tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32581599733615507312023-11-16T02:33:34.500-08:00Vetbooks and BabiesBEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-40105221083321573682018-01-18T07:02:00.003-08:002018-01-18T07:02:47.870-08:00So, what next?I had my job at the vets, and was studying part-time towards a degree in Equine Science in the hope that, once I finished, I could apply to study veterinary. Seemingly out of nowhere, a couple of kids turned up in-between, but apart from the typical madness that most mothers experience, everything was ticking along just fine.<br />
<br />
Until, in the May just before exams started for the penultimate year of the course, I received some seriously unwanted news!<br />
<br />
<i>Dear Louise</i>, it said.<br />
<br />
<i>We regret to inform you that due to ongoing lack of government investment we have had to take the difficult decision to withdraw funding for the distance-learning element of the Equine Science program…</i><br />
<br />
I literally felt that the rug had just been pulled from under my feet and I had landed right on my ass with a thud! I had put my heart and soul into my studies and had hoped to graduate with a first. What was I going to do? All the students sitting on a 2.4 or higher would be eligible to join the full-time course in Limerick, but that was a solid four hour drive away, and that would mean us having to move, which was definitely not an option. I was devastated - all that time and effort spent and for what? The most frustrating and upsetting thing was all the time I missed out on with the children because I was studying or doing projects; I had even missed Eliza’s 1st birthday because I had a practical exam. It really did hit me hard - <i>it was all for nothing</i>, I said to myself, and for a second time in my life my dream of veterinary yanked out of reach once again.<br />
<br />
The next few weeks where spent writing letters to anyone and everyone that I thought had some sort of influence on decision making within the University, but that proved futile. I can’t quite remember if I cried much about it, but if I did it was most probably the feeling of helplessness that upset me the most. But, little did I know, this would be one of the most valuable life lessons I have learned in my thirty years on this earth. I’m sure you have heard it said - <i>“if something is for you it will not go past you”</i> – well, up until this point, I had always believed this so-called pearl of wisdom.<br />
<br />
Now, I don’t think anything could be further than the truth! What I learned next was that, if you want something, like, <i>really</i> want something in life, you have to go and get it. You have to chase it – and, just at that point when you feel like giving up, quit feeling sorry for yourself and go and chase it some more, because for the most of us nothing ever gets handed to you on a plate and if it did I think it would lose its value.<br />
<br />
So, eventually, I managed to dust myself off and get back on the horse (so to speak!).<br />
I finished my last set of exams at the University of Limerick, managed to pass with distinction, thanked the lecturers very much then ironically learned my next valuable life lesson -<i> “sometimes, to get where you want to go, you have to turn around, go back to where you started and try again.” </i><br />
<br />
So it was on to the next chapter in the Life And Times of Lou, and this part was called doing my A-Levels (<i>…again</i>). This was the only option that would allow me to stand a chance of getting to vet school.<br />
<br />
“You are absolutely mad, Louise!”<br />
<br />
This was basically the gist of how the conversation went with my friends. My two best friends, Christine and Danielle (and pretty much everyone else that I talked to about it) could only see the problems. <i>How are you going to manage that, are you going to enrol at a college, and where are you going to find the time and money? </i><br />
<br />
“It’s fine,” I said. “It will only take a year, and I have bought some Chemistry, Biology and Physics books from Amazon, so I will just go through them, do the exams and I can apply to vet school this year.”<br />
<br />
“You have completely lost the plot, woman!” said Christine<br />
<br />
“It will be fine - there is an independent college in England where I can sit the practicals - if a bunch of 18 year olds can do it, it can’t be that bad!” I replied cheerily.<br />
<br />
Oh, how wrong I was!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-32440290408040662702017-10-17T03:35:00.000-07:002017-10-17T03:35:39.413-07:00Not one of my finer moments...<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I got into of one of my more amusing predicaments whilst on placement this summer. You see, just as luck would have it, I landed myself a week on a beautiful yard in Newmarket. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was my first day - six in the morning, standing on the Heath with the lovely head lass, Sarah, watching as the horses disappeared off into the morning haze. Life for a wannabe equine vet just didn’t get any better than this. But it wasn’t long before my bliss was rudely interrupted by what we’ll call a typical Louise moment…I was asked by one of the Baker McVeigh vets who was attending to the horses on the yard if I wanted to go with him and his assistant to castrate a few horses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No need to ask twice, really! You see, just like every other nerdy vet student, a vet only needs to hint towards the word surgery, and I will be tripping over myself to be there!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So eventually Tristan the vet, his assistant Taff, and I, all jump into this jeep. I can’t honestly say there was a huge amount of chat from the vet – on first impressions he was one of the more serious intellectual variety. His assistant, on the other hand, was just about as friendly a guy as you could meet, so pretty much kept the silence to a minimum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, just as we pull up to the gates of what could have easily been mistaken for Buckingham Palace, I reached down to undo my seat belt, only to realise that there was no release button!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh dear,” I thought, whilst trying to answer the generic “how are you finding the course” questions he was courteously asking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I started searching quietly yet somewhat frantically to see if there was something I could jam inside the buckle to release the belt. “Yeah, it’s great, love the course, amazing!” I said, as I pulled the belt out to try and give myself some space.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“So what topics are you covering at the moment?” he asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Errmmm - anatomy and ermmm…” - but, just as I said that, the belt locked. Not good!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I tried to let it go to see if it would loosen; of course, it didn’t. Instead, it simply ratcheted me in tighter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Anatomy..? Oh, right,” he said, no doubt assuming I was very engaged with the veterinary curriculum. NOT!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Basically, it was like one of those moments that perhaps you may have had as a child where you have just spilt something everywhere, and you are trying really hard to clean it up before anyone notices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Only, nothing I was doing was working.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The jeep eventually rolled to a stop outside the bustling tack room. The vet and his assistant jumped out and headed over to speak to the boss.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Think, Louise!” I found a pen down the side of the door and jammed it down the buckle, but unsurprisingly, that didn’t work either! I was desperately trying to think of my next course of action when, all of a sudden, the door was flung open.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Are you coming then, or what?” Tristan said. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes, but give me a moment - I’m just a bit stuck here.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh, the seat belt - sorry! I forgot to tell you it doesn’t work.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Amazing! I thought…how very helpful!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Right, one second,” he said, racing around to the other side to try and get it loose, but it wasn’t budging.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Okay, wait a moment.” By this stage we had several jockeys watching on in amusement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He rustled around in the back of the jeep, then came round to my door with a pair of surgical scissors. “We are going to have to cut you out!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“What! It’s fine, I can just stay in the car whilst you do the castrations…” I gabbled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Right, but then what are you planning on doing?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Good point. “Okay,” I said, “there’s nothing else for it. Just let me see if I can squeeze out of this.” So, in least dignified fashion you have ever witnessed, and with what was, at this stage, a packed audience looking on from the tack room, I slid out of the truck hands first with these two distinguished gentlemen who were supposed to be helping me to freedom doubled over laughing. Eventually, I landed on the ground (minus one boot and a sock that had been caught on the belt).