A day in the life of a mum with diabetic and DDH kids (and twin boy!)

2am – Alarm rings like a strangled kitten, awake from sleep in a panic, drool slips from mouth edge and eyes show confusion.  Remember I need to test diabetic twin girls bloods.

2.05am – Stumble through pitch black bungalow and locate eldest daughter in bed.  Turn on fairy lights above her bed and narrowly avoid her head connecting with my chin as she sits bolt up right and screeches “What. Do. You. Want?” before closing eyes and collapsing back to sleep.

2.06am – take blood from daughter pinky finger and grimace as remaining blood sweeps across her pillow, see glucose levels of 16.2, mutter bollocks under breath and head back to bed.

3.15am – play words with friends on phone as sleep is impossible as fretting over high blood sugars and trying to work out solution.  Eventually conclude am not a nurse, dietician or even vaguely intelligent and concentrate on clever two letter words instead.

3.33am – phone dies, am plunged back into darkness.

4.15am – start to dream about tsunami, blame mother for taking me to see The Impossible.  Sob a little in memory of film.

6.03am –  BB shouts for mummy, eyes forced open against their will and legs start to move out of habit towards her door.  Drool still lingers at corner of mouth.  Collect BB return to bed, BB latches on, he who helped create them snores.

6.22am – awoken by almighty fart from two year old daughter.  See he who helped creating them looking at me through slitted eyes with silent accusation, start to protest then realise can’t really be bothered.

7.03am – Surrounded by people shorter than my armpit, close eyes in denial and try to remember when midday was deemed acceptable to get up.

8.00am – Make breakfast for four, on the mornings menu I am serving Toast, Yogurt and blueberries to the boy of the house, yoghurt, blueberries, branflakes and toast to the indecisive toddler and weetabix to the eldest girl.  Watch daughter inject, feel relieved bloody sugars are normal, dispose of needle in sharps box before toddler pokes it in her eye.

8.11am – Look at ruined kitchen and sigh (loudly)

8.15am – Start suggesting it is time to get coats on.

8.20am – Suggest louder.

8.25am – Bellow in a voice that would terrify Batman and order all three children to put on coat, shoes and grab lunch box, bookbag, swimming kit, games kit and water bottle.

8.35am – Leave house, pile in car, drive 12 minute journey to school.

8.47am – Park illegally, poop self slightly when see police car as unloading kids out of illegally parked car.  Try and limp slightly so driving officer may think I have leg problems and take pity.  Sigh (loudly) as he drives away. Ignore twin boy when he tells me I am worlds worse parker.

8.55am – Abondon children in school, tell teacher will be back in thirty minutes to collect twin girl to take to hospital.

8.59am – Argue with BB over wearing shoes back to car.  BB flings shoes into bush, I agree with BB that she should be carried and we retrieve said shoes and head back to car.

9.03am – Drive back to home village, twelve minutes drive away.

9.15am – Put BB in pre-school and cover face with kisses, new teacher looks at me with approval.  Throw lunch box on peg, remember have forgotten her water, try to hide the fact that she doesn’t have water by copiously ignoring place where I should put water bottle.  Tell teacher will be back at 12.30 to collect BB to take her to hospital.

9.18am – Feel proud of self for escaping before teacher asks where non existent water bottle is.

9.19am – Can’t get image of dehydrated BB out of head, see the girl surrounded by water and bottles and not able to drink.

9.20am – Enter pre school, explain water bottle dilemma, teacher promises to give child water if thirsty, reminds me to bring it next time; with her name on.

9.24am – Get in car, chastised, drive twelve-minute journey to school to collect Twin Girl to go to diabetic clinic in hospital.

9.39am – Walk in classroom, am physically assaulted by twin boy who catches me unaware and launches at me with his head aimed at my rib cage.  Stumble into class art work and send bits of paper mache flying.  Start to feel slightly ill by volume of craft surrounding me.  Avoid eye contact with small people whose art career I have just ruined.  Collect twin girl and leave classroom.

9.42am – Take twin girl back to classroom to collect her needles, blood sugar meter and hypo kit.

9.46am – Drive to diabetic clinic in local hospital eight miles away.

10.22am – Arrive at hospital, bursting for loo, locate toilet inside level 2 by the new car park paying machine, dart in with twin girl trailing behind me.  Trust twin girl to lock door behind us.

10.24am – Expose self to elderly man who walks into the unlocked toilet.

10.32am – Finish yelling at twin girl who has yet to stop laughing.

10.41am – Arrive at diabetic clinic, weigh twin girl, measure twin girl, take bloods, see Doctor, talk about high night sugars, get new plan of care, feel happy as HaB1c level is 7.7  (normal), get told am doing good job and my daughter is fantastic.  Hide guilt of yelling at her in loo well.

12.00pm – Still in hospital, waiting to see dietician, start to feel antsy as BB’s hydrotherapy appointment is in an hour and a half; forty miles in the other direction.  Tell twin girl we will need to rush as soon as she is done with dietician.

12.02pm – See dietician, twin girl refuses to sit on chair and ‘lolls’ across bed singing ‘I am a diabetic dude.’  Conclude twin girls blood sugