Ouch!

This morning at 8:05am, I stepped on a bit of glass.  Not only did I step on it, I pretty much ground my heel onto it.  One wasted trip to my GP's surgery and a fairly long trip to Accident & Emergency later, I STILL have a shard of glass stuck in my foot.  The ENP couldn't get the glass out, even with the aid of local anesthetic and a scalpel!

I'm going to be seeing someone in the orthopedics department, but not until Monday.  They think that the glass might work itself out before then, but if it doesn't I will have to go in for a little minor surgery to remove it.  In the mean time, I have to walk around with a bit of glass in my foot.  Well, not so much walk as hobble.  It's incredibly painful.

I'm pretty much stoned right now on the co-codamol they gave me after my c-section.  It just about makes the pain bearable.  Instead of sharp stabbing, it is more like a dull and constant ache.

Thank goodness for the NHS.  Flawed, but awesome all the same.  Because my trip to A&E cost me petrol money, and that's it.  No ER doctor charge, no charge for the anesthetic, no charge for the x-ray, no charge for the wound dressing, and no charge for the penicillin I was prescribed.  Plus, should I require minor surgery there will be no charge for that, either.

I learned today that U.S. residents who come over DO pay a small fee for NHS services--£72, whether it's x-rays on a broken leg or emergency surgery.  Pretty amazing though, huh?  I know plenty of people who'd love to only pay roughly $100 in total for a hospital visit.

I'm feeling very blessed today.  My wonderful husband took time off work to get me to the hospital, and he came home to help me get the kids into bed tonight.  My gorgeous kids quite happily watched a movie and ate popcorn this evening while I kept my feet up.  And I'm loving the drugs.  I don't take pain relief very often, but I'm glad it's available when I need it.

Losing my religion...

About two weeks ago, Dylan informed me that they say a prayer in school every day at Assembly.  I was furious!

I was never opposed to all prayer in schools.  A lot of us would say prayers together before drill team competitions, volleyball games, plays and the like.  But I AM against the entire school coming together and praying.

It's not like I am against prayer.  We have taught both our children to pray.  I'm just worried that he's learning the "wrong" kind of prayers.

I was actually that parent who spoke to his teacher about it at parents' night--demanding to know all the details and asking why I wasn't informed they were doing it.    After all, it's a State school, not a Church of England school.  She actually offered to take him out of the room during the prayer if I felt it necessary.

Isn't that funny?  We probably go to church more in one week than most of the people at his school go to in a year, and I'm the one who pitched a (mini) fit about prayers in Assembly...

Maybe I'm too American in this regard.  I was raised to believe in a separation of Church and State, and anything other than that just seems wrong.

At any rate, I am not making Dylan leave Assembly for prayers.  I am just informed now, so I can do religious damage control at home if needs be.  I want him praying the way I teach him, not the way his school Head teaches him.

I can't wait to get Dylan in an American school.  NOT because they are superior to English schools, mind you.  Just because I am more familiar with what goes on over there than I am over here.  It's all so, well, foreign!

Why I love England, reason #759

Yesterday we went to the dentist.  We have a big family appointment every six months with Dentist Steve over in Hessle (just outside of Hull).

Everyone was cavity free and the kids were GREAT for their checkups.  Martin and I also got a quick de-scale and polish, which I haven't had done since we moved here in 2005.  It made me think...

Dental care is not as good here as it is in the U.S.  I'm not being negative about England--just stating a fact.  Americans are notorious for being "obsessed" with teeth.  But knowing that the care is not as good has encouraged me to take better care of my teeth.  So the reason I love England is that the dental care has made me take more responsibility for myself.

Oh, and we get it for free because of our very low income.

After our dentist appointment, the kids and I dropped Martin off at the train/bus station and we went on a picnic.  I took them to the Humber Bridge Country Park, which is the park on the Yorkshire end of the Humber Bridge.  It was amazing!

