I love it when a plan comes together

To be more precise, I love it when Plans A & B are dead in the water, but you just about manage to pull off Plan C...

We've decided to do a quiet Christmas day this year - just the four of us. We figure that little E has earnt the right to stay in the comfort of his own home, opening stacks of presents and proceeding to play with them for hours and hours.

However, we didn't want to miss out on family & friends completely, so we invited a few over to celebrate "Christmas Day" with us on Sunday. The plan was that I'd cook a full Christmas lunch, we'd then open a few pressies and I'd do a "nibbly" tea.

The day started well. K manfully headed down to the supermarket to brave the throngs of angry shoppers and pick up the meat. I attempted to tidy up the house which proved to be more of a challenge than I'd anticipated. For every one thing I put away, the boys got three out. So by the time I'd been tidying for 30 minutes the lounge carpet was no longer visible and the boys had moved on to making mess in other rooms!

Being the nurturing type of Mum that I am (ahem), I caved in pretty quickly and sat them in front of the TV to at least try and stem the flow of toys, tinsel and teddies that were hitting the floor at such an alarming rate.

K swept in from the shop, battered & bruised, but bearing the food and we got to work, singing the obligatory Xmas songs (me with perhaps a little more gusto than K!).

The guests arrived, the wine started flowing and with 15 minutes to go on the mains I plated up the starters, ready to head in the dining room. (I don't mind admitting that I was feeling a little bit smug at this point). That was when the oven made a spluttering noise, followed by a whirring sound best described as a car battery dying, and then the whole thing went quiet and the lights on it died.

I think I stared in abject horror for a while, then plastered a smile on my face, took in the starters and asked K if I could have a word - and could he bring the wine with him. Of course, within seconds everyone knew what had happened and we spent the next 10 minutes wondering if there was enough heat left in the oven to finish cooking the meat & veg. Turns out the meat was done until it was medium/rare (beef - so perfect), the potatoes & parsnips were cooked but not crunchy (can't have everything) and the pigs-in-blankets appeared good to go. All in all - not a complete disaster.

Some hours later and a number of bottles down, I served up cold meats & cheeses for tea and no one seemed to lament the lack of any warm food.

It looks as though we may have found a company that can fit a new oven on Christmas Eve, weather permitting. This would be brilliant, but to be honest, neither K or I think it's the end of the world if we end up enjoying a sandwich for our Christmas meal. After all, we got what we wanted this year - all four of us still very much alive and kicking.

Losing weight's a good thing, no?

So fatfighters has generally been going fairly well. I say generally as the party season is now upon me and the dust, rabbit food & diet drinks in my cupboards seem to have been replaced by cheese, chocolate & wine. I'm still doing lots of thinking about exercise and healthy eating though - so that surely has to count for something!

Overall I've managed to lose enough weight to need to get my suits taken in - which I duly did last week. All good.. or is it?

This morning my company announced its financial results for the last year. It's a big deal for us so on results days I have to be in the office, bright eyed and bushy tailed, no later than 7am to start telling our story.

Cue this morning: a bleary-eyed shower at 5.15am, trowelled on some make-up to help with the "bright-eyed" look, pulled on one of the newly tailored suits, and tumbled into the waiting taxi. The problem was, I really did tumble.

My skirt had been taken in but the tailor hadn't put a slit back in, which meant that when I went to lift my leg to put a foot into the cab, my movement was restricted as the skirt wouldn't stretch any further. I was already over-balancing and there was nothing I could do except fall face first onto the seat. I then had to turn myself over, haul myself across the back seat and sort of swing my legs round. The taxi driver managed a polite "Erm - ready now love?". I demured and we set off.

Results day is always hectic, but only being able to travel a couple of inches with each step, and having to get help every time I wanted to climb the stairs really added an extra dimension!

Weight loss is definitely a good thing - but now and again there are a few unforeseen drawbacks!

They grow up so quickly

It's an accepted wisdom that you should enjoy your children whilst they're young as they'll fly the nest before you know it. Now, I'm not debating that that is the case, but if like me you're still dealing with sleepless nights, sickness bugs and tantrums that make Attila the Hun seem like a teddy bear, it's not something that you tend to dwell on.

