Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

After the last post aired I had quite a few people get in touch with me to make sure I'm okay.  I want to say thanks.  It's really lovely to know that I have so many people in my life that care. My first appointment with the new psychiatrist (the old one's boss) was bumped back a week, then had to happen over the phone.  By the time it took place, I had (given my GP's carefree attitude to prescriptions) been stable on my medication for about a month and a half.  I did manage to get the 24hr blood test the old psychiatrist demanded, and because I'd successfully gotten my meds I was able to undergo the test under controlled circumstances to prove that my blood pressure is manageable while medicated.  It is.  I'm fine. The call was painless.  He had my notes, but had a few questions.  I answered them as calmly as possible, carefully not going into too much detail about my dissatisfaction with the old doctor.  He did delve into that area hims...

It's taken me a while to sit down to write this, the previous drama happened on the Friday afternoon before my kids were off school for a week.  It was... busy. After my last post, which was partly to share and partly because if I don't record details in the moment they get lost forever to the ether in my brain, I spent the evening in helpless tears.  This unnerved Himself to the point that he offered to try and call someone on my behalf.  Anyone who knows Himself knows that he hates making phone calls, to the point that when we first got together he made me place all takeaway orders.  *lol*  He has graduated to calling the local Indian, but he's still not a fan. Of course, there was nobody he could call that I couldn't have called (or had already called) myself, and I don't know if anyone would have even spoken to him in the first place.  The offer was still appreciated. The weekend passed, and I continued to take my pills in the hope that I'd find a...

This afternoon, I had a meeting with my now-ex psychiatrist.  That should give you a hint about how well it went. On our last visit, in the context of an update on my life and what I'd been dealing with since we last met, I repeated something to her that my husband said to me in an argument.  On that basis, she changed my meds from one I was doing really well on to one that made me want to throw myself under a bus.  Literally.  After a couple of days on the new medication, I was more than aware that all was not well and started attempting to speak to my doctor.  Four days later, I finally got a response from her.  At this point, I had already stopped taking the meds that made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there.  She agreed to put me back on the meds I hadn't wanted to stop taking in the first place, but it took her almost a week to get the prescription to me. Unmedicated me is not fun.  Unmedicated me bounces off walls, is uncontrolla...

On Friday of last week, I received a letter in the post that sparked hope and joy.  Dude had been referred for ADHD assessment back in September, and we'd been waiting for an appointment since then.  The letter, the glorious letter, was that appointment.  The time frame?  Today. !!! Yes, three days notice.  I rearranged work and volunteering commitments, because let's face it, we weren't going to miss it after waiting three months.  I grabbed Dude from the school at the appropriate time and we trundled off to Hayes to the address we'd been given. From the minute I sat down, I knew this wasn't going to be the first step in the right direction to getting the man child some help.  There were two women in the room, one an ADHD nurse and one a consultant psychiatrist.  The latter took the reins, and it all went downhill from there. I was asked why there was any suspicion that Dude has ADHD.  I answered with "three years of documentation fr...

This year.  This year has been... dramatic. I've had a cancer scare, with biopsies and a procedure to remove the face of my cervix.  I've had huge issues with Dude's development and behaviour as a (let's face it) ADHD boy child.  We're still on the wait list for his assessment, hoping to hear something next month.  I've had mum guilt over whether Madam is getting enough attention having to share me with Dude and his chaos.  I've had wife guilt over the state of the house and our lives in general.  I've had a change of ADHD medication which involved going cold turkey from my old meds, and added to that I've had to stop my antidepressants at the same time to start the new meds because the combination can cause serotonin syndrome (palpitations, sweats, anxiety, shakes).  The second week on the new meds I got the flu.  Last Monday I was stopped at a red light after dropping the kids off from school and got hit from behind by a car going 30mph. ...

