Day in the life of a rheumy mummy
To be fair this last month has been extraordinarily busy. A family of five is always going to be busy. Always cleaning to do, the washing basket is never empty. Children in this weather are grubby (don’t you just love the heady mix of sun-cream and dirt?), sweaty and usually bad-tempered. There’s always an appointment to be at, a football training session to be late for and work to contend with. What makes it worse is that I’m feeling pants. So, this is a synopsis of a day in the life of a rheumy mum.
I’m following on from last night’s post on Life as Mum.
Good morning ouch
If I look back at my sleep patterns on my Fitbit (other sleep and fitness trackers are available!) it seems that my best night sleep of late is 4hrs and 23 minutes. This sounds about right. I can’t drop off, because I can’t get comfy, and then when I do, I get pins and needles in my side, my arms, or cramp in one of my thighs. So when G wakes me up at 5:45am, I find that I am unnecessarily bad-tempered, or that I really can’t move. I cuddle him in bed most mornings wishing I’d never gone to sleep. This is like the hangover for me. I’ve never had one of those, but it takes me at least an hour to get out of bed. Not that I like lying in bed, I just physically can’t stand up or unfreeze my joints.
Cuddles for G and entertainment for him are a must before his breakfast, and I think he enjoys these hours squeezed in between my partner and I. Sometimes I don’t think my partner understands how infuriating it is that I can’t just get up and run like I used to. I wish I could. Sometimes G doesn’t get it but he’s only two. He finally concedes to hunger and asks for his banana and hoops. I’m so lucky with the elder two. They’re pretty self-sufficient and will have fed themselves leaving a lovely bomb-site in the kitchen. Occasionally my daughter will be an absolute star and take G down for toast. These two have an absolutely amazing relationship. I wish I could say the same for her and her other brother. I’m lucky if world war three doesn’t break out if they’re downstairs together for too long.
Getting stuck into the day
The first time I stand on my feet in the morning is the most painful thing ever. Forget childbirth, I’d have another three rather than have to flatten my feet against the floor. It gets better the longer I stand up, and straighten up. The school run comes calling too quickly. We share this usually. G has just started in pre-school and those two and a half hours go so quickly. I work some mornings, only part-time, but if I’m in all day I’ve got to be very careful about what I’m wearing on my feet. Or I won’t be able to put anything on them the following day.
I wasn’t working this morning so it was a cuddle with G and off to a friend’s house to pat her dog, entertain her vastly articulate children, and for G to make sand castles in field dirt. This friend allowed me to rant at her for very many years, and today was no different. We offload about our children, drink coffee, rant about our houses, our plans, where we went wrong with our lives. I think it’s kinda normal to do this kind of thing, right?
I have to break the ranting short, because I have a second job at the moment which requires me to work evenings. And G is smelly, and hungry!
I’ve been advised to lose weight and stay active. Also to cut any gluten or allergens out of my diet where possible. I’m already a member of Slimming world but since I joined I’ve completely lost motivation. Possibly because I’m self medicating the pain with food. Usually chocolate. Like a weight loss ninja I’ve piled on three stone since falling ill and the sudden onset of RA last November. Yes that’s three stone in nine months. Go me.
G tucks into his hastily made spag bol and I have salad and chicken. I have a bit of a rheumy type flare going on in my shoulder and elbow so fail to lift G into the highchair. He sits on my knee and we both get thoroughly drenched in passata sauce. Slowly we make our way upstairs, get changed, and head out to get nain as she nainysits in the evenings for me.
Making a living
I love my job, I will miss it but I’ve had to give this one up due to my RA. It consists of having to lift and carry tables, chairs books and reorganising a room to present it to people. I love running the group but I’ve become slow and clumsy, forgetful and unable to cope with the physicality. Thursday – I suffer all day the following day after a Wednesday night. I only have one group left to go and I’ll probably cry next week. They’ve taught me much more than I’ve taught them.
On a Wednesday, G will be in bed when I get home but I try to spend time with the older babies. They’re still my babies after all. Ellis will always be covered in muck from football. Cara will always be worried about a friend at school, or ready to tell me about drama that’s occurred on the school bus home. Both will be wanting and deserving of some affection.
What happens on bad days?
I’ve only ever had a couple of particularly bad days. These days I couldn’t even get out of bed. But in bed I was constantly having to move, so no rest, and no sleep. I can’t work on very bad days because I’m bloody lucky to make it to the toilet in the bathroom let alone carry a table. I was so bad in November I had to drag myself along the landing and then bum shuffle down the stairs to get to the lounge. I’m stuck once I get there. Most people see me with a huge smile, and chatty exterior. This is the person I am. I’m outgoing, easygoing. But my life behind closed doors has changed very considerably since the winter.
Written a lot here, and some of you may find it a bit boring. But this is the day in my life at the moment. Welcome to the mad house! I’m lucky I have support all around me and that I really haven’t been that bad in months. Cross fingers things remain the same. So now to bed for more insomnia pins and needles hours I have great company – the new Stephen King novel 😉