However, a conversation I had with my 4.5 year old recently started me thinking about this concept. He'd just gone through the bath and we were snuggling down for stories when he asked me what age he had to be to move out. Taken by surprise I plumped for 18. (Although having recently agreed to spend my Sunday mornings in the freezing cold watching him play rugby I'm thinking I ahould have gone younger!). 

C processed this information and then immediately started planning his departure. He decided that he'd have to be married (I argued that point but he seems to have a firm belief!). He quickly worked out that whilst he'd like to marry me, I was already married to Daddy & he'd probably be better off with someone his own age. So he plumped for his little friend P.

I asked if they planned to live nearby and was told no, he wouldn't have thought so, more likely that he and P would move to France or Saturn where they'd grow carrots, cucumbers & courgettes. He'd also get a job as either an astronaut, archaeologist, doctor (injectionist) or dinosaur.

So that's that then. Life is all planned out. (P seems to be going along with the plan although I'm not convinced she's been fully appraised of the details yet!).

C agrees he may still have a few lessons to learn but on the whole he feels that he's not too far off being a man (lovely situation a few weeks ago when he had a frog in his throat and thought his voice was breaking!). He believes he's pretty much got "life" covered though and knows the answers to most questions.

 

Prime example: I took him cycling in the park yesterday. As we went along he asked me why the path was cracked. I tried as best as I could to explain the theory of expansion and contraction and C listened carefully. At the end of my explanation he declared that he didn't think I was quite right on this point and felt the cracks were more likely to have been made by giant squirrels with massive claws.

 

With that kind of logic who knows how many more years I'll be standing out in the wind & rain for! And with little E currently tugging at my jean leg and shouting "up", I don't think my lot are flying the nest any time soon.

 

Your exits are here, here and here

"You couldn't make it up, could you". This was the phrase uttered by the rather incredulous taxi driver who met me at the airport yesterday evening after my day-trip to Belgium.

Well - in the interests of full disclosure Mr taxi driver - I have a very wild imagination and definitely could make it up. If I had made it up, however, I most certainly would have cast myself as a bit more stoic and a bit less grey and wobbly.

Let me explain.

Yesterday morning I flew to Belgium for a meeting. Flight was due to take off at 8.30 but was postponed due to bad weather. An hour later things were looking better though and the pilot took his seat in the cockpit. He got himself comfy and switched on the tannoy to make his announcement. I was expecting something along the lines of: "Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I'm your pilot David Wallington-Smyth, etc, etc". What I got was: "Morning ladies and gents. I'm your pilot, Dave". Unexpected, but not too off-putting as it was a fairly small plane and I felt sure Dave would be able to wing us across the ocean with few problems.

As it turned out, the weather had different ideas. Within 10 minutes of bumping around in the air I was reminded of how awful travel sickness is. I started taking some deep breaths and tried hard to look vaguely normal so as not alarm the man next to me too much. The plane steadied out a bit, I started feeling better and the stewardess brought some drinks round.

Just as everyone had their hot coffee (mine was a water which under the circumstances proved to be a godsend) the plane started lurching again. In fact, it started dropping. Over and over again. Coffee's were spilt over laps, two ladies behind me started screaming (bit of an excessive reaction - but I could see where they were coming from!), and a few minutes later the lady sitting across the aisle started making good use of her sick bag. I'd given up all pretence of not feeling violently ill and my knuckles were turning white from holding onto the armrest so hard. When I turned to give a watery apology to the man next to me he looked so pale I figured I'd just keep schtum!

The journey did improve slightly meaning that I managed to get away with keeping my stomach contents, but by the time we reached Antwerp it was all I could do to wobble off the plane and thump down unceremoniously on the nearest bit of solid ground!

So my long-standing dream of one day being able to disembark from a plane looking as though I've "just stepped out of a salon" wasn't to be realised yesterday (how do people do it?!). Not to worry though - there's another trip at the end of the month so perhaps it'll happen then!

Crusty coffee trousers...

The trials and tribulations of everyday life have hit back with a vengeance!

This morning all I had to do was get myself ready for work, drop C at school and drive myself to the office.