We had our first brush with Big Brother this week. I should have seen it coming, really.  The amount of craziness that stems from Dude really should have prepared me for it.  I mean, he's been in enough trouble at school that I've been dealing with the Head since he was in reception.  When he was four.  Four. Still, getting the phone call from the school to let me know he'd triggered a safeguarding warning caught me off guard.  For those of you who have the luxury of not knowing what that means, he said something at school that raised concerns regarding his safety or wellbeing either in the school environment or the home environment. It wasn't at school. The call came at the end of a truly hideous week, on the heels of a pretty rough start to the school year in general.  Dude had caused a building lockdown on Monday by leaving the classroom without telling anyone, and then hiding.  Hiding.  Four members of staff, including the Head, had to...

It’s been a while since my last post.  It’s for many reasons, let’s just say “life”. The bratlets are changing at a rate of crazy.  Dude is getting sincerely entertaining with his weirdness, little dances with shooting fingers as he exits a room backwards, things like that.  Madam has developed a wide streak of sarcasm, which warms the cockles of my salty little heart.  They’re the same size now, which confuses Himself no end as he can’t tell which clothes belong to which kid.  I regularly get asked about my twins. Speaking of Himself, the man is only getting better with age.  He’s back at karate (and yes, it’s sexy as hell) as Dude wanted to give it a go, and I’m currently typing from the hall as all three of my little family punch at the air.  That’s right, after months of seeing the boys head off to karate, Madam is trying out her first lesson as we speak. As far as myself, I’ve had a hard time lately.  I had a bit of a cancer scare...

This afternoon, my freshly seven year old daughter came out of class upset.  This is extremely rare, so I immediately waded in to find out what the problem was.  She says to me that some of her classmates went into her tray (at her desk) and had taken her erasers without asking. Now, we had talked about these erasers before they went into school.  They were a birthday gift, in a little storage bag, and I'd suggested she leave them at home.  She insisted they'd be okay, she wanted to use them at school, so I capitulated. In that moment, I was fully on her side.  Having your possessions taken isn't okay at any age, and I had her back.  She pointed out a girl that was still in the playground and said she was one of the culprits, so I walked over with Madam to retrieve her property. At this point, she changes her story.  The girl in question, who has already handed the eraser back, had been given that one as a gift.  It was another girl that had...

So, this week I had my first brush with xenophobia.  Being an American in the UK, of course I've heard the jokes, been called "the Yank", been asked ridiculous questions about what Texas is like, but I'd never run into a genuinely hateful attitude about my heritage. White privilege?  Of course.  I had a conversation about it with someone I work with, he has it so regularly as to be able to recount a story from literally two weeks ago.  I feel a little silly even talking about it in terms of racism, as the rest of the behaviour aimed at me by this particular individual was so much more serious.  It's just... that part really shook me. We've been so happy with our neighbourhood since we moved here seven years ago.  The neighbours to one side are so lovely, never a problem, they're family now.  Other people in the street are friendly, say hello and stop for a chat if we pass each other.  When we get a new family, I go over and introduce myself, e...

So, this morning both kids were up at half five.  This in itself isn't exactly noteworthy, as it's happened frequently enough in the past that we're pretty used to it.  What is worth noting is that this morning, apparently I lost my ever-loving mind. The kids were both dressed, provided with breakfast, and playing nicely together (for a change), so I decided in my ill-timed optimistic state of mind that I'd pop upstairs and get started on one of the myriad jobs I'd set for my morning sans bratlets.  I got stuck in sorting through bits in the bedroom, feeling massively productive and accomplished.  This should have been my first red flag. The occasional shriek from downstairs notwithstanding, I motored through the sorting and made quite a dent in the chaos.  I ruthlessly tossed out stuff that had been hanging around in the bedroom for goodness knows how long.  I cleaned surfaces, chased dust and cobwebs, put things in their rightful places. That's when...

