The Revolution is Back On

For those of you that think I have disappeared off the face of the planet recently, then… tah dah! I am still here. I have not visited anywhere interesting, I have not met anyone of any note, and I have not been involved in anything that would make your ears prick up like a fruit bat. But I have had some much needed rest and have been keeping a low profile in my local sphere of existence.

One of the most comforting points to note is that we have not been to any hospital for at least a fortnight. I’m not the type of person that feels comfortable in hospitals because of some weird feeling that you feel safe. I come from the school of being as far away as possible from the thought of anything going wrong, and then if it does, think about it then. Until this year that way of life had kept me out of hospitals for most of it, but this year just goes to show that if you’re thinking of moving half way up a mountain in the middle of the Central Siberian Plateau, then make sure you have a contingency in place. A First Aid box may not be enough.

I’m aware that I do not always mention the skids in these little weekly anecdotes, but that is because a) I do not want to bore people with the newsflash that Dylan has just picked his first nose, and b) most of the interesting news about them is between Claire and I. One day, in twenty years, I will re-publish these memoirs with more detailed news on their progress, once I have the knowledge that it will all work out right in the end.

I am sure that Claire and I have a naturally high level of worry and sensitivity, compared to normal parents, due to what has happened. We are now six and a half months on, and Sophie is now in Newborn clothes and the weight is still monitored weekly. There are still tests being carried out regularly and we are trying to ignore all of that and listen to people’s advice of “just enjoy them”.

We are enjoying them for probably 95% of the time, but there is still that element of doubt and fear that creeps in to your thoughts and makes you so scared that you feel like crying. But we try not to, and we both act as each other’s councillor at those times. It gets a bit tasty when we both get down, but at those points we put on a Portsmouth FC DVD and realise that there are people worse off than us in the world.

But as a quick run down of progress. Dylan has learnt to stand, all be it for about 5 seconds before he takes a dive like a Portugese midfielder. He can also laugh at me (which is probably going to be a useful life skill for him), and has recently developed a high pitch squeal that he uses now to communicate with us. We are still none the wiser of what he means, but the cat goes upsatirs and fetches him things.

Sophie can now grab toys on her own, and is forming the cutest little smile. She is also sleeping all through the night, much to the delight of Claire. But, Dylan however, who is not really understanding what nighttime is for and still waking up once or twice for a feed, balances this out.

Sophie is catching up with her weight and getting close now to the lowest centile, where as Dylan’s line is beginning to form a big yellow M.

We also have a second viewing tonight from someone wanting to buy our house. Hopefully we can pull it off and start our plans to move. It would be nice to be in a new house by Christmas, although we are not in any rush to leave here. It’s just nice to finish something once it’s begun.

So there’s the update. I will keep you posted when interesting things happen, but like the farmer said to the milk-maid sitting under a Bull, “You don’t need to milk it!”