It didn't quite go according to plan:

Woke up feeling a itchy. Looked in the mirror and realised that I'd had an allergic reaction to something and had massive red blotches all over my neck, torso, arms and hands - and my eyes were swollen. Mmm - attractive. Decided to battle through as I hadn't been to the office for a week and felt I really should show my face!

Got myself sorted as best I could (sporting huge scarf which resulted in numerous questions from C). C and I then jumped into the car for the 10 minute journey to school. Two minutes in I get "Mummy,  I'm desperate for the toilet". I tell him to hold on. One minute later "Mummy, I really am very desperate." Once again - told to hang on. One minute later "Mummy - if you don't find me a toilet right now I think I'm just going to do it here in the car". Arghhhh. I managed to distract him until we reached school and delivered him to his teachers.

Feeling rather frazzled (and itchy) I got back in the car to start my 1.5 hour journey to work. Having sat in the Monday morning traffic for about 20 minutes I remembered that I'd made myself a travel mug of coffee. I gratefully picked it up to take a big swig. Turns out the seal had gone on the lid and I ended up throwing a load of coffee down my shirt and onto my trousers.

At this point I figured I had two options. Option one - go home and curl up into a little ball. Perfectly accepatable under the circumstances. Option two - rumage around in the glove box and find large packet of chocolate buttons originally intended for the boys. Wolf them all down by 9am. I chose option two. No - chocolate buttons aren't on the fatfighters recommended eating list - but at this stage I didn't really care!

So I arrived in the office, rather late, face and neck lit up like a red belisher beacon, and in what had dried out to be rather crusty, coffee smelling trousers.

My colleagues are in for a treat today...

The man's a frickin' genius

Yesterday we were told by E's cardiac consultant that as long as the fluid around his heart doesn't intensify we'll be able to bring the little man home later today.

On receiving this news both K and I began showering the man with thank you's and promises of life-long adoration.

E, however, seemed less impressed. He brushed off the genius he owes his life to with a wave of his hand, turned away and promptly launched himself into the arms of the attractive lady consultant who happened to be doing rounds at the same time - showering her in hugs & kisses. 

Awkward! Although I'm of course delighted to have E back at the top of his game.

I'm not, however, as delighted to have to go and donate blood. A few days ago when things weren't looking particularly rosy, E was given a couple of blood transfusions. I rashly offered up a silent promise to whichever deity was listening that if E came through okay I'd make my way to a blood bank on a regular basis (I hate offering up my veins as a pin cushion & am such a big girls's blouse that I once pranged the car after giving blood as my sugar level was too low).

Someone up there obviously thought it might be worth a chuckle though, so as E's due home I best find a blood bank near me and sign up. If anyone fancies joining me I'd be glad of the company - and a chocolate biscuit & lift home:-)

Just to finish on a slightly more serious note. I've been absolutely amazed by the tireless dedication of the nursing staff at the Evelina and, in particular, the ICU staff. They work as a flawless team - one that any business would pay good money to be able to emulate. There's no room for personal egos in that room. A confidence that between them and their colleagues they'll do the right thing - yes. But no personal glory hunters.

They saved E's life (after the surgeon saved it and the consultant before that!), so they'll be held in highest regards by me and my family forevermore.

Take a deep breath and man up

Right then. Little E is off for open heart surgery again tomorrow - second time in six months.

Whilst his Dad and I have once again been reduced to blithering messes, he's just going about his business.

Granted he doesn't really understand what's about to happen. But given that his heart is struggling to pump oxygen, the fact that outwardly he's still as determined & mischievous as ever bodes well. In anticipation of tomorrow he's flirted with the nurses, hi-fived the surgeon & looked menacingly at the anaesthetist. Bring it on...

My company have once again stepped up and been great about me unexpectedly taking some time off, so that's one less thing I need to worry about.

C is about to be spoilt rotten by his grandparents for a few days and is looking forward to visiting E when he's up and about so that he can go on the helter skelter, play on the table football and, oh yes, see his brother. (The hospital - The Evelina - caters exclusively for children and has the most incredible set up).