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Therein lay the first of many (thankfully not all so undignified ) lessons of the week - do not take yourself too seriously, because when you end up getting yourself stuck in the sh*t, you are going to have to get yourself unstuck by whatever means necessary - which brings me back to the story,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“What do you mean, you don’t want to be a nurse?” Judith (the head nurse) exclaimed. “Why did you apply?</span>”<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Well, actually, I didn’t exactly apply to be a nurse, but I thought if it was something that I was going to have to do to get the job then I would.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Huh?” she said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I want to be a vet,” I said, awaiting the all-too-predictable response.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Right…” Her look was slowly changing from confusion to scepticism. “But…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before she could finish I interrupted - “I know what you are going to say, but I still reckon I could make it work.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Um…okay…I’m not really sure what to say to you?” she said - but now her tone was more one of pity. “I have no problem with your work, Louise - but I am going to have to speak to the bosses and see that they say.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A day or two later, Judith came down from the operating theatre and said that Mr. Grant wanted a word with me upstairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hello,” I said, as I knocked, and popped my head round the huge dark wood Victorian door of his office.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hello, Louise. Come in,” he said, whilst pointing to the seat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“So, I hear that we have got our wires crossed somewhere?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“No, no, it’s not that. I am more than happy to do the veterinary nursing course if it means I can stay! It’s just that, well….you see…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“You want to be a vet,” he said bluntly, finishing my sentence for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He lent back in his chair and smiled. “Well…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If I’m honest, I assumed he was going to start reeling off the list of reasons why I wasn’t going to be able to do it - but, instead, he just asked curiously, “Why do you want to be a vet Louise?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And before I even had the chance to think of how to respond he said, “Look, you’re a young mother with a 9-5 job, you have most evenings and weekends off, and you are not burdened with an excessive amount of responsibility. You don’t want to have to deal with people calling you at 3am, then have to go to some field in the middle of nowhere to sort out a down cow.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I couldn’t do anything but stare at him blankly. Everything he was saying was true, what on earth was I thinking! This plan was borderline insanity. In my head I was agreeing with him, but in my heart this was all I had ever wanted to do, and I knew if I only got the chance that I could be good at it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I know,” I said, “I know it sounds crazy, and I have no idea how I’m going to get there, but there is one thing I do know - that, somehow, I am going to find a way to do it.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Well then,” he said, with the look of scepticism all over his face, “if that’s the case there’s nothing more to be said. There’s no point in you doing veterinary nursing if all you want to do is become a vet.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh dear, I thought, not good, not good… </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“You had best get back to work.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What?!?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Does that mean I can stay?!?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes,” he said, “I suppose it does.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Thank you so, so much!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I remember walking out of work that day thinking - that’s the hardest bit sorted! Now all I have to do is finish my equine science course and apply to vet school…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, little did I know, things where only just getting warmed up…</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-55867604130609319192017-08-31T02:05:00.002-07:002017-08-31T02:05:28.530-07:00You know what? Other parents LIE! When you have a newborn people keep telling you that “things get easier once they start sleeping all night” - but what they don’t tell you is that this could actually be five years down the line, and, if you have any other kids in-between, you can add another five years onto that! All in all, I reckon that I’ve spent nine solid years waking up at night to little footsteps on their way to the bathroom, or coming in to tell you that there is a goblin in their bedroom then since you are too exhausted to drag yourself out of bed to ensure said goblin has vacated the premises, they end up in bed beside you, and proceed to kick you in the face the rest of the night.<br />
<br />
Another good one is this - “aww, it’s great when they can get ready all by themselves”. Um, NO! It’s really not. You try telling a four-year old that they can’t wear goggles and wellie boots out for dinner with the in-laws!<br />
<br />
And, of course, here’s the lie of the century - “once you have had one the rest are a breeze!” Folk should actually have to do time for this comment, because it lures poor unsuspecting parents into a false sense of security…and then BAM! There you sit, with baby number three, feeling like you have just been hit by a freight train!<br />
<br />
Anyhow, the reason I say this is because I think we all underestimate the fact that our gorgeous little bundles of joy don’t take long to grow into gorgeous little rascals (that have not so little opinions!) For example, just over a month ago, a new addition joined the Samuel-Napier household; a beautiful little tabby kitten who has, due to one thing and another, remained nameless. Until after dinner today, finally, I decided enough was enough,<br />
<br />
“Family meeting!” I called, to my peril. “Right. We need to name this darn cat, and, more importantly, we all need to agree on it!”<br />
<br />
(FYI, if you ever need to brush up on your negotiation skills, you should try chairing a meeting with a nine, six and five year old - oh, and your other half, who in this case may as well have counted as another 5 year old…)<br />
<br />
Eventually, they came up with four names: Henry, Cecil, Peter, and Eustace.<br />
<br />
I know right!? Whatever happened to Fluffy or Sooty? However, the last cat was called Edmund, so this one didn’t stand a chance. After about thirty minutes of chairing the meeting from hell (which involved tears, children storming out and my husband and I staring daggers across the table at one another) the cat is now lovingly been named Benjamin!<br />
<br />
(Just to clarify - I absolutely love being a Mum, and it is the best most entertaining job in the world, but it’s also the trickiest. So, when you get your kids into bed in the evening (mostly) in one piece after a long day, don’t forget to give yourself a quick pat on the back.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Back a few years now.<br />
<br />
I found myself in the waiting room of the most beautiful old Victorian building, nervous as anything. It was the day of my interview.<br />
<br />
“Hi there! Can I help you?” asked the friendly brunette receptionist.<br />
<br />
“Yes, hello. My name is Louise - I’m here for an interview with Mr Grant & Mr Fitzsimons?”<br />
<br />
“No problem. Take a seat, and they’ll be with you in a moment.” <br />
<br />
God, Louise, please don’t mess this up, I thought, as I fanned myself with the Petplan leaflets trying very hard not to sweat through my top.<br />
<br />
Eventually, I was ushered into the office, where there sat two relaxed-looking gentlemen eating lunch and radiating a distinct smell of horse.<br />
<br />
“Hello, Louise, My name is Cathal and this is Liam.”<br />
<br />
“Nice to meet you,” I said, as I leaned over to shake their hands.<br />
<br />
“So you want to be a veterinary nurse?”<br />
<br />
“Errrr….yes.” Well you ought to now you silly mare, I thought.<br />
<br />
Anyway after a fairly lengthy conversation that mainly consisted of me trying to explain my recent decision for a “career change” however very purposely failing to mention that it was, in fact, because I wanted to be a Vet (that would have been too much crazy for a first meeting).<br />
One of the partners eventually announced that they would be more that happy for me to enrol on the course, and start work the week after next.<br />
<br />
“Seriously?” I said, “Have I got the job?”<br />
<br />
Next thing I know, I am sitting in a classroom on the first day of term with a very nice group of aspiring Veterinary Nurses, looking worriedly through the huge stack of notes we had just been given, still wandering how the heck I got myself into this. Then, to top it off, one of the vets came in to give us a brief account of the future career we were embarking on and she finished off (I kid you not) by saying - “basically, a lot of your time will be spent cleaning up after the vets.”<br />
