You know those little periods in life where lots of little things go wrong? Silly little frustrating things that don’t really matter but build up to leave you feeling exhausted and just a little bit pissed off? We had a few days like that.
It started on Friday. Me, Trevor and Iris hopped on a train to Cardiff, then we split and went on our separate ways. Iris and I to Bristol, to spend a weekend with my mum. Trev to Cornwall, to pick up our new wheels and drive them all the way home. Iris was no trouble. She’s so used to trains now, it doesn’t really bother her. She watched Twirlywoos on my iPad and stood on the seat to have a dance. Trev’s journey was long but went smoothly. It was all going well.
At Bristol Parkway I got off the train with a pushchair, my chubby one year old and three big heavy bags to be greeted by a sign informing me that all of the lifts were being replaced and were switched off. Great. They do have staff there to help you, but they also have a lot of steps! From the platform to the bridge, a nice man held the front of the pushchair and went up the stairs first. This meant I had the weight of Iris, the pushchair and all of our stuff. Ouch. My poor hips. On the stairs back down I was informed it’s their policy that they can only help with empty pushchairs. Strange how only some staff are following this policy! So he carried my empty and not particularly heavy pushchair while I carried Iris and three huge bags. Still, it could be worse. All wheelchair users were being redirected to Temple Meads. Miles away, and with very poor bus links. I’m not sure how they’re getting away with it. Is it even legal to run an inaccessible train station? And why wasn’t I informed on the train beforehand?
Saturday went without a hiccup. We had a really quite lovely family day out.
On Sunday our crap luck continued.
Trevor had dropped the new van off at the valeters, and left it there overnight as he was very busy finishing the decking in the garden. On Sunday morning he walked down to pick it up to find it wouldn’t start. Flat battery. The valeters had left the lights on. They were closed. The garage next door was closed. He failed to get the battery off himself, and walked back home feeling a bit pissed off. Then one of his power tools broke too.
Meanwhile, we were out for lunch in Bath before visiting my grandfather. After waiting a lifetime for our order to even be taken, the manager plonked a scolding hot plate of bangers and mash in front of Iris. Before we had time to react, she’d stuck a finger in the mash and had burnt herself. Half an hour later and she finally calmed down, and none of us had actually managed to eat our food. We did complain, but nobody really cared. Poor Iris.
Then on the train home that afternoon, Iris lunged off her train seat to get a better look at a guide dog that had just got on. I had hold of her leg, but her face still hit the floor and one of her brand new teeth cut into her top lip. She sobbed for the next half and hour and covered us both in blood, but finally calmed down and ended up lying on the floor stroking the guide dog she’d so desperately wanted to meet. I didn’t calm down for a whole day or more. I felt like the world’s crappest mother ever. Poor kiddo.
It didn’t stop there. On Monday Trevor picked us up from playgroup as he was in town collecting his new glasses, and as we were still and waiting to pull out of the car park, somebody drove into the side of the car. The old car, thankfully, and there is only a tiny mark. It terrified me though, as they hit the door next to Iris’s seat and the noise was worse than the impact. Trevor was furious, and the offending driver wasn’t even shaken up. In fact she wasn’t really bothered. She complained to Trevor that it was a brand new car like it was his fault.
Why do these things come in such big numbers? They may only be little incidences and not a big deal, but really, why so many all in one go? How many days have to go by before I can be sure we’ve got passed it? I’m almost scared to go out.
I know this is silly.
I’m just in so much pain, and I’m so tired. I’m determined I won’t be stopped by the SPD this time. It’s not fair on Iris. We may slow down slightly over winter, but I don’t want her to miss out on seeing friends and family and going to playgroups. So I just keep going. Thankfully I now have a prescription for some stronger painkillers and a referral for physiotherapy. I couldn’t convince doctors to give me either of those when I was pregnant with Iris, so it’s definitely an improvement. It is so hard not to let little things really get to you when you have been awake all night because you need a wee every five minutes and you feel all unbalanced and hormonal.