So I best take a leaf out of the boy's book - take a deep breath, "man up" and check out some of the toys whilst I'm waiting for E's return.

Little 'uns & work

Yesterday I needed to speak to the CEO of our Australian region.

Because of the time difference we decided an 8am call would be best. Usually no problem except that on a Friday I try to do the school drop off. Work/life balance and all that.

I bundled the boys into the car and a minute later the phone rang. Before picking up (hands free of course!) I gave very clear instructions to the boys that they needed to keep quiet.

Apparently I was talking to myself.

As soon as the CEO started to speak E started yelling "gaga!" (his word for Grandad) at the top of his voice - over and over again.

C was quieter but making "Wow" sounds and trying to check with the CEO that he really was calling all the way from Australia.

To give him his due, the CEO valiantly battled through, pausing every now and again when E's yells of Grandad became too loud to hear anything else!

The struggle with Williams Syndrome

I usually find this blog very easy to write. There are numerous things on a daily basis that make me smile, but this week I've been stuck. Each time I start to write up an amusing anecdote, the words won't form properly. So, whilst I generally like to keep this blog light-hearted, I've decided to use just this one posting to talk about what's really on my mind today.

Many of you know that little E has Williams Syndrome (WS). Because it's so rare the parents and carers of WS people form communities where we share tips and provide encouragement for each other (bringing up a child with WS can be a struggle sometimes).

Very sadly, our community had two young children pass away this week. It's heart-breaking on so many levels. These children (and adults) fight so hard every single day of their lives to achieve what comes naturally to most of us. And they do it with big smiles on their faces - making sure that everyone around them is as happy as they can be.

E goes into hospital again next week for another MRI on his heart. He needs more surgery and the consultants are using the MRI to check if they can get away with keyhole rather than open heart this time round. WS people don't deal with sedation very well so each time E goes under we're rolling the dice with his life. But we don't really have much of a choice. If we don't give him the operation, his time with us will almost certainly go from years to months.

He's an amazing little boy - just like the other two little children were - and my heart goes out to their families.

I'm sorry that I haven't left you with a smile today, but it felt wrong not to acknowledge what's happened.

I have no doubt that within a few hours of this being published something will happen to get me chuckling again and I'll be back next time with a little slice of humour.

Williams Syndrome is a non-hereditary, rare disoder caused by an abnormality in chromosomes. WS people have a unique pattern of emotional, physical and mental strengths and weaknesses. Along with medical issues such as possible heart defects and occasional kidney damage, they have developmental issues and become anxious very easily. They are also some of the friendliest and cheekiest people I've ever met.

A storming time

Yesterday we had what I class as a typical "Metcalfe" day at the beach. (Metcalfe was my maiden name and holiday mishaps with my family were varied and plenty).

A day at the beach was on the cards and the plan was the following:

• Get everyone up and through the shower in a decent time in the morning. Check.
• Drive quickly to the supermarche, pick up baguette & cheese, race back to the Gite and make lunch. Check
• Drive to the beach. Check
• Enjoy a lovely day in the sunshine playing the sand... Erm

Turns out we didn't race around quick enough in the morning so by the time we parked up at the seafront it was almost lunchtime. Our cunning plan was to demolish lunch in the car and then we could spend the next few hours on the beach - avoiding the whole "sand in sandwich" issue. 

By the time we finished eating we noticed that the sky was clouding over but didn't think too much of it. Out of the car we all tumbled and joyfully made our way to the beach. It was a bit of a trek over the sand dunes & when we got there the wind had really picked up. We noticed that all the surfers and sunbathers were packing up but figured they were off to find some lunch.

We decided on our "spot" and as we put our bags down C commented he thought he'd felt some wet on his head. "That's the spray from the sea" K and I said - although judging by the dark clouds that were quickly rolling in I doubt we sounded very confident.

Less than five seconds later the heavens opened and rain lashed down. This was followed swiftly by loud thunder cracks. 

Soaked through, K and I gathered everything up and shouted to C that we had to run back to the car (by this time the weather was so loud we couldn't hear each other if we talked normally). C got very upset as he'd really wanted to play on the beach - and we had promised.

