Monday continues

Bear has been sent home with the dire rear.  He is generous with his germs, I am flagging.  On top of all the problems with uncle over the weekend (doing much better, thank goodness) I am feeling a bit low.

Something is definitely wrong.  I remember that I dreamed vividly but sadly I only remember that I was chased by a dinosaur that was wearing a pink knitted cardigan with flower buttons.  This sort of dream is usually a sign that I need a bit of a break.

School rules mean that bear has to be home at least tomorrow and as his tummy still seems to be a bit challenged then I suspect it will be a day or two more.  I expect to see a lot more about nerf guns.

It could all be worse.  All I need to do now is convince bear that having a drink of water or squash is not for wimps.

Bear is Lovely

Bear bought me loads of candles, a porcelain teaspoon which I have coveted

And made a huge fuss of me.

Uncle slept through my visit.

I don't deserve bear, I really don't.  He is just so lovely.  I feel very blessed.

Questions Mothers Have to Ask

"Why is my dishwasher manual hidden under a pile of your old dressing up clothes?"

I'll ask bear when he comes back from his trip to the cinema with DH.  I'm not expecting much of a reply.

I am in Big Trouble

Bear is watching Gordon Ramsay on YouTube.  He wants to try out all the recipes.  Or rather, he wants me to try out all the recipes while he supervises.

I don't have a chance.

I didn't drop it down the stairs

And I forgot to take a photo.

There has been a heavy blanket chest in bear's room for ages.  However things keep getting stacked on top of it, so it just doesn't get used.  It was full of out of date, too small dressing up clothes.  We have moved one new storage unit up into bear's room and now we needed space for another one that would replace the chest and actually be used.  There is one waiting as I type, sitting under the living room window looking smug (and full, but that's another story!).

In a random moment I emptied the chest and asked nice Mr Next Door to take it downstairs for me.  He promised me that he would but he needed to help out a friend with a tricky problem and a deadline first.  In an even more random moment I decided to take the blanket chest down myself.

There should be a word for that moment half way down the stairs when you realise that you are humping something seriously hefty and you have bitten off more than you can safely chew.  It's that moment when you pause half way with a piece of solid wooden furniture wedged half way down and think - am I going to be stuck here for hours and do I have my phone on me to call for help, although to be fair the last time I managed that it was a metal storage unit that was slightly taller than me.  Today I was staring at the door at the bottom of the stairs and wondering how cross DH would be if I crashed into it.  It is a solid blanket chest, constructed from planks and heavy iron hinges.  The door at the bottom of the stairs wouldn't have had a chance.  However I am now incredibly smug as I got the blanket chest and me safely down the steps and out into the garden.

Nice Mr Next Door was happy to take it off my hands, together with the enamel potato bin that I had lusted after and bought in a moment of weakness and then had to watch it go rusty.

So that is one solid blanket box that needed restoration but is probably vintage and one definitely antique set of drawers out of the house and mdf and IKEA self assembly in.  I am glad we sent the drawers to Emmaus.  They do such good work and the thought of trying to work out how to get it fit to sell and the delay in getting rid of it was daunting.  It was a lovely piece, but too big for the house really and not what was needed for what we need to store now.  The blanket box was always a bit of a nuisance as in theory we should have been able to do all sorts with it, but it never happened and now we have a space that can be used properly.

Now I am off to visit uncle in the hope I can find him awake at this time.  

Need a talking to

I visited uncle this morning after dropping bear off at school.  He didn't know where he was.  I am not entirely sure that he recognised me.  He only woke up briefly then went back to sleep, just like yesterday.  I spoke to the nurse and uncle is a bit confused at the moment.  There is no guarantee when he will be awake.  I'm going to try going up at lunch time, when he should be awake after a meal.  This is a foul time of day for me, as it chops the day up awkwardly.

I picked bear (completely exhausted) up from school, where a notice taped to the door said that all children in bear's class needed to have stuff like jogging bottoms etc as the planned visit from football coaches would be there tomorrow.  In other words, less than 24 hours to make sure he had the school leggings.  He doesn't, as they are not generally used.  I am not impressed.  The poor lad will be in jogging bottoms, but at least he will have warning.  There was no note sent home, but there was a note on the poorly advertised school site.  I suspect there will be plenty of kids out in the cold with shorts and no trainers.

I started typing this but it has been a bit stop start as bear has lost the rubber from the end of his pencil and the world has ended.  He really needs to get some extra sleep, but is refusing vehemently.  I am wondering if 4.30pm is too early for strong drink.

I'm finding it hard to find the positive at the moment.  I think I will slink away and see if I can dig out a good attitude from somewhere.

Uncle has a phone

Uncle has his own phone back.  Sigh.

9.40pm last night our phone went.  As no-one we know phones that late DH shot to the phone.  It was uncle.
"Where are you?" He asked when DH passed me the phone.  "I'm just sitting here on my own, no-one is coming near me."
"I can't do much about that at nearly ten o'clock at night." I said as deadpan as I could manage.
"Is it night time?  I thought it was ten o'clock in the morning."

To his credit uncle was a bit embarrassed when he realised and got off the phone very quickly.  I expect this is not the last of such calls.  I am so glad that he isn't in sheltered housing and that we managed to get him to residential.