Another child. Another allergy.

Cor what a day. This week the Boy has gone back to his sleep steeling ways - our eyes physically ache.  But today there was no time for snoozing as it was an early trip on the tube as it was his appointment at St Thomas' Allergy Clinic. We would finally find out if, like his big sister, the route of his blues lays with his diet.

To cut a long story short - yep it is. Bugger.

The skin prick tests show he is anaphylaxis. But they suspect he has more internal issues too, and we have had to eliminate soya, wheat and dairy from our diets, as well as the foods that bought his skin out in hives.

I say 'our diet' as I am still breastfeeding him. The doctors asked me in their all too familiar 'trying not to tell her what to do' tone how long I plan to breastfeed. I don't know. With Little P, I continued to feed for another two months after she was diagnosed. But I had to face facts that she is so riddled with allergies that it was impossible to control what she was reacting too. So I stopped, but it broke my heart. And now I face the same dilemma.

Part of me says stop and put him exclusively on the special prescription formula. It makes sense. We can then completely control his diet and know exactly what foods coincide with any reactions on his skin and nappy. But the other part of me thinks we are not ready yet - both me and the Boy. I can't really explain why, but my instinct tells me to try for a bit longer and we'll see how we go.

The time will come when I know its time to stop. Until then, it's bye bye chocolate.

Silent Sunday

Toddler Shrink

You know how it goes - I'm tired, the kids cry as if in cahoots to send me over the edge, both want pick up, neither will eat, it's raining outside, my fringe is kinky.

Sitting on the floor in the Boys room getting them ready for their bath I pour my heart out to Little P, chatting to her as if she is some kind of therapist.

"I'm tired," I tell her. "You're my apples you two, but some days it all just gets a bit crazy..."

"look at my hands. Look. Feel how dry they are...."

.....And so it flowed. My worries, my woes, told like a drunken friend but without the joy of alcohol.

Her response? She placed the turtle shape sorter on my head. "There mummy. All better."

She's got a bright future that one.

Gym? Who's he?

We were late leaving the house so I walked like the wind was behind me (it wasn't) and pushed the double buggy to Little P's class in 8 minutes flat. 8 MINUTES. It usually takes twenty.

Sweaty, red and breathless. But on time.

We had a lovely walk back. Little P walked nearly all the way, stopping at just about every front garden to look at the flowers. We got home just in time to make dinner. Except with shoes and coats off Little P asked for her Yogi.

(a note about Yogi. To you and me it is a square of cut up bed sheet with a ribbon trim. To her it is life itself).

I looked high and low. My heart sank. So on went the coats and shoes and we headed back out to retrace our steps.

Up the hill, along the highroad, past the wheelie bins (which I looked in). No sign.The boy started to cry as dinner time and been and gone. I hot footed it back home panting comforting words about being nearly home and such like.

When I finally shut the front door I was knackered, huffing and puffing, hot and bothered. The boy was puce and wet with tears. I was beetroot and wet with sweat. And Little P? Well she was sitting happily in the front deck of the pram, thumb in mouth cuddling Yogi.

Humpf.

Catching up

so what have you missed.....

The Boy is teething. In fact he has teethed. Two arrived and did we know it. We had a week of earplugs, calpol and sleeping with him in my arms (I know you are not supposed to do this but I did)

His eczema cleared up. Even the stubborn spot on his third eye (not to be mistaken for his Harry Potter stork mark flashing across his forehead). For four days his skin became peachy and soft. Clear and blemish free. It's back now, angrier than ever. Sigh.

He waves.

He likes to laugh at his sister. As we all do.

He's a bit lazy. He won't sit up, preferring to just flop, or better still lull against his mummy's chest. Her boob if she's offering.

Little P likes the sound of her own voice. Quite a lot. She even talks in her sleep. At least she is now able to string sentences together and is making sense. Sort of. She still chats to Mimi and Nat (who?) and now a third friend, Milly-Rose (not to be mistaken with Green Balloon Club's Lily-Rose).

She has show business in her bones.

She has started ballet. At her first class all the little girls dressed in pink held hands and showed grace. Little p wore Adidas high tops and black and blue stripy tights and stomped round in circles. mmmm.

She worries.

Mr Scruff got knocked off his bike. Shaken up for sure but thankfully he only suffered with very sore ribs but they were soon on the mend. Then he did a monkey impression, and now it hurts to breath. Lessen learned.

I am back at work. Except I now work for me. And I am a tough boss, working my staff (that's me) every free minute, not even stopping to breast feed (should you receive an email from me all in lower case...you now know why).

I have learned to always check the brightness of my tights before leaving the house. And burbing baby in 'meeting' attire will always result in a change of clothing.

I'm tired. Still a bit too wobbly round the middle but I have a new fringe. All is good.

well hello stranger.

friends, followers and passers by.

I'd love to say my break away from my blog has left me bronzed, sun-kissed, svelte. It hasn't. I have barely left the house and the box of Heros kindly sent to me has done nothing but evil to my waistline. I am still chasing my tail, desperately trying to juggle my new career and two kids, but, BUT, I missed you. I really did. More than I thought.

I actually have written a whole long post on all the reasons why I needed to take a break, but I just deleted it. You don't need to know all that. I don't need to share it. I'm just going to carry on, in my own time and in my own way.

I will share one little nugget. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder xx