At this point, sane human beings wouldn't have listened to the 4 year old - instead choosing to head back to safety. However, we figured there's only so wet you can get and as long as we didn't go in the water - where was the harm? After a minute or two I did gather E up and head back to the car as he clearly wasn't impressed, but K and C had a delightful time playing on the beach in the thunderstorm.

 

 

It's raining again today and C has already asked if we can go to the beach...

From glamourpuss to dogs-dinner

There is a type of woman who can breeze through the day looking effortlessly beautiful, never drawing attention to herself with a faux pas and always ending the night looking the same way as she started.

I am apparently not one of them.

On Saturday the sun was high in the sky. My hair was shiny. My dress was glamorous. I was at a wedding with old friends and the promise of champagne lurked a few hundred yards away. Lady luck was smiling down.

And then she started chuckling. And once she’d had a chuckle it was apparently too difficult for her not to break into a full fit of giggles.

The church was on top of a hill and the reception was a few hundred yards below. The path to get between the two was steep and made of exceptionally shiny stone. After the service I started to carefully pick my way down said path. I took small steps – after all I was on a mission to retain the glamorous illusion - but unfortunately it came to an end all too abruptly. My heel slipped from underneath me and I thumped down unceremoniously onto my backside. It hurt a bit (the bruises are looking pretty good!) but it was mainly my pride that was wounded.

I decided that in the scheme of things I could live with the embarrassment so up I got, dusted myself down (a little mud on the back of the dress but nothing too noticeable) and carried on to the reception. Where an hour later I managed to throw mango chutney down the front of my dress. Well - it was going to need dry-cleaning anyway after the mud episode so why do things by halves?!

My Mum & Dad were also at the reception and when I came across them a bit later Mum was struggling to get the heel of her shoe out of the wooden decking where it had become lodged and Dad was wiping food off his tie.

Perhaps it was never my destiny to be one of the breezy women!

Galloping sans horse - Miranda style

As part of my effort to shed the pounds (well – stones but let’s pretend it’s pounds) I realised I needed to do some exercise. I discounted going to the gym & swimming (convincing myself that it was too difficult to fit the exercise, shower & hair wash into a lunch hour). I discounted jogging - mainly because I don't like it if I'm being honest. I dabbled with dancing (Strictly style of course) but 8pm on a Friday night just didn't work for me.

So I was left with walking.

So on the days I work from home I now try and take a brisk walk for 40 minutes round the park.

I thought ahead and downloaded an audio book to keep me company. The particular audio book I’m listening to is “Is It Just Me?" by Miranda Hart. I know she’s not to some people’s taste but there are sections of the book where I laugh out loud – much to my fellow walkers shock.

Today whilst I was walking it struck me that whilst I have lots of “grown up” fun, I haven’t really done anything silly in a while. At the point I was thinking this Miranda happened to be listing things that people could do to add some joy to their daily lives: playing hopscotch, galloping, singing to Billy Joel... hang on. Back-track a minute. Galloping. Hmmm.

I was on the path in the park but to my left was a huge field with overgrown grass and wild flowers in it. I looked around. There were only 7 people in view. Seemed like good odds. So I proceeded to run and gallop through the field. I reached the end, smoothed my hair down and carried on with my walk as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Such fun!

A few odd looks came my way, but I really enjoyed it! I predict a rousing rendition of Uptown Girl later today...

Fat-fighting frustrations

 

Almost 2 years after E burst onto the scene (that's another story but let's just say that almost giving birth in a car park isn't for the faint-hearted!), I decided that it really was time to lose the baby weight. E is small for his age but even I could see the doubt in people's eyes when I talked about my "new" baby!

And so began 5 months of Fat fighters. Because I work full time I wasn't able to go and face weekly humiliation from Marjorie's Dawes. Instead I joined up online, threw out all my chocolate & filled the cupboards up with rabbit food & dust.

 

I'm doing pretty well - couple of dress sizes dropped & I haven't heard the sound of a seam splitting for a while. 

This week my resolved was sorely tested though.