<br />
Wow, Wow, Wooow ! Sorry WHAT!?!<br />
<br />
Since when did it become a thing that people don’t clean up after themselves? Yes, I know we all need a hand from time to time, but surely vets aren’t that inefficient? <br />
<br />
(It turns out they are! Not all, might I stress, but definitely a fair few… *cough* mainly men…yeah…you know who you are!)<br />
<br />
A few weeks later, I was settling well into work at the practice - so well, in fact, that I was totally oblivious to the storm that was brewing behind the scenes.<br />
I had just sat down to ten o’clock tea when I was called into the head nurses’ office.<br />
<br />
“Louise, as I’m sure you are aware that I really was not happy with the situation under which you started.”<br />
<br />
What is she on about? I thought. She had been a little distant, but I assumed it was just because she was busy. “Um?” I said sheepishly. “I’m not quite sure what you mean?”<br />
<br />
As it turned out she hadn’t quite agreed to this new teaching role she had landed in. In fact, she actually only found out about it the day I started (awkward!).<br />
“Basically, I already have a huge workload as it is, and I didn’t agree to having a trainee vet nurse to supervise as well.”<br />
<br />
“I see,” I said, panicking that I was about to be given the boot.<br />
<br />
“But” she said, “I have spoken to the partners about it and, given that you work hard and seem very keen to learn, I am willing to give it a go and we can start afresh”.<br />
<br />
“Okay,” I said. Really still quite confused about what exactly was going on. “So you didn’t actually want a trainee nurse?”<br />
<br />
“Correct” she said, without hesitation.<br />
<br />
“Hmmm funny you should mention that,” I said jokingly, “because I hadn’t actually planned on becoming one either .”<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I wasn’t the only one looking confused…<br />
<div>
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BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-86614958409839060322017-07-19T06:55:00.001-07:002017-07-19T06:55:36.145-07:00Finally Free!So, having just quit my job in spectacular fashion, I was finally free!<br />
<br />
But getting your freedom is one thing - what you are going to do with it is a whole other.<br />
<br />
I marched down the stairs and out the front door (with an enormous smile, that I couldn’t wipe off my face). I strolled around Victoria Square several times, and texted various people to tell them about the morning's antics. Eventually deciding to grab a coffee and take some time to think seriously about what just happened.<br />
<br />
Now, according to my friends, I’m a bit of a curious being, one such reason for their conclusions is that I talk to myself a lot, but apparently that’s not the strangest part, it’s when I start answering myself back that its an issue - an oddity that frequently gets me some bizarre looks and strange reactions depending on what the topic of the day is.<br />
<br />
Anyway, on this unfortunate occasion, I found myself standing in the queue at Caffé Nero having just been pondering the mornings’ events, the woman in front of me (a formidable looking character if I might say so) had just ordered three slices of the lemon cheesecake and one of the chocolate.<br />
“I can’t believe you just did that,!” I said chuckling to myself, an unlucky coincidence to say the least.<br />
<br />
She swung around with a fearsome looking stare.<br />
<br />
“Oops, I said that out loud.” making myself look all the more guilty!<br />
<br />
As you might imagine the situation did not end well! Anyway as I sat drinking my coffee that almost cost me my life, as far away form Caffé Nero as I could get before the coffee went cold, the replies to my original “Just quit my job, I’m free!” text began to filter in.<br />
<br />
“Haha, whatever Lou! ;)” that one came from my friend Christine.<br />
<br />
From Chris - “Are you being serious? If so, have you lost your mind???”<br />
<br />
And particularly droll was the one from my Dad. “Right, why? Oh and by the way, freedom’s just another word for; nothing left to lose.” (Big country and western fan, in case you hadn’t guessed).<br />
<br />
It was true. Suddenly the enormity of what I had just done began to sink in, and my brain went into overdrive. As quickly as I could convince myself everything was going to be fine, I began to panic that I had just made a massive mistake.<br />
<br />
What do I do next?<br />
Calm down, its going to be fine!<br />
How long have I got before I run out of money? The answer to that one was, not long…<br />
<br />
Though in the end even with the shadow of uncertainty, the thought of having some control over my life and the chance to spend quality time with my family did massively outweigh the risk.<br />
<br />
But when I arrived home, it was to some kind of ‘intervention’. My family had come to the conclusion I was having a melt down.<br />
<br />
“Louise we need to have a chat, what exactly is going on here? We are all quite worried”<br />
<br />
“Em, sorry to disappoint folks I am completely fine, oh, and guess what? I’m going to have a career change!”<br />
<br />
“Right, okay. And what are you going to do?”<br />
<br />
“Veterinary!” I said with a beaming smile on my face.<br />
<br />
“Sorry, WHAT?”<br />
<br />
“I’m going to be a VET!” Needless to say, that earned me a few concerned sympathy laughs.<br />
<br />
“So how exactly are you going to go about this, Louise?” My mum asked, with a look of dismay all over her face.<br />
<br />
“Actually, that’s the bit I haven’t quite figured out yet…”<br />
<br />
Anyway for the next couple of hours, I was bombarded with various pieces of evidence that may have suggested I had actually lost my mind (which, if I’m honest, was quite convincing) and that I needed to seek some ‘help’. But to be honest if one of my friends had done the same, I would seriously question their state of mind. In the end I gave them all an abrupt “Good night!” and just about left the door on the hinges. <br />
<br />
The next morning I got up all the more determined in my quest, fired off my formal resignation in an email before we set off on a week’s holiday; time which I definitely needed to clear my head.<br />
Though, once we returned, I knew I had to get my act together.<br />
<br />
First thing’s first, a job! I wanted to work in mixed practice, but, without any relevant qualifications, these jobs are quite difficult to come by. So, I decided to apply for a part time degree, distance-learning - it was in equine science (perfect!). First of all, you complete the Cert. then Diploma, and eventually, after the final year, you got a degree. I also began studying to become a SQP (and for those of you who don’t know what this is, basically, it’s short for Suitably Qualified and Perfect - exactly what every practice needs, haha!) Okay, it’s not really - it’s just an ambiguous name for someone who can prescribe certain veterinary medicines.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I wrote my CV, which, as you might imagine, proved an unusual read, posted it to literally every mixed practice within a 60 mile radius and hoped that, if all else failed, statistically someone was bound to give me a job. But the weeks went by without so much as an acknowledgement, one week rolled into the next, and as the days elapsed so eventually did my optimism. I began wandering if this was all a huge mistake. Things were really not looking good at all, and I had no plan B.<br />
<br />
Then, some four or more weeks later, out of the blue, I got a phone call from a gentleman asking if I was still interested in a job in their veterinary practice!<br />
<br />
Halleluiah!<br />
<br />
“Yes, definitely!” I shouted down the phone, sounding far too over keen.<br />
<br />
“Oh, okay, great! We are currently looking for a trainee Vet Nurse, and we would like to offer you an interview.” he said.<br />
<br />
“Ohh.” I should have known it wasn’t going to be straightforward.<br />
<br />
Veterinary nursing! I thought, that takes three fairly intense years of training and study, without any guarantee of even getting paid!<br />
<br />
“Would you be available this week?”<br />
<br />
“Urm…yes, I think so,” I said, at the same time wandering why in a month of Sundays did you just agree to that?<br />
<br />
“Okay, great, would Friday at 11am suit?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, perfect!” I said in an attempt to sound cheery, but now fully convinced I had, in fact, lost the plot.<br />
<br />
“Okay, see you then.”<br />
<br />
So I had somehow got myself an interview to become a vet nurse, in the furthest away practice I could find, while already having signed up to studying two fairly intense science based courses. It could only happen to me!<br />
<br />
There was nothing else for it.<br />
<br />
Ring ring. “Hello, Redmount Veterinary Nursing College.”<br />
<br />
“Hi there…I was just wandering, do you think it would be possible to study veterinary nursing whilst already studying for a part time degree and an SQP, and if so, how do I apply?”<br />
<br />
“Sorry, what?” said the voice on the phone, sounding understandably, utterly bemused. I took a deep breath.<br />
<br />
“Well, if you have a moment or two, I can explain…”<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-45463681731236096142017-07-03T06:38:00.002-07:002017-07-03T06:38:30.594-07:00The month of STRESS!!<div class="MsoNormal">
So
the glorious British summer has well and truly arrived and although on one hand
I don’t really want to dampen the holiday mood, I’m going to wander off the
story line this month and talk about …<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
STRESS!
