Thursday 26 February 2015

Doctor! Doctor!

I have totally jinxed myself!

Just as a quick re-cap I recently blogged about my way-too-often-broken babies a week or two ago, and that was the first visit to a doctor or hospital for ages.

And now we are back to semi-normal.

Last weekend the Pixie was trodden on by a horse. Just in case anyone is worried, the horse is fine. So is Pixie. The girls have grown up around their grandfather's trotting horses so, to be honest, I am surprised that they have not been trodden on before.

In the stables.

The sad bit is that my first thought at the doctors' surgery was "Wow! We haven't been here for ages", followed by "fond" memories of the hours of study I did in those chairs when we were going through a particularly bad run.

I also thought about how lucky we have been with some of the random medical professionals we have met who could have been hand-picked for our needs:

  • A doctor who had a son who had randomly chosen to be vegetarian at the same age Pixie did when we went to get her iron checked;
  • A physio who had trained in ballet at the WA Academy of Performing Arts when Buglet hurt her ankle; and
  • A nurse who had fractured her tailbone falling off slide when Buglet was in hospital for her knee, but was having problems sitting due to previous injuries.

This week's effort was a doctor who's daughter sets the high school exams for ballet. He totally got why I wanted an all clear before letting Pixie go back to pointe class. 

Sometimes you just meet the right people at the right time.

However, I should not have spoken too soon! Tuesday night I got a phone call to get Buglet from dancing as she had hurt her foot ... back to the hospital. 

Pixie is particularly unhelpful when she is trying to be helpful sometimes. Her very supportive comments included:

(Brightly) At least you didn't damage a perfectly good ankle.

(Confused) Are we taking her* too? (Ah yes! Considering *Buglet was the reason I was there, and the reason we were leaving early).

(Helpfully) Would you like me to stroke her? Mama! I can't reach her! Sorry, Buglet I can't stroke you. Buglet was crying at this point, and some of her words included strong indications that being stroked by the Pixie would be particularly unhelpful.

Fortunately it was just a bad sprain, and Buglet will be ok, and Pixie was right about one thing, it is a good thing that it was already damaged foot. 



Disclaimer:
  • It is doubtful I am qualified to give parenting advice, there is still time for me to stuff up.
  • I should clearly not be allowed to give safety advice.
  • I am most definitely not allowed to give medical advice*.
  • I am not even allowed to give legal advice without supervision.
I would recommend finding more reliable sources for any advice of any nature.

*I do sometimes prescribe chocolate though. Accept this advice at your own risk.

Thursday 5 February 2015

The same ... but just a little bit different ( aka B2S Part 1)

Monday was back to school day.

Buglet started school in 2003, so you think I should be good at this, it's been 12 years.

But this year was actually quite a lot different.

All three girls are in high school. Turns out having three high school daughters is a lot different from having primary school daughters.

No prepackaged stationary supplies nicely ordered through school (Yes, I did actually achieve this once or twice in their primary school years, but to be fair I did the mad school run at Wooldridges more often than not. Yes, I do know technically you can do this at high school too but I learnt my lesson the hard way with this one. There is a lot of guess work on the high school list and I found Buglet didn't use most of it).

Hair is a big issue.

Not just a standard hair cut though. Buglet very sensibly told a family friend that she really needed straighteners before high school because "you can't go to high school with bad hair" (family friend made sure I was aware of this, Santa also got the message, she picked well).

Anyway, I thought I was well prepared for the hair scenario.

Nope. Hair dye was the thing this year. Tink went red, and the Pixie's is still a shade of blue if you look closely. Buglet went blonde, hated it (me too) and is now back to brown.



Ok so this picture doesn't make it look as dramatic as it sounds, but considering I didn't dye my hair until my mid-20s I wasn't emotionally ready for this.

But wait! There is more.

High on Buglet's back-to-school preparation was having her eyebrows waxed.

Tink made sure she got her promised ear piercing. Belated birthday present from her grandmother because she very sensibly decided not to get it done just before she went to Singapore.



This is not the way things used to be. On the upside, none of the girls wore matching socks. Some things never change.

And just in case you were in any doubt about their grown-up-ness, my domestic goddess moment of making the girls breakfast turned into this:

Buglet: Aren't you going to Bunnings?
Me: No. I am making you breakfast.
Buglet: I will do that. Just be back by 7:45.
Me: You just want me out of the way while you get ready for school.
Buglet: Yep.

My pots were an awesome buy. The bacon sandwiches and banana smoothie were even better because I didn't make them. Definitely winning.

They had a great first day. DB picked them up because I had an after work meeting (Pixie conceded that whilst this wasn't tradition it would do).

No rang me to tell me about their day (I am still a little sulky about this), but when I finally got hold of them I found out that Buglet had made it to dance. Tink was having a nap, and the Pixie didn't get run over by senior students. More information forthcoming when I made it home.

A successful day was had by all. Except possibly me. My heart has just been a little bit broken ....

Oh, and in answer to the most common question. No - I don't feel old. If anything, I feel stupidly young.

Disclaimer:
  • It is doubtful I am qualified to give parenting advice, there is still time for me to stuff up.
  • Clearly, I am no longer able to give advice as a primary school parent.
  • I am not even allowed to give legal advice without supervision.
I would recommend finding more reliable sources for any advice of any nature.