The picnic was average, but I bought strawberries (which Edith ate her own weight in) and crisps (which Dylan went mad for), so the kids were happy.  Then we went for a wander and explore, because we'd never been there before.  We discovered a local nature reserve down in an old quarry site.  I have never seen anything so beautiful, mysterious, and peaceful.  I got some lovely pictures, which I will try to post later.

So that is the other reason I love England--and the one that I always come back to.  It is so beautiful here.  I want to move home more than anything, but that's only because my family is in Utah.  I would happily stay in England forever if they would just move here with me.  I love the health care system, the culture, the history, the cities, the countryside.  Man, I even love the weather.  Most of the time.

This day 4 years ago was my due-date for Dylan.  Kind of wild.  I can hardly believe it's been 4 years since then.  I remember how anxious I was to have him.  I was so heavily pregnant and miserable.  I hadn't slept properly in weeks and my whole body ached.  My ankles had disappeared.  My pelvis was seperating and rolling over in bed at night was an agonizing 5 minute process.  Dylan would get massive hiccups and I could feel his head banging against the bones in my pelvis.  I was waking up at 4am every morning to pee.  And, though I didn't know it then, I had 10 days to go.

It seems like yesterday and a decade ago all at once.  Did I ever NOT have children? 

Some excitement on the Edith front.  Yesterday she went diaper free for 2 hours with no accidents.  She finally did a proper pee on her potty, too.  Her bladder control is excellent, though she continues to show no interest in being potty trained.  She just prefers to wear diapers.  I think she is lazy and likes them for convenience.  But she also told me when she was pooping--not after, but just before and during.  It's a good sign, right?

I'm finally seeing the light at the end of my 4 year long bottom wiping tunnel, and it's looking pretty good!

Why I love living in England, reason number 103

So we had a friend come over and cut a hole in our back garden wall so we could get bins for our rubbish, but we didn't just get a bin for household waste.  We also got a green waste bin and a plastic and coardboard bin.  Added to the tubs we have for paper, glass, and aluminum, that adds up to a lot of recycling bins.

Yes, they take up a lot of space.  But we only need to have our actual trash collected every other week.  For a family of 4 with a baby in diapers, that's pretty amazing.  And I guess it's kind of great that we're doing our part to save the Earth.  The recycling scheme is so good (not to mention convenient) over here.

What am I going to do when we move back to Utah?  I love to ease and convenience of recycling, and it's not that easy or convenient back home.  But I still want to do it.  I guess we'll just make it work.

One thing's for sure--we will definitely have a compost bin or two.  It is amazing how much of our garbage is green waste.  And if you garden, you need soil improvers anyway.  All my U.S. gardening friends, you should so get on that!

So yeah, kudos to the North Lincolnshire Council for their recycling program.  You've given me one more reason to love living in England.

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In other news, Dylan has a "taster day" at Castledyke Primary School tomorrow.  Pretty exciting stuff!

Edith has learned to hit people (mostly her big brother) with her cast.  She's lethal.  She's also started calling herself "Bob," and tonight learned how to say "night night" to her dad on the phone.

I dyed my hair dark brown and got about 2 inches cut off the bottom.  Looking kind of gothic, but using blush to compensate.

Martin washed and waxed the car today, plus cut the grass at the flats next door.  He's earning major brownie points!

Musical memories...

Have you ever linked an event to music so closely that just hearing a song reduces you to tears?

In September of 2004 I discovered I was pregnant.  We had been "trying" for over two years with no success, so I was thrilled.  Two years doesn't seem like that long, but when you break it down into individual blocks of 28-35 days, that's a lot of heartache and disappointment.  From the moment I saw those two lines on the home pregnancy test, I was having a baby.  A much loved and anticipated baby.

Well, most of you know that I don't have a 5 year old.  When I went to see my OB-Gyn, he did an ultrasound.  I had no idea how far along I might be, so he wanted to use the scan to determine my due date.  Imagine our surprise when my womb was empty but there was a large mass on my fallopian tube.  Imagine.

Rather than perform surgery, my doctor encouraged me to have a chemical termination.  I went in to a cancer clinic two days later and had methotrexate injections.  Then I went home and cried myself to sleep and waited for my body to start aborting my baby.