<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stress,
stress and guess what? <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More
STRESS!!!!<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
it has been a crazy month to say the least! Over the past few weeks <i>a lot</i>
has happened in our (normally very mundane) little lives. A incompatible mix of
events to include, blue lights to A & E at 2am, weddings, funerals,
surgery, more weddings, car crash, kids birthday parties (Oh… don’t get me
started about these!) more escapee guinea pigs…(who have yet to be recaptured),
and the MOST annoying new neighbour who has just moved in, in the shape of a bird
that sits in the tree next to my bedroom window mimicking a squeaking gate from
4:00am onwards, aye and not to mention my end of year EXAMS!!!<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seriously,
it’s as if someone made a pick’n’mix of life events and just fired the bag at
us! Which brings me to my first question, did I cope?<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually
wait, so what exactly is coping? Like seriously!? <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well
according to the good folk at Oxford dictionaries it is; “The ability of a person to deal effectively with something difficult.” But
then who determines whether you’re being effective or not?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
I began to give this whole thing some serious thought and started trying to
figure out where I was on the scale of things. I reckon our innate instinct to
compare ourselves to people around us (something we do so much we don’t even
know we are doing it) causes us to get it wrong time and time again and as it
unfolded from my perspective, using this scoring system was literally the WORST
idea ever! <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
folk in my study group reek of genius, my daughter is best friends with the
child of a full time super-mum and my own close friends are childless,
glamorous serial holiday goers! If I was scoring 4/10 in any of these
categories it was at a push.<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
after getting quite annoyed with myself and then with our
traditional measuring system I had a sort of light bulb moment…<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Constantly
judging ourselves against those around us, whose lives we really only see the
surface of means we are never going to get an accurate measurement of how we
are doing. <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes
I know, none of this is anything new but actually figuring out that it is a
completely flawed system and therefore will NEVER be able to give you a true
result is actually quite liberating.<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To
draw a comparison, you don’t rush off to diagnosing a patient based on nothing
but their temperature; you do it with all things considered, using a huge range
of information quite literally down to what they ate for breakfast. So with
this in mind using this system to judge anything let alone ourselves is
borderline insanity!<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now
back to the matter of stress, people ask me all the time how do you cope with
three kids and studying? And if I’m honest I never really know how to answer,
partly because I’m not quite sure that I really do? Yeah ok, during the
year our life functions fairly ‘normally’ but in the past month for example, I
really don’t think I qualify for the ‘Oxford dictionary definition’. <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Basically
whilst I studied frantically for my exams and as previously mentioned all hell
was breaking loose, the house got messier, the washing backlog was beyond a
joke, I took one of my kids to a birthday party a day early, forgot about
another (party, not child , thank goodness!), booked flights to London for a
wedding that was in Ireland (and we live in LONDON!). Forgot to pay my
credit card bill, oh and to top it off I totally forgot about Fathers Day….ahhhh!<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok
I know, that’s pretty useless BUT….<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Had
all of these things happened last year, I have no doubt I would have packed up
all our stuff and been on the first boat back to Ireland. <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
what’s changed? Well from an obvious perspective absolutely nothing! The
exams were only going to get harder, the kids are still kids and life goes on.
However there was one massive difference… ‘Frame
of mind’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
had to make a conscious decision that from now on, if I was to make it through
the next few years alive I was going to need to learn to take some things on
the chin!<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now
this all sounds straight forward, but let me tell you it is NOT! <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Taking
it on the chin’ is in no way something that comes naturally to me.<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
am that person that freaks out if someone puts the forks in the tray that the
spoons are in, and that has to have all the yogurts facing the same way in
the fridge. I know its pretty bad right, but I have come to the conclusion it
may be some sort of random coping mechanism, you might have a weeks work of
work to get through in a day and your laptop has just had a hissy fit BUT hey!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At
least all the tins of sweet corn are in an orderly fashion! <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
whilst one wave came crashing in after another I had to force myself to remain
unruffled and remember that the storm was eventually going to pass. I had to
prioritize within an inch of my life to get through what actually really needed
to be done and if at all it could wait it had to.<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prioritising
- now this is an interesting one, when we have to do this during our
working day we are great at it, but ask us to start prioritising our personal
lives and it’s a whole different ball game. Letting people down, saying no to
spending time with friends or family and sacrificing a bit of time to yourself
, so whilst none of these things are ever ideal, sometimes they really are
necessary. We talk a lot about getting a work life balance and yes I guess this
is something we can aspire to, but the reality is that often our lives have to
go off balance and actually as far as I can see, if it’s only for a little
while it is okay. I used to get more stressed thinking I had to somehow
maintain this unattainable ‘balance’ than I did about the things I should
actually have been stressing about, however what is important is the ability to
re balance as soon as you can. <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
on that note and after thankfully surviving the last chaotic month, still
married and with all my children in one piece if you need me I can be found on
the deck chair in the back garden with some cheap but tasty Prosecco. <u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<u5:p class=""></u5:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
Louise
xx<u5:p class=""></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-12184545613344263502017-05-08T03:51:00.002-07:002017-05-08T03:51:36.228-07:00The Taste of Freedom<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Mornings are often a
peculiar and somewhat disorderly time in the Samuel-Napier household. This
being said, I still try to find some solace in the fact that, by the time I get
my kids out the door, sit in almost an hours worth of traffic (even though we live
but a mere three unwalkable miles from school), do battle with the fearsome
London commuters for my one square-foot of space on the ThamesLink, only to
finally get into University and sit down to a week of neurology lectures, I
genuinely feel like the most challenging part of the day is already behind me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">So
before I kick off by telling you all about how the previously mentioned random
set of events gave me the kick up the butt I needed to turn my life as I knew
it on its head, I have to vent about the even more chaotic than normal morning
I just had…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">1. Husband burns
toast = Wake up to a house that smells like an incinerator <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">2. Col-‘Gate’. This
(for any one who hasn’t yet parented a 5-year-old) is a conspiracy whereby your
kids see how many times you will have to ask them to brush their teeth before
either:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">A)
You crack and send them out with their breath smelling like mouldy cheese; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">or<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">B)
You threaten to brush their teeth with the dustpan brush. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">3. Then comes the
cereal swap, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Parent:
What would you like for breakfast, love? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Child:
Cornflakes please. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Parent:
Ok, no problem (puts cereal in bowl and adds milk) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Child:
Actually, I want Coco Pops!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Parent:
No, you asked for cornflakes, so here you are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Child:
Well, I’m not eating THAT!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Parent:
That’s FINEEEE. I’m leaving it beside you but suit yourself!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">(Then it all
backfires when just as you are walking away from the classroom after having
sent them off with a kiss and cuddle, you overhear them spouting to their
teacher about how hungry they are because they didn’t have any breakfast!
Arghhhh!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">4. Find the SHOE,
because of course it must have grown little shoe legs and wandered off from
where you left it (this part generally being the tipping point between being on
time and being late…)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">To
be honest, after almost ten years of being a mum, I have learned to </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">suppress</span><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> my OCD-like tendencies towards order, and lowered my life standards enough that
I now think that this kind of malarkey is fairly normal. However, today was a
whole new level of crazy. There I was, with my two older kids running around
our garden in my dressing gown trying to catch two escapee guinea pigs before
our cat could call them breakfast. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Meanwhile,
back inside, my youngest daughter was busy flushing an entire thing of loo-roll
down the toilet, all because ‘Leo’, her invisible friend that jumped out of a
book a number of months ago, threw it in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Anyway,
we were about 20 minutes late at this point and so, full of self-pity, I
shoved a chocolate </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">eclair</span><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> in my face, swung the front door open, only to time
it perfectly for a first meeting with my new (and might I add very
sporty-looking) next door neighbour (who must now think I’m completely ridiculous,
not least for my attempts to say hello in some weird made up sign-language due
to the mouth full of pastry I was chomping on!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">What’s
new, I’m off on a tangent. Anyway, back in the story, I had decided to jump
into the driver seat and take control of my life, and so away we went on one
almighty off-road trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">You
know I think we must have some sort of inbuilt mechanism to help us deal with
those folk that for want of a better word might be considered a bit of an arse!
Because it’s only now, looking back on it, that I realise how much of an old
bovine my old boss at the time actually was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">I
had come to the conclusion that I was going to ask for more flexible working
hours, and </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">enroll</span><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> in a part-time science-based course and see where I went from
there. But as time rolled on, and I continued to ask, she continued to palm me
off. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">It
had started to get to the stage where I was getting quite annoyed with the
situation, so I had decided to ask one final time - but this time I wasn’t
going to back down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">She reluctantly
organised a meeting just before I was due to go off on three weeks annual
leave. A member of senior management had flown over from London to sit in on
the meeting, and I remember walking into the conference room feeling quite
cheerful and positive, but this wasn’t to last long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Morning
Louise,” my manager said in an abrupt tone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Good
morning,” I replied politely. “I hope you are both well?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">She
interjected sharply, “Look, this meeting is a matter of formality, so lets get
on with it, I have a VERY-BUSY-DAY ahead!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Ok,”
I said, feeling like someone had begun to siphon off what little positivity I
had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">It
was all-downhill from there really. My manager clearly </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">fuming</span><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> she had to have
this meeting in the first place, seemed determined to make it as awkward as
possible for everyone involved and boy, didn’t she half. I told them that I
felt like I needed a better work-life balance, and that I didn’t feel like I
was fulfilling my role as a parent as a result of the current situation. But,
honestly, I may as well have been talking to the Mona Lisa, they both sat
silently staring straight through me. Both of them where highly motivated women
which you have to admire but neither had any sort of family commitments and
they just did not get it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;"> I asked
them to take a look at the detailed plan of suggestion that I had spent ages
drawing up. She picked it up skimmed through it in about 45 seconds flat and
then… began using it to fan herself! Like SERIOUSLY!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">You
know I think it is quite important for anyone who is dishing out Sh1t to
understand that there is a limit to the crap you can put in the wheelbarrow and
after that it tips out all over you! (A phenomenon of which my boss clearly
wasn’t familiar.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">This
was not going well, It felt like the walls had began to close in around me, I
was going to be trapped!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">So,
basically, after about an hour of me trying to salvage any sort of deal - a few
less hours, a bit less responsibility (I would have taken anything at this
point) - she said, “Look, Louise, I can’t see how we can accommodate what you
are requesting. And, besides, things are working really well as they are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Yeah,
working well for who?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">
I thought. Then out of the blue and quite out of character I said quietly,
“Can’t see or don’t want to see?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Excuse
me?” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Oh
sh*t, what had I just done? But there was more… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Seriously?