It's been a while.  Like a year and a half while.  I know, believe me, I know. Mostly, it's been a case of.. well, a case of this. The Dervish.  The Whirlwind.  The Destructor. The Dude. From emptying any container of any liquid he finds on any available surface to attempting to drop a deuce on the playground in Black Park, the kid keeps me on my toes.  He's not done any permanent damage (yet), so I guess I should count my blessings. The She Beast, you know, this one... ... she's doing remarkably well, considering.  There's still high drama should She be crossed, but school is going swimmingly and she's growing up at a terrifying rate. Himself is still kicking as well, working his usual magic for the companies in whose financial pies he waggles his fingers.  Plus, he's becoming quite the silver fox, so bonus points for yours truly. My life is about par for the course.  Hands full with bratlets, serving as paren...

Yesterday, Dude took a nap without my having to physically hold him.  Well, he started that way, at least.  The period of Dude-free arms could have been used to do something like laundry (of which I did manage three loads yesterday) or something equally productive, but I decided to do something slightly more decadent.  I painted my nails.  *grin*  Base coat, a very pretty sage green colour, holographic glitter on a couple of fingers, top coat, and they looked marvellous.  Just as they were touch dry, Dude squawked, so I put the polish into the windowsill and held him while he finished his nap. Perhaps now is a good time to cover Dude's history with nail polish.  Last summer, I came into the living room and could smell nail polish but couldn't for the life of me find the source.  Later that day when I went outside to get something from the car, I found the smashed debris of a bottle of my top coat on the driveway under the open window.  Cut ...

So, I've been convinced Dude was going to be weaned at least four times.  Once when he bit me so hard I looked down expecting to see a piece of my nipple missing.  Once when I went to Amsterdam for three days.  Once when he turned two.  Once when I went to Texas for five days. Obviously, none of those times was "the time Dude was weaned".  The boy is, and always has been, a boob jockey.  You should see how happy his little face is when I get out of the shower.  He has been known to climb into my lap on the sofa, assume the position, tug at the neck of my shirt and demand "bees".  (Insert obligatory "bitty" joke here.) Let me set the scene for the last couple of weeks in our house.  There has been the usual amount of coughing and spluttering, and just for fun we added in the obligatory flu immunisation.   This saw both kids spiking a fever on and off for a couple of days.  At one point, Dude walked past my lovely clean bra d...

So, yesterday marked the eight week milestone with my Thrive supplements.  I thought I'd update, as I've been pretty quiet about it since the first week or so. Let's just start with the fact that I haven't lost any weight.  That said, it's not marketed as a weight loss product, that's just one of the side effects for some people.  Also, I've made really terrible food choices in the last couple of months.  *lol*  I'm still dealing with some depression and eating disorder issues, and those will take time to sort out.  Plus, I don't get regular unbroken sleep, which is one of the big things that people say matters with healthy weight loss. I've seen major changes, though, in the following: The skin on my stomach and the backs of my arms doesn't feel thin and crepey anymore.  I've noticed firmer, more elastic skin, and for me those are major problem areas, so I'm pretty happy about it. My hair is growing noticeably faster, as are ...

So, today's our eight year wedding anniversary.  We've had a hell of a ride, and the last four years have been over the top crazy and amazing what with Madam and Dude joining our little troupe, but that's not what I'm going to talk about right now. No, what I want to talk about is karma.  The vindictive b*tch. This morning, while stripping the bed during Dude's morning ablutions, I saw a spider.  Let me elaborate.  I saw a huge, nightmare inducing, size of a compact car spider, on the bedroom wall.  I think my heart stopped for a moment, but when I regained use of my fear-frozen limbs, I managed to order the spider not to move and ran to the bathroom for a what even I have to admit was a ridiculously huge wad of loo roll with which to dispatch said beast. When I ran back in, he was still there.  Staring at me.  Daring me to approach him. I dared. Yes, I made awful faces while I dealt with him.  Yes, I shuddered uncontrollably before, dur...