Several weeks passed, and Martin and I came to England to visit his family for Christmas.  While we were here, I heard this song:



("F word" alert, for all the sensitive and those reading my blog with young children in the room.)

You have to listed to the whole album to get the back story.  But the chorus just kept echoing in my mind.  Over and over, I heard "It's the end of something I did not want to end.  The beginning of hard times to come.  But something that was not meant to be is done, and this is the start of what was."

I was listening to the Streets yesterday while Martin took the kids to Dads' Group.  I was up to my elbows in dirty dish water, scrubbing brush in hand, when this song came on.  It all came back to me so powerfully, and I wept.

I grieved for a long time over that baby who was not meant to be.  But that little life that never quite made it brought us to England.  And even though I'm ready to come home now, this is where we were meant to be.  So many good things have happened to us here, and I wouldn't change a thing even if I could..

The "character" of the neighborhood...

I was writing an e-mail to someone this morning, and I mentioned Mickey B.  Then I realized that I have never written about him, which seems a bit remiss of me.  Seriously, we see him nearly every day.  Dylan and Edith see him more often than they see their own grandparents!  How can my beloved blog readers not know about him?

Mickey lives around the corner, on Newport.  His house has a red front door, and until about 4 months ago he kept his Christmas lights up all year long.

Mickey also owns a shop, "Mickey B's Fruit and Veg and Fancy Goods."  It is also on Newport, pretty much directly across the street from his house. 

What can I say about this shop?  Just this--it is totally bizarre!  It is in what would have been the front room of an old house, and it is crammed full of all sorts.  As advertised in the name, he sells fruit and veg.  All of it is local and most of it is organic (though he can't advertise it as such because the home growers aren't certified as organic growers).  He also sells little kids toys, sweets, and tins of things like baked beans and custard.  Basically, if you are in the middle of cooking dinner and realize you have run out of a pantry staple, Mickey will have it.  At Christmas he even sells Christmas trees!  And the unique thing about his little shop is that these staples are not over-priced like most convenience shops.  He closes to pick his kids up from school, and will quite often hang a sign in his shop window telling you that he is open--just knock on the door at his house.

He sets up tables on the road outside the shop and sells stuff off the table and the sidewalk as much as out of the house.  Everybody in the neighborhood knows this, and none of us park in front of his shop--except on a Tuesday, because he's closed then and doesn't need the space.  Apparently, he should technically have a street license with what he does, but the police and town council leave him alone.  Why?  Because he is a Barton boy, bred and born.  He's lived here his whole life, has married a local girl, and his kids are both in the local schools.  He is one of the good ol' boys, one of those "salt of the earth" people you hear so much about!

The people in the neighborhood gravitate to Mickey B's to learn the neighborhood gossip and to shoot the breeze. He will talk the ear off anybody who will listen, and he has an opinion on just about everything that he will give to you, whether you ask or not.

Mickey is not someone you would expect to like.  But he learns all of his customers' names, and greets us like long lost friends every time we come in--or even if we just walk by.  He knows everything that goes on in our nieghborhood.  He's broken up knife fights on the street when the police were slow in getting there.  And he says hello to my kids every time he sees them.  He talks to Dylan in a Donald Duck voice, makes him laugh, and gives him sweets.  He tickles Edith to make her smile.  He lets me take veg when I don't have any money on me because he knows me, knows I will pay him the next day, and knows where I live if I don't pay him! :)

So that is Mickey.  He really is a character, and we always like to see him.  Good thing, really, since he's a part of our daily lives!

A beautiful English sunset...

We couldn't capture the true beauty as we were driving and had to find a place to pull over, but this was one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen!

Unique to England?

See the info on the car boot sales below. Kind of weird!


Edith got some really nice cuddles from her nanna, and found the whole even t really relaxing and restful.


Dylan, on the other hand, was a live wire and was hard work to keep up with. Thank goodness for his aunt Cathy!


Wish I could have joined in on this one!