You aren’t even willing to compromise here!” What the hell was I doing… it was
a classic case of verbal D+++, and it just kept on coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Louise,
you are needed here in your current capacity,” she said veerrryy calmly staring
me straight in the eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Is
that a no?” I asked bluntly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“We
can re-look at this in another six months, Louise.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“That
really won’t be necessary. I don’t think either of us need the stress and
hassle of this rigmarole again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Okay?”
she said, looking a little confused. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“I
quit!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">WHAT?
My boss said “Louise just a moment now…” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;"> “No,
I think we have wasted long enough on this matter will send you my formal
resignation in the morning,” I said with the most random surge of confidence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“Anyway,
I’d best be off, I have a VERY-BUSY-DAY ahead… with my FAMILY!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">I
stood up, shook both their hands, as they stared at me in complete silence-
lifted my things, spun on my heel, and off I went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">I
was free!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-2176053052222138242017-03-27T01:58:00.000-07:002017-03-27T01:58:18.746-07:00The Realities of MotherhoodOkay, I’m gonna do it! I’m going to start this months’ blog with a total rant - a rant about other mums to be precise. Now before you grab the pitchforks, I’m most definitely not referring to the majority - just a select, yet very annoying few. The mums who, for whatever (farcical) reason, decide that, if they sell enough ‘motherhood is bliss’ crap to other parents, the world will somehow think how well they have done in having life completely and utterly sussed…<br />
<br />
Sorry, but I ain’t buying the crap you’re selling!<br />
<br />
Now, I’m not saying we all need to start posting Facebook pics of our 6am pre-coffee faces or the pile of washing that by Friday is easily the height of the kitchen table. But, seriously, ‘Fakebook’ is getting out of hand, and, from what I can see, it is putting undue stress on other down to earth ‘normal’ mums who are being bombarded with these unattainable, staged snapshots of other people’s lives.<br />
<br />
Of course everything looks magnificent in the selfie you posted (three weeks after giving birth) whilst jogging along the promenade with your perfectly done make-up, bugaboo, and pristine pink Adidas (which clearly have never seen a muddy puddle in their life…). But those of us who know a thing or two about having young kids will know that, before you set off on your run, you just spent forty minutes in the carpark trying to feed your child - then, you had to somehow hoist out and assemble your pram from the boot one-handed because ‘said’ child would not go back into their car seat for all of two minutes without screaming so loud the nearby seagulls decided to set off on early migration! Then… once you eventually got the opportunity to prance off down the busy promenade (to get the all important selfie) you were restricted to a snails’ pace for fear of knocking over an OAP (probably resulting in you having burned off the equivalent of half a digestive biscuit…). Then you eventually get back to the car only to realise that the child’s nappy is at bursting point, and your pram has dog poo on the wheels!<br />
<br />
So that’s the reality of motherhood! Anything else should be considered ‘false advertising’. Of course, this is a hypothetical example and its not all bad but it’s certainly not easy! In actual fact, I think I would go so far as to say that, if you are a mum and your life is in fact a breeze, you are doing something seriously wrong…!<br />
<br />
Sorry folks…rant over…ha. Back to the story.<br />
<br />
So, I was working away in my nice little job in the city, but starting to regret that I hadn’t pursued my dream. But with a young family and all the responsibilities that that entails, I had long since said goodbye to my now unfeasible pursuit of happiness. Until…<br />
<br />
One very average day I was dealing with a customer who had come in to discuss a faulty product. It just so happened that her son was heavily involved with rugby, and, as my husband also played, we got chatting, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something I really liked about her. We somehow ended up chatting about her daughter’s horse, which then lead to the following discussion.<br />
<br />
“Actually I always wanted to be an equine vet… guess we don’t always get what we want,” I said.<br />
<br />
“Why didn’t you” she replied immediately.<br />
<br />
“Well, you see, I had a little boy instead!”<br />
<br />
“Ah, I see.”<br />
<br />
I nodded in agreement, but then unexpectedly she fired back with;<br />
<br />
“Well I wouldn’t let that stop you! Would you not think about going back to study?”<br />
<br />
“What now?”<br />
<br />
“Yes!”<br />
<br />
At which point I thought either A) this woman hasn’t heard me properly or B) she’s a sandwich short of a picnic.<br />
<br />
“No, no, I left that notion behind a long time ago.” I laughed<br />
<br />
“Ah well. Fair enough, as long as you are happy” she said, with a sympathetic smile.<br />
<br />
Once she had left a member of staff came scurrying over to me and said, you know the lady you where just with? Well she is one of the top paediatric surgeons in NI, she looked after my nephew a number of years back.<br />
<br />
Really?? I though she just seamed like a very nice, inconspicuous ‘mumsie’ sort of lady, definitely not the type I would have expected to find wielding a scalpel in her day job (I know, I know, idiot for stereotyping)!<br />
<br />
On the way home I couldn’t stop churning over what she had said.<br />
<br />
I kept asking myself, am I happy here? Like, actually happy? Is this my life for the next forty-five years?<br />
<br />
It’s not like I’m very unhappy, I thought, but then again I wouldn’t say that I’m happy either. Maybe you could call it subclinical unhappiness or something like that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, a week or so went by when, totally out of the blue, I arrived into work, and one of the girls handed me a parcel. It was wrapped with brown paper and tied with twine. I opened it and it was a book (DISCLAIMER: I’m not on commission nor do offer any guarantees that it actually works). It was the much talked about (and often controversial) book called “The Secret”. My name was scribbled on the inside but no name left or suggestion of whom it might be from, on quizzing the messenger, the description matched the lady’s to a T.<br />
<br />
How very odd, I thought.<br />
<br />
I guess I’m a bit of a skeptic, and the idea of a book that could actually change your entire outlook on life seemed ridiculous. The only other book I’ve heard of with that effect is the Bible, and that seemed like a lot to live up to…!<br />
<br />
Anyway, since someone went to the bother of giving it to me, I felt duty bound to read it. That weekend, I curled up on the sofa with a cuppa and began; but, oddly for me, I couldn’t put it down. Some of the stuff I thought a bit far-fetched, but mostly I quite liked the principle behind it the idea ‘a positive mind-set will attract positivity to your life’ (I suppose its not an entirely new concept).<br />
<br />
I guess it could be argued the events which were to follow may have happened anyway, but I can say it did give me an unusual sense of empowerment over my fate. It was almost as if I had been sitting in the passenger-seat while the car was freewheeling, when suddenly I realised I could take the wheel and drive wherever I wanted…<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-32021720470600621052017-03-08T05:32:00.000-08:002017-03-08T05:32:36.560-08:00What is the difference between determination and delusion?<div class="xmsonormal">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">There is something that I have often thought about, and always
found curious when it comes to human nature - what makes one person decide to
draw the line and another person decide to keep going? What is the difference
between determination and delusion? And how far is too far, or not far enough?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I have spent a lot of
time deliberating over these things in the past few years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">When someone asks me,
“When did you decide you wanted to be a vet?”, my answer is always the same -
“I have absolutely no idea”. I can’t remember a time when I ever wanted to do anything
else, aside from a brief phase where I thought I might like to be a farrier
(but perhaps that was just for tea and cakes!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Okay, so…let’s skip
back another few years to explain how I ended up in this situation in the first
place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I was trundling through
school just fine, getting pleasing GCSE results, and was dedicated to my
sports, and so the promise of Vet Med was looking good. I had a
part-time/summer job with a fantastic equine vet called Mr. Suffern. Looking
back on it, he probably thought me a bit odd for turning up to work in a
beat-up Ford 6610 tractor (max speed, 27mph) with no back window and Dolly
Parton blasting from the wireless. (Not exactly what you might call COOL when
you’re seventeen, but, as my Dad used to say, second class driving is better
than first class walking!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I had just moved to a
new sixth form and all was going well. Chemistry, Biology, Physics and Maths -
a nerd living the dream, until…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I got myself a CAR! A
Fiat Punto to be precise. I started living life in the fast lane (max speed now
49mph). This particular phase of my life is called ‘trading what you want for
what you want right now’, starting with nights out with friends and a new found
interest in rugby (or, as the guy who fate would have it is now my husband would
like to think, more of an interest in a particular rugby player - big head!).
