Elliot's Hospital Adventures!

So Elliot was meant to go into hospital for an operation. And, I'm going to sound awful here, but I definitely wanted to write it all up on here, for anyone else who has to think about needles going into their tiny child.

Well, it didn't happen. Not the blog posts, although they evidently didn't appear either. But the operation didn't go ahead. So, instead of a three-parter talking about my inner thoughts and worries about the hospital, I will tell you what it's like to build yourself up to a stressful day and then just have to go home again.

Before we went to the hospital, I was pretty well prepared. I recorded the episodes of Topsy and Tim where they go to hospital. I bought a book on Amazon about hospitals (side note: I always get so ripped off buying books on Amazon, since I paid about £3 for the world's tiniest book. It's so small, it's like it's made of sugar paper. Where does everyone else get the bargains, why do they avoid me!?) Elliot knew he was going to see the doctor, and he was SO CHUFFED when he got to the hospital. And why wouldn't he be, he had toys everywhere, he had a bed to chill out on, he was living the dream. Problem was: he was suffering from world's worst cold. And we'd dosed him up with Nurofen before we left, as he was really quite snotty.

I'm not very well versed in hospital speak, so I didn't know it would be a problem that he had a cough! The face on the nurse that did his first set of observations said it all. We had the world and his consultant coming to our bed, and for a while, it seemed like it would be okay even though he had a cough. This is where I got worked up.

The surgeon came over and said it would all be fine.
The anastheticist (I cannot say that word!) came over and said it probably would be fine...probably. The key point that I can't shake is when he told me where they'd put the needle in Elliot's hands. I was gone then, I was floating on a cloud of anxiety and when he called his consultant over and she told me we'd have to come back another day. And then the cloud started to rain. All over my face as I put Elliot's socks back on and tried to forget about needles and hospital beds and gowns.

And the tale ends with us in Costa, having a coffee and a cake. As per usual.

The Dystopian Hell of Adventure Bay.

I will put my hands up and say it, Elliot probably watches a bit too much Nick Jr and the surrounding channels (Nick Jr Peppa is legit both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was able to delete all the episodes we had saved in the Sky+ planner because the little pink shit is ALWAYS ON. Yes, we had to fill all that space with other inane shit, but it's all swings and roundabouts really.)

I want to throw a disclaimer in there and say we do go out, we do have adventures and we do play, but after a marathon leaf painting session, or a three hour round trip to the park, I am going to put the telly on. I'm weak.

Today, I wish to talk about Paw Patrol. For the un-initiated (lol) here is the opening sequence.

I've noticed some weird shit is going down in Adventure Bay. I don't trust anyone who lives in that bloody town. Who on EARTH would put all their trust, every aspect of their emergency services in DOGS? An animal who will poo on a twig and then, within seconds, try to eat said twig. What the hell is wrong with these people?

These dogs have been tampered with, my friends. There's some dodgy shit going on in the waters of Adventure Bay. I mean, it's not like all animals can talk. That chicken can't say a single word. The cats that appear every now and then can't talk, so what makes these dogs so special? Some weird shit went down in the Paw Patroller, I'm telling you now.

Know who's behind it? Mayor fucking Goodway, I'll tell you now. She acts dumb but she caused all this mess, I bet you. She's a secret criminal mastermind who messed around with these poor, defenceless puppies and now she feels the need to call on them every minute of the day just to make herself feel better. Not only have these dogs got jobs, but they're on call 24/7. Humans crack under that pressure, let alone animals that enjoy pissing up trees.

One last thing. This is sliding down the scale from Dystopian fucking Hell to Logistical Nightmare, but it still irks me. These poor pups with jobs, once they finally crawl into their beds after saving a chicken for the fifth time that day, have to sleep in their car?! I mean, I'm no genius when it comes to cars. I'm pretty clueless, but even I'm sure an engine has to go in there somewhere. It's like Bear Grylls getting inside that camel, it's just unnecessary. I mean, Everest not only has been banished to the forest, but she has to live inside a snow plow? Even prisoners get beds.

I've gone too deep haven't I? Writing this has made me realise I have a shit ton of feelings about a kids TV show. This week we're definitely having a Paw Patrol detox, I need to step away before I start screaming at the telly and all my hair falls out due to stress of working it all out.

(I have so many more questions about other shows on telly, if you want me to delve into the philosophical* meanings behind Peppa, I will gladly do so.)

*I have no philosophical knowledge, it will be me explaining that they're all in Hell because of the giant potato man. Is it a giant potato? Is it a man in a costume? Who knows! WHO KNOWS!

The Good, The Bad and the Poo-Stained Playpark.

It's been a while. And I'll tell you for why. We've been potty training.

My life has honestly revolved around piss, shit and farts for the past three months. (or, "wee wee, poo poo and POP POPS" as Elliot tells me thirty times a day.) I've spent more time on the floor scrubbing up wee than I'd ever thought I would and I've perfected rolling a giant turd out of a pair of pants into the toilet with minimum splash.

The story began one fateful day, where we realised that suddenly Elliot had changed from a tiny baby rolling around in his own filth, to a toddler who looked almost disgusted at his own filth and waddled around until you took it away. It took me a long time to come to terms with this, and I'm still wondering where the tiny otter-looking thing that shot green goo out of his bum went?

Since I am a massive wimp and my OCD has been a killer for checking he hasn't wet himself, Elliot has been wearing pull up's over his Paw Patrol pants for the past three months. That sounds awful, doesn't it? When we're out and about, I just need some extra reassurance that he won't wee all over the floor of Sainsbury's.  Recently, I've been brave and we've been out a few times without that extra padded layer, which was a massive step in the right direction!

Potty training has been a bit of a rollercoaster, if I'm honest. I present to you the good, bad and really gross moments of our potty training journey! (We're still so far from the end of this journey. This list will be expanded.)

• The first time we ventured out after we'd thrown the nappies out (put them on top of the wardrobe) and Elliot shouted that he needed a wee in the middle of Baby Gap and Reece and I have never moved faster, shielding our son in the middle of the 3 for 2 section as he sat there, bemused, pissing into a bag.
• Reece texting me to tell me he's just had to kick a poo out of the playpark. And it was a smeary one.
• When a horrific turn of events led to me dumping a leaky bag of piss outside our local library before running home. And then the dog tried to eat it.
• Tipping a poo into a flowerbed in the park. I'm sorry, Nature.
• Ruining every single meal out by saying, "Do you need the toilet?" 24 times before the food's actually arrived.
• Sitting outside the Job Centre using a pack of nappies as a seat in the rain, as Elliot squeezes out a turd.
• Picking him up from playgroup for him to shout at me, "I DID A WEE WEE! IN THE PLAYGROUP POTTY!" and having to cheer like an idiot in front of all the other mums. That was actually quite a successful moment. 

I am actually, incredibly proud of my lean, mean pooping machine. I genuinely am pleased for the fact that he can control his bowel movements. Because once you've got that down, the entire world is your oyster.

Introduction.

Hello!

I'm Hayley, I've got a few months left of singing 22 by Taylor Swift to myself and I have a savage toddler called Elliot who takes the game "Got your nose!" to a whole new, dangerous, level.

The story about how he arrived is a bit of a tale, and something that we'll address soon.

I like: music from 2007, Catfish: The TV Show, Punky Moms, anything that smells like Lord of Misrule from Lush, Christmas songs.

Elliot likes: anything with wheels, pineapples, anything that could possibly endanger his life, dogs that come up to you in the park to say hello.

This is our little spot on the Internet.