I went to the US for work and whilst the hotel was lovely and the company enjoyable, the food was pretty dire. On the first morning I asked for an omelette with peppers & mushrooms - fairly acceptable on the health-ometer. When it turned up it had a stack of cheese in it. Ok. Note to self, ask for it sans cheese tomorrow. Not to worry though I thought, I'll just take it easy at lunch. Which proved fairly difficult as lunch was pizza or bruschetta. So - bread or bread then. Well, there were always the cookies or chocolate brownies to take my mind off it!

The food did improve a bit over the next few days and I even spied some greenery at one point. Overall I didn't do too badly and my resolve is still firm as I really don't want to resort to getting my clothes in "Mum" shops yet.

There are a few restaurant trips coming up though so we'll see how things go...

 

That ol' debate again...

As I took my 2.5 minutes under the shower this morning, avoiding the bath toys that were being thrown in by my youngest in an attempt to make me happy, I pondered how I’m getting on with the whole holding down a job/being a Mum thing.

On the one hand, you could say I’m managing fairly well. I still have a job and I still have two children. Well done me.

On the other hand, I don’t feel as though I’ve struck the right balance yet. I do wonder though if this is because there isn’t a “right” balance.

When I have a good week at work, it tends to be because I’ve put some extra time in. Equally, when my family are happiest it’s when I’m not working.

I was reminded of a lady I used to work with who stated one day that she felt she’d “done it all”. She’d got to the top of her career and she was a great Mum. I couldn’t disagree that she was flying high when it came to her job, but I did wonder if her children would agree with her that she was a great Mum – or if they’d have preferred her to be home with them a bit more and not been moved from country to country whenever she got promoted.

2.5 minutes isn’t really that long to ponder, so the rather grainy conclusion I came to is that at this stage in life I should probably just be pleased by the fact that I still have a job and I still have two children, and keep trying to balance the scales every time one tips out of kilter.

And if all else fails, there’s always wine.

Wasps & derrieres

Last night I went to a benefit dinner for Tim Payne - Wasps rugby player - with my new (ish) colleagues. I love attending rugby events as they’re some of the only times that I feel petite!

Sam Jones, young Wasps player who’s just been picked for the Barbarians, was sat on our table with us. Very nice guy and obviously delighted to be doing what he loves.

Our host for the night, Damian Hopley, introduced a game he wanted us to play. We had to guess how many “keepy-uppies” each rugby player could do. If we thought it would be more than the previous person we put our hands on our head, less and hands were to go on bottoms. Hmmm... Sneaky peak at Sam’s derrière... “You OWN bottom please” came Damian’s booming voice. Spoil sport.

Was great to get to know my new team a bit better as well. Apparently we’re all fairly good at drinking when the occassion demands it, and not shy in chasing down celebs for pics (well done on the Katherine Jenkins pic & the slightly less classy move of accosting Dallaglio outside the gents – you know who you are!).

My colleagues live about 90 minutes from where the event was held so they had to sneak out early to ensure they could get home. On their way to the exit they casually swiped some beers from a table so they could keep the party going on the train.

I think we’re going to get on just fine!

Feeling flush?

Yesterday I had a couple of meetings in various coffee shops around London. After the final one I decided I needed to answer the call of nature before heading home. I was at Kings Cross station so headed to the lavs there.

I was pleasantly surprised that they were clean and quite up-to-date loos. I ummed and ahhed for a few seconds about which cubicle to use, made my decision and figured that within a minute or two I’d be at the sinks and then heading for the tube.

The toilet had other ideas.

I got the shock of my life as it started flushing just as I sat down. It had one of the sensor flushes on it which usually goes off a few seconds after someone has finished. In this case, the sensor apparently had a loose connection and it decided to flush continuously until it couldn’t sense me anymore – and then stopped.

Luckily it was the last meeting of the day and I staggered home with a slightly wide-eyed expression!

Why are Mammoths extinct?

The other night I was putting C to bed and he asked me why Mammoths were extinct. Quickly realising that I had absolutely no idea as to why the woolly elephants died out I neatly side-stepped the question and brought the conversation round to other animals that were extinct. This inevitably led to us discussing dinosaurs and me feeling pretty smug that I was able to tell him about the asteroid hitting earth and wiping them all out.