This resulted in the studies going from being top of the priority list to some
box of books under my bed that never got to see the light of day. To say that I
was now heading off-road would be an understatement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">So what happened next,
you ask? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Well, the next thing I
knew, there was a midwife handing Chris a bouncing baby boy along with her
congratulations, friends and family showering us with presents and balloons,
along with a massive smack round the back of the head from reality!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">We had gone from being
carefree, fun-loving young adults, to sitting in a hospital room gazing down at
this little bundle of joy. All of a sudden, our outlook on life became very
different. “What if?” became so familiar, plans go from being week to week to
the next 6 months and beyond, something I’m sure is true not only for parents
but for anyone who has the responsibility of caring for someone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I guess life has a very
funny way of turning your plans upside down, and perhaps learning to accept and
embrace it is the actual challenge of life? Often easier said than done, I must
admit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">So, with that, I took a
last breath, thought of what could have been, and closed the chapter on my
dream of becoming a vet for good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">I got myself a job in a
large department store as an assistant manager. I was working in the city, in
an industry that was initially quite alien to me, driving sales and setting
targets with figures that make Monopoly look conservative. So I learned the
rules and played the game; I got to go to work well dressed (wearing make-up!),
and was well paid (nothing more than a fading memory these days!). But it
seemed that the better things were going in work, the more targets reached,
commission and pats on the back I received, the more I wished somehow things
had worked out differently. To the outside world, it looked like the perfect
job, and the perfect little life - but in reality, I was a million miles from
where I really wanted to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="xmsonormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">However, city life did
offer one thing I loved, and this was the chance to meet some of the most
fascinating characters. One in particular was a lady called Barbara Bell, who,
unbeknown to me, was a prominent paediatric consultant, and the person who, if
I ever get the chance to meet again, I can inevitably thank for giving me the
courage to turn my life around (or upside down – whichever way you want to look
at it.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-7605851229968782612017-02-08T06:55:00.000-08:002017-02-08T06:55:10.609-08:00A piece of cake!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Now, those of you that know me
will know that I tend not to get embarrassed that easily, and I freely admit
that this is something that I find fundamentally liberating. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Of course I would love to tell
you that this was a result of some confidence-building, life-sorting workshop
that I attended way back when; that would have been an ideal situation. However,
the ACTUAL reason that I rarely glow red and emit awkward radiation these days is
simply that, in the past, I have been in some of THE most perplexing, cringe-worthy,
in the hole so-deep-a-JCB-couldn’t-dig-me-out-situations, and, now, the small humiliations
which occur in day to day life seem somewhat trivial (such as the coffee I dropped all over myself - and the poor chap sitting next to me - in this morning’s
lectures…although he did gain a double chocolate muffin for his troubles). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Anyway, back to the story. In my
eyes, Mr Fitzsimons is one of the few remaining old-school, checked-shirt,
quilted-gilet, peak-capped gents of the veterinary profession; the kind that
elderly women with nine or more cats might leave a house and all their worldly
belongings to in their last will and testament. I guess ultimately his reaction
to my little outburst has helped forge my opinion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
His expression of puzzlement was
soon followed by one of realisation. “Are you…?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I replied with a silent nod. Uttered <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Oh! Ohhh! I see, okay! Not a
problem. Just one second now, bear with me,” he stated whilst becoming
increasingly more uptight and awkward. His face now beginning to turn a
wonderful tomato red. Then, he started frantically searching the surrounding cupboards
as if he was going to find the answer in one of them, eventually grabbing the
x-ray record file and hurtling out of the room, leaving me with whatshisname the
dog who was now staring at me curiously, no doubt wandering how on earth he
ended up getting dragged into this!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Eventually, after what seemed
like forever, he returned with what most men must see as the most ingenious solution
to a problem - a WOMAN! Head vet nurse, Judith, to be precise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Louise, I just have to pop out -
I will leave you with Judith, but I will get speaking to you before the end of
the day.” Then off he darted as fast as his loafers would carry him, leaving
Judith, the dog, and I to all stare blankly at one another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Oh dear,” I said, with a fretful
look on my face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Well I’m not quite sure what he
wants me to do, Louise! But, anyway, congratulations,” she said whilst breaking
into a jittery sort of laugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Thanks…do you think I’m going to
get the sack?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“No, of course you’re not.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I really wasn’t quite so sure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Realistically it’s quite a bit of
hassle, time, and expense when a staff member you have invested time and effort
into just ups and offs for nine months (repeatedly) with really little
guarantee that they will come back. I guess, looking back on it now, knowing
the hassle it would cause was probably what was making me so reluctant to tell
them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
We found a kennel for the dog (poor
thing still hadn’t had his x-ray) with an inevitable question mark beside his
name on the hospitalisation sheet, followed up with “HE IS NOT A STRAY or a PTS!!!”
in capitals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
We withdrew to the quiet of the
office, where I began to sob and apologise profusely for not telling anyone,
whilst poor Judith had to hand me tissues in production line fashion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I suppose now would be a good
time to mention that this office was no ordinary office. Okay, yes, the chairs
are fairly ordinary, and the desks are standard, but this office itself is home
to two extremely rare breeds (I’m going to be in quite a bit of trouble for
writing that…!). In the form of Sarah Barry and Danielle Shields, who have together
acquired the most unsuitable sense of humour to deal with basically whatever
life has to throw at them, although they would profess this to be a result of
them being “institutionalised” to the practice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
So there I was, feeling very
sorry for myself and fearing for my livelihood, with Judith trying to console
me, when Sarah Barry, who had obviously got wind of the latest drama, comes bursting
around the corner with an orange shoulder length examination glove on and a
bottle of ultrasound gel, shouting from the rafters, “Danielle, come here quick!
Put her in the crush till we get her scanned!” in her native farmer’s daughter
brogue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
We erupted into hysterics (even
through stream of tears and sniffling). She then gave me a jolly hug and told
me I would have made quality dairy stock (which I have decided to recall as a
bizarre compliment…!), Danielle then gave me an enormous hug and told me to
look on the bright side, I can eat as much cake as I want and tell everyone it’s
the baby.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">Interestingly none of my female
colleagues at that time were married or had children, which is why the degree
of support they offered during all of my time there still amazes me to this day
- but perhaps this is down to them being genuinely great people.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mr Fitzsimons hadn’t returned
before I left for home, so I knew I would have to cross that bridge in the
morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I drove to work the next day with
Garth Brooks playing so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think - a tactic I have
used frequently going into stressful situations (works quite well I think).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I arrived and began to go about
my business as usual - if anything, trying to be particularly efficient. I was determined
to prove my worth and make sure they knew that I wasn’t going to use pregnancy to
become work-shy. I was fit and well, and, although there was inevitably going
to be some things I wasn’t going to be able to do, there was also a shed load
of things I <i>could </i>do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Just before tea time, I
accidently barged into one of the consult rooms, where Mr Fitzsimons and Mr
Grant were in discussion, Mr Grant was the youngest of the partners, who,
unluckily for him and for no official reason, was our go-to boss if so much as
one duck wasn’t in a row. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hello Louise”, he said in his usual
cheerful tone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hello,” I answered with an uncomfortable
smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I heard your news,
congratulations!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
On this cue again, off
Fitzsimons went like a hare into a hole. I can’t say I blame him though - I
would have been out of there with him if I wasn’t scheduled to face the music. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I braced myself for the blow…but
then, as if some crazy woman took over my vocals, I blurted out, “Do you want
me to resign???” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mr Grant looked surprised. “What?