I had an NCT committee meeting on Sunday night, just a general catch up to go over recent and upcoming events, and while I was there I received a text from Himself.  Apparently, Dude had taken advantage of my absence and floated one in the bath.  Not even a small one.  A hefty, full size poo.  In the tub.  Which of course meant that Himself had to fish it out, drain the tub and shower the boy.  I, of course, found this highly amusing. Until yesterday. I really needed to wash my hair, and Dude had painted himself with the Nutella from his toast, so I thought to save time and take him in with me.  He likes to sit under the showerhead anyway, so I got on with washing my hair while he played with his dinosaur.  (This is not a euphemism.  He keeps a t-rex in the bathroom for this very purpose.)  I got out to throw on some clothes and planned to grab him once dressed. That's when he started shouting. Now, I figured the water had gone c...

So, after the last post (sort of during it, really) I started to break out in hives.  Like, all over my body, red, raised, stinging hives.  Spreading, changing formation, travelling fun.  I ended up in A&E for a hefty dose of steroids and antihistamines and was told it was stress.  Go figure.  So, I had to stop the boot camp and the running, and have been trying to take it easier, get more sleep, drink more water, etc. to destress and get my body back to normal.  I was completely gutted, I thought that I was finally on my way to being more active, healthier, perhaps even thinner... meh. Anyway, a friend in the states has been posting about this stuff she's been using for almost a month.  She's lost over a stone, has loads of energy and feels generally fabulous.  Honestly, I didn't put much credence to it, I'm pretty skeptical when it comes to "miracle pills".  Ketones, green coffee, whatever the heck else is out there, it all sounds too...

So, it's been a weird month for me.  I had some childhood stuff rear its ugly head through a trigger I didn't even know existed.  It manifested in a few weeks of bulimia and smoking, a lot of feeling miserable, one long and involved unaired blog post, and a few very honest conversations with various family members.  I've kicked the bulimia (for now), haven't quite managed to give up the smokes, but have started some positive behaviours by attending a boot camp twice a week and running a couple of times a week with a friend or by myself (with Dude in the pushchair of course). As part of my attempt at a fresh start, I attempted a conversation with another family member that has been estranged for a while.  Bad idea.  See, I'm an asshole. So let me just put this out there.  I embrace the asshole-dom.  Pretty much every bad thing I had to live through in my life came from people not having the difficult conversations.  It wasn't "their business" t...

So, I've never been super picky about my hair.  If I got a bad cut (and I've had a few) I figured I could either cut it short and start again or wait for it to grow out.  No big deal. However, I never paid big bucks to get it done.  If I wanted the colour changed, I did it myself.  Sometimes Himself helped.  I went through just about every colour of the rainbow in my twenties, including blacklight sensitive shades, just ask The Mimi.  *grin* Anyway, I decided that for my 35th birthday, I wanted to try the ombre thing.  Sister Two has had the blonde version for a while, and I like the way it looks, but I've never been one to do anything halfway.  Purple was the way to go.  I trawled Pinterest for a good picture to show the stylist and settled on the below. Cute, right?  I know, I've not got fringe, a thin face, or a swanky hat, but I figured it was a good jumping off point for the shade of purple I liked.  You'll notice, t...

I'm used to little fingers in and around my mouth.  Most of the time they're forcibly inserted for the purposes of making me pretend to eat them, eliciting giggles from both bratlets.  Sometimes it's to make a grab for my barbell, which has thus far (thankfully) been unsuccessful.  Other times it's to share food.  It's a regular occurrence. So when Dude sat in my lap earlier while I was attempting to check my email, I didn't think twice when he shoved his stubby little finger in my mouth. That's when I felt something squish. I can tell you, I looked up from my email sharpish.  I pulled his finger out and saw with mounting horror something looking suspiciously like poo.  I'm frantically casting my eyes over his body, and I won't lie, I'm gagging a little at the thought that he's dipped that stubby little finger into the back of his nappy, when I realise that he's scraped bird poo (the lovely green goosey kind) off my shoe on the floo...