A few days later we were on our way to school and he announced:

“You were right Mummy”

“Of course I was... What was I right about C?”

“The dinosaurs Mummy. I checked with my teachers and they said that a big rock from the sky did kill them all. Well done Mummy.”

“Erm. Thanks”.

“I checked because you didn’t know about the Mammoths so I wanted to make sure you were right about the dinosaurs”.

Right. So I didn’t side-step the Mammoth question at all. My 4 year old just sized up the situation, realised I hadn’t a clue, and let it slide.

I’m dreading a few years time when he comes back from school with proper homework. Thank God for the internet that’s all I can say.

The CEO can't make it - you're up

The moment that I’ve come to dread happened to me for the second time in my career last weekend.

My company took part in an investor show on Saturday – we had a nice little booth, some interesting demos and a speaking slot. It wasn’t ideal timing as it was Little E’s second birthday but these things happen and I’d spoken to my CEO who agreed that the moment he finished giving his speech I’d leg it home and would be back in time to spend a good few hours eating mushy birthday cake and building Lego castles.

I arrived at the venue early doors, set up the stand and for the next few hours happily spoke to interested people about our company and why it’s a good investment proposition.

The time for my CEO’s speech was drawing closer and closer but there was still no sign of him. With half an hour to go I got the dreaded phone call. Something personal had come up and he wasn’t going to be able to make it (to be fair – something important really did come up and it was very lucky he was in the right place at the right time to help out). However, I was going to have to do the speech. Gulp.

Now, I love 90 odd % of what I do, but public speaking definitely falls into the 10% that I’d happily throw into room 101. So with limited make-up, slightly unkempt hair and a bit of a shaky walk I made it to the podium. As I looked up, it was straight into the bright lights of the camera. Oh good. The organisers were filming it for posterity.

Happily I didn’t make too much of a pigs ear of it and left the room feeling that I might just live to fight another day.

In all the panic, I hadn’t even had time to go to the bathroom so that’s where I headed immediately after. When I looked into the mirror I noticed that E had left me a little present of birthday snot on my neck. Lovely. I have no idea if it comes out on camera, and I never will, as I have absolutely no intention of watching the recording!

Little E's heart

A number of you have asked why Little E needed heart surgery and if it was related to his Williams Syndrome.

For the doctors amongst you, he had supra-valvular aortic stenosis. For the rest of us that are sure we attended biology classes but can only remember the lesson that involved cucumbers (use your imagination), here's the simple explanation. (And yes, it is unfortunately one of the symptoms that Williams people are prone to).

His aorta which should be shaped like train tracks is was shaped like an hour glass. This meant that the blood was working extra hard to get through it and the effect was as though he was constantly in the gym. It had got to the stage where the consultants were concerned that if it was left untreated Little E might suffer heart-failure.

So an incredibly talented surgeon put him to sleep for 7 hours, patched his aorta with treated bovine tissue to make it wider and scraped away the extra muscle that had been generated by the heart acting as though it was in the gym.

A week later Little E was back home and now a few weeks on he's completely forgotten he just went through open heart surgery and is bouncing around like Tiger from Pooh Bear.

Bit of a serious post for just being off the blocks again but glad to answer your questions and also to say a big thank you to the Evalina Hospital for their amazing care and excellent children's facilities (helter skelter in the picture is actually on the ground floor of the hospital!).

Normal service is now resumed...

Apologies for the 6 month hiatus.

Last year the company I worked for was acquired and because of the position I held it was pretty difficult for me to make any relevant posts without blurting out company secrets! Life then became a bit of a roller-coaster ride but seems to have settled into the usual crazyness now.

Here's what's happened since my last post:

1. I left my previous company and joined a new one
2. Little E had to have open heart surgery last month (all went well and he's recovering at great speed)
3. Mary Poppins left to go on to bigger and better things (we're still in touch) and has been replaced by "Supernanny"
4. I bought a new car which makes me feel as though I'm making great strides towards pretending to be a Prada mum (although am still lacking blow-dried hair & full make-up at school drop-offs)

Of course, none of these things were breezed through with the elegance & poise I would have liked, so will share a few tales in the posts to come...