and she was already three centimetres dilated, plus she was having fairly good - but not very strong - contractions already.

Woop!

So the plan became "break waters at eleven, see what happens by five and if needed, onto the drip"which would have to Tadpole coming out in the late evening.

Fine by us.

After the crotchet hook was used to rupture her membranes, it didn't take long for the contractions to get a bit more grown-up, and after a couple of hours, they were making her gasp and stop what she was doing to squeeze my hand.

By three this afternoon, she opted for the gas & air... In the past, it's made her feel sick, but she was limited to that, diamorphine (that'd be heroin then!), or an epidural. She was adamant, NO epidural, so tried using the gas.

It didn't help much, and it did make her feel sick. But she pushed through. Diamorphine crosses through the placenta and can make baby tired and woozy. She didn't want that. The pains built up and up, but she didn't shout, scream, swear, blame me for doing it, nothing... Just lots of gas, and breathing through the pain..

By four she was really suffering, and by half four decided to go for the diamorphine. At 4.50pm she was given it, and Anna, our midwife, had me getting Kellie to stay focused and do hula hoop movements - it kept Kellie from falling asleep, and kept Tadpole awake.

I chose this time to send a text update to a few people, and said it shouldn't be long, which in hospital talk is a few hours. I spoke to Dom, reassured him Kellie & Tadpole were fine... I put the phone down to him at 5.01pm, and as I did so, Kellie made a really strange noise...

She had started to grunt and push.

Midwife jumped, assistant came running, and it just so happened that this was IT.

By 5.11pm, Tadpole was born. No longer Tadpole, but a beautiful little girl, covered in white vernix, bellowing for all to hear. She went straight onto Kellie for skin to skin, we delayed the cord clamping, and there she lay, whinging and moaning with the occasional little tiny tear.

Once the cord was clipped, she was weighed, coming out at a beautiful 7lb 7oz. Tadpole became Poppy.

A few minutes later, the placenta arrived, but - my American friends from CHD lists will appreciate - we opted to not keep it for cooking up. Sorry and all ;-)

Kellie did an amazing job. She never complained, only really cried when (and I quote) "she's looking at me!" and did everything brilliantly. No tearing, no stitches. She didn't make a fuss, shout, swear, just got on with giving birth.

It's an amazing thing, to see a human being squeezed from inside another... Words can't do it justice, seeing this teeny tiny person slowly emerging.

Tadpole and Kellie will stay in hospital overnight... Due to Kellies diabetes, they want to make sure both her and Poppy have normal blood sugars. Here I lay without wife or baby, just for tonight. Tomorrow, the real fun will start.

A huge, huge, massive thank you to all of you - everyone that commented on the updates, pictures, announcement...Not to mention those of you that have kept me sane over the last nine months. It's been a long time in the making, but Poppy is beautiful and gorgeous - she even has a small birthmark on one shin. No doubt there will be plenty more postings to come, but thank you to everyone that has been there supporting, welcoming and congratulating us today. I will be printing out all the comments for the Baby Journal. Suffice to say, it's been an incredible day.

It's been IMMENSE.