Why, were you planning on leaving?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“No! No! I’m sorry, I mean, I
don’t know why I said that. I want to stay! I can work right up until due date,
then I will be back once I finish maternity leave.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hmm. Do you really think you are
going to be able to manage that, with two other children as well?” He wasn’t
being patronising, he was being realistic. This was subject he was an absolute
expert on - he and his wife each ran their own businesses as well as having 4
young children and a farm. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
His question was valid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Yes,” I replied, “I can.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
(I suppose a bit of the story you
haven’t yet heard yet was that, not so long before all this pregnancy malarkey,
I found myself sitting in his office, with no significant qualifications to my
name, a house , a family, responsibilities, bills, and a car that needed 2 new
tyres and a wiper blade, telling him that I was going to get myself onto
arguably one of the toughest degrees in the country , places for which require
you go into metaphorical battle with some of the best and the brightest obsessive-compulsive
veterinary have-to-be’s in the country. PIECE OF CAKE!...)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
He looked at me in disbelief, no
doubt thinking that perhaps I had taken leave of my senses. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Louise, do you have any idea how
difficult that would be for you?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hmmm, sort of…but I am going to
do it, you know!” I said with a cheerful smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-82102514473169158802017-01-20T07:04:00.000-08:002017-01-20T07:04:15.823-08:00Telling the Bosses<div class="MsoNormal">
When you work in a vets there are two quite intimidating factors you need to overcome when telling your boss that you are pregnant. The first is that, in general, you don’t just have one boss - in my case there were five. And the second, as statistics will reflect, is that the majority of these bosses are MEN! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I should write them a letter, or perhaps i could pick one of them to speak to, but which one? Will I tell them now or wait until I get so big they have to ask me? Actually maybe I should just quit, yep that would be a hell of a lot easier!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway after lots of deliberation and having given all options serious consideration I decided in the end to do…. nothing! That’s right, I did absolutely nothing, and instead the following weekend rang my good friend and vet office manager Danielle and asked her to meet me for lunch. Just as she was about to tuck into her chipolata chicken fajitas, I hit her with it! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?” “Again?” “I mean sorry, Congratulations!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I know, thanks, so how am I going to tell the bosses? “</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mmm, I don’t know, I suppose your just going to have to tell them Louise”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes I know that! But how?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So every evening on my way home from work I would think about what I was going to say and convince myself that tomorrow was the day. But tomorrow came and tomorrow went, the weeks came and went. I managed to wriggle out of assisting with x-rays and the heats for the giant dog lift World Championships, and meanwhile, Danielle, who was sworn to secrecy, did her best to assign me bundles of paperwork. Meanwhile my colleagues were becoming increasingly suspicious of my new found need to carry a pocket sized Sterillium with me at all times, two squirts of which was a MUST if I so much as looked a cat poo. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So basically instead of doing the logical thing by stepping up and taking control of the situation I let the situation take control of me. (FYI, that was not the best idea I’ve ever had).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a Friday afternoon, I know this because Friday was cake day, and Mr. Fitzsimons, one of our senior practice partners called me into the consult room as I was mid face-full of Victoria Sponge. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Louise, would you mind having Mrs. C sign Oscar’s consent for a pelvic x-ray, then meet me in the imaging suite.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This my friends was what I like to refer to as, my “Oh Sh1t” moment!’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The practice was two nurses down and I was about to be asked to help with an X-Ray.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, not a problem,” I mumbled through the mouth full of cake, whilst trying to maintain some level of professionalism.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m gonna get the sack! No, they can’t sack me, it’s illegal! Yeah, but they could find another reason to get rid of me, like they’re downsizing or some hogwash like that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you have a pen dear?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me do you have a PEN?!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, Oh yes of course sorry!” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Snap out of it Louise! I could feel my heart racing and some sort of odd ringing in my ear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Will he have to stay in over night?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Pardon?” I replied. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Will he get HOME today?” she repeated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes I should imagine so” realising as soon as I said it I actually hadn’t got a clue!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then as if that wasn’t bad enough I committed the cardinal of all veterinary sins!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry what was his name again?” I asked sheepishly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My name?” she replied </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No sorry, the dogs name?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oscar, it’s OSCAR!” with noted frustration presumably at my clear lack of attention. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And what a good boy you are Oscar” I said trying to redeem myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, well Oscar can come with me now and Mr. Fitzsimons will ring you as soon as he has the results” and off she went, clearly of the opinion I wasn’t capable of being responsible for a teddy bear, never mind her four legged pride and joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Oh Oscar, why couldn’t you just be like every other Westie and have itchy skin or something?’ I asked as I picked him up. This was all my own doing; why hadn’t I plucked up the courage to sort this before now? The partners were genuinely nice people and great to work for; this being said, you would imagine it would make the prospect of telling them easier, but instead it had the complete opposite effect! I was coming up to 16 weeks now and still hadn’t said a word. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I carried Oscar down to imaging the feeling of guilt seemed to increase with every step, guilt that I hadn’t told them yet, guilt that they will have to once again organise maternity cover for me and guilt that I wasn’t able to give my job 100% as I have always tried to in the past. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And in the midst of this guilt I felt a far greater more profound guilt towards my unborn baby, husband, and self for feeling guilty about being pregnant in the first place. It was the ultimate catch-22.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was frantically trying to think what I should say. By the time we arrived at the bottom of the hall my face and Oscar’s coat were rather a similar shade of white.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Okay, Oscar, let’s get you sorted” said Mr. Fitzsimons</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it came…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Louise can you give me a hand to X-Ray.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I cant!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I blurted out rather more loudly than I had intended, catching the attention of other nearby staff.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?” he said with a look of confusion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I mean, I’m sorry, but I have something I need to tell you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-16164289357976743232017-01-16T02:35:00.001-08:002017-01-16T02:35:34.812-08:00It’s an EMERGENCY!Now, don’t get me wrong; I love my children with all my heart, and count myself wholly blessed to have them. However, when you have just finished a stint of being the human equivalent of Daisy the dairy cow and you STILL haven’t had a full nights sleep in over four years, this is the kind of information that can strike fear into the best of us!<br />
<br />
What do I do? What do I do?!<br />
<br />
It has been said that people react in peculiar ways in stressful situations, and as it turns out I am no different!<br />
<br />
Ring…. Ring…. Ring …..Ring……..<br />
<br />
Receptionist: Hello Village Medical Practice.<br />
Me: Hello! My name is Louise Samuel-Napier, I need an emergency appointment….today!<br />
Receptionist: Can I ask the nature of the emergency?<br />
Me: I just found out I’m PREGNANT!<br />
Receptionist: Hmm…do you definitely need an EM..ERG..EN..CY appointment?<br />
Me: Yes! Yes I DO!<br />
Receptionist: Err, ok…. Well…. Dr. Crawford has an ‘urgent only’ appointment at 2:45pm?<br />
Me : Great, I’ll take it!<br />
<br />
Like, seriously! I can’t say that this was responsible use of our NHS, nor do I remember what I was expecting him to do. Un-diagnose my self-diagnosis perhaps? But, just as I was hanging up the phone, a feeling of absolute trepidation washed over me.<br />
<br />
“I’ve been helping with X-Rays! Cleaning out kennels! LITTER TRAYS! And perched right beside that dammed anesthetic machine! Oh this is not good!”<br />
<br />
So, for the second time that day, I packed my poor children into the car, and off we went, this time to the Doctor. After a wait that seemed to go on forever (allowing my two youngsters to successfully litter the waiting room with NHS leaflets whilst reception staff looked on disapprovingly at my poor attempts to regain some control over the little vandals, it was finally our turn to go in. After an exhaustive rant to Crawf (as he is affectionately known in our family) of all the things I had done in work in the past 4 weeks, and how some of the time “I wasn’t even wearing gloves!” and with my PhD in Google reeled off all the harmful effects this could have on an unborn child.<br />
<br />
Eventually he broke his silence. “Now, Louise,” he said in a calm, reassuring tone “some of these examples to which you are referring are incredibly rare, and, most of them, I have not come across in practice. I have plenty of patients who are vets and vet nurses who have worked during pregnancy, and, going forward, if you take the necessary precautions at work, it should be fine.”<br />
<br />
I can’t honestly say that this made my concerns disappear overnight but mostly I did try to keep things in perspective; still, you and I both know ‘necessary precautions’ in a mixed veterinary practice could realistically include anything from putting on a glove to wearing full American football attire and carrying a personal oxygen supply.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Behind Closed doors.</b><br />
When the ‘sh1t’ hits the fan, apparently I come across as calm and level headed(at least to the outside world), but in fact this could not be further from the truth. Indeed what my coping mechanism generally involves is having a series of short but dramatic melt downs, in the security of my own home, preferably when my children are asleep so no one else other than my poor unsuspecting husband can see. Then, once the amateur dramatics have come to a close, I try to remind myself of all the positive factors in the situation, then go to bed in the hope that it will all look better in the morning.<br />
<br />
So true to form I waited until my husband returned from work to cry uncontrollably and repeatedly tell him how, it was all his fault (obviously!) until I eventually calmed down and came to the conclusion that, as we had always wanted three children, it was, in fact, a GREAT idea!<br />
<br />
I could literally talk myself in or out of anything, but getting out of this one wasn’t an option, so in it was.<br />
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BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-11768879909955359222017-01-10T07:26:00.000-08:002017-01-10T07:26:22.590-08:00You have got to be kidding!<div class="MsoNormal">
Rewinding back a few years from my first blog, it was a picturesque autumn
morning Ethan had just turned four and Darcey was seven months and being the delightful
little world wind that any seven month old is. I was happily settling back into
work at the practice but all week I had a peculiar feeling something was up!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me : “<i>Something’s not
right</i>” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Me 2: “<b><i>Stop being dramatic your fine</i></b>!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: “<i>No, seriously I feel a bit funny</i>” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Me 2: “<b><i>Your grand!! Perhaps you have eaten
something that didn’t agree with you</i></b>?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: “<i>yeah, probably….
But actually what if……????</i> ” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Enough is enough! Impatience and curiosity two of my many
qualities …Euh! I dusted the breakfast crumbs off Ethan, wiped his face (with a
baby wipe, ahhh, BAD mother!), bundled the baby in to her car seat and off we
set. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When we arrived at the chemist I grabbed the biggest bottle
of water I could find then discreetly picked up a double pack of clear blue (of
which I’m sure every man and their dog is familiar with thanks to the
persistent and somewhat unrealistic YouTube adverts). Then just like the script
you couldn’t write who comes waltzing into the chemist and joins the queue behind
me but Mrs. Dorman, so called ‘friend of the family’ and gossip of all gossips who
frequently likes to voice her opinion on my life choices. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Seriously! I thought, why me? <o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Hello Louise</i>” she
said leaning over my shoulder “<i>you’re looking well</i>!” she remarked in
her factitiously friendly tone. As I was sporting tracksuit bottoms and an
oversized hoodie with my hair scraped back and a visage naturel, I couldn’t but
infer her sarcasm.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Ahh hello Belinda</i>”
I said as if I hadn’t already clocked her presence. I did my best to conceal
the pregnancy tests whilst trying not to succumb to her finely tuned
interrogation skills, I was clearly struggling so I did what every one of us
does best and defaulted to, the weather! (God bless changeable weather, I’m
sure it’s saved many a hide.) Then just as the person in front was handing over
their money, and for fear of her beady eyes seeing what I was about to buy..</div>
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“<i>Oh Gosh</i>! “ I said,</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>I completely forgot
shampoo! Id better run back, enjoy the rest of your weekend</i>.” I said in
haste<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Oh…ok, well, see you
soon</i>” she mumbled, presumably frustrated that the only intelligence she
managed to extract was my thoughts on last nights strong winds. HA!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Eventually after a lengthy decision making process on the
bath & shower aisle to ensure the coast was clear, I picked up the same
shampoo I’ve been buying for at least the past 5 years, scurried to the till,
paid and hurried out of the shop as fast as I could carry a baby in a car seat
and coax a four year old.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The drive home was driving me to distraction, my brain was
working overtime trying to figure out what on earth I was going to do if I was
pregnant again. ‘<b><i>I can’t be pregnant again!! This wasn’t in the PLAN !</i></b>’ in
between moments of sheer panic I was taking massive gulps of water so I
wouldn’t have to wait around for the need to pee when I go home and trying to
compose myself to answer my son’s persistent requests to go to the park! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Go to the park, I thought…..NOW?? Perhaps the other parents and their
offspring would enjoy seeing a public break down ehh?!<o:p></o:p></div>
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When we arrived home I plonked Ethan in front of the TV and thankfully
Darcey was fast asleep. I ran straight
into the bathroom whipped the wrapper off, didn’t need to read the
instructions, bit of a pro at this stage! Then came the dreaded wait<b>;</b> Clear Blue unlike the £2.99 bargain
basement pregnancy sticks is much too fancy to have you watch with anticipation
as your pee travels up the stick instead it loads as if it where a web page
then flashes the answer at you like those annoying Bet 365 adverts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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3-4 Weeks 3-4
Weeks 3-4 Weeks <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>“You have got to be kidding!”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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BEVAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239939369943367704noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3258159973361550731.post-70765307622278516312017-01-03T06:20:00.003-08:002017-01-04T03:30:30.918-08:00Motherhood is a Task, Just Don't Let Everyone Know It!<div class="MsoNormal">
“My Dearest, we all know
motherhood is a task but you’re not supposed let everyone know it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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My Grandmother's words were echoing through my mind as I sat
at the breakfast bar, peering down at the pictures in the Veterinary Times,
whilst sporting a bed-head that even a Highland Cow would be proud of and
eating Alpin with a Mr. Men spoon. But what did she mean, you’re not supposed to let everyone
know it!? If making motherhood look effortless is some sort of secret,
someone really needs to let me in on it because right now I’m pretty sure I am
painful to watch.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Snap out of it Louise its 7:08am and the children are still in
bed! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Let me introduce myself, My name is Louise Samuel-Napier, wife
of Chris and mother to three wonderful children (most of the time), Ethan (8) Darcey
(5) and Eliza (4), we have a cat called Edmond, a Shetland pony called Macca
Packa and two guinea pigs whom are without name, because we simply gave up
naming them after the fifth one popped its clogs. I'm currently studying veterinary
medicine at the Royal Veterinary College, a course I love with a passion, so much so
that I’m about to be late for my 9:00am dissection, and those of you who are
familiar with the Infamous Mr. Crooke, will know it won't go unnoticed!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We moved to Hertfordshire in September of 2015 from the
quaint country life of rural County Down, where I worked as a veterinary
technician in a mixed practice. My husband’s work required him to go to London
and I had always wanted to be a vet so it seemed like the perfect plan! Anyway to cut a long story short we packed up
our old life hopped on a boat and voilà! We arrived on the marvelous, rocky coast
of England with ……(wait for it) no house, no nursery or school for our kids
and not a familiar faces in sight, not to
mention we hadn’t the slightest idea of the enormity of the task we were
about to undertake! But actually that’s a story for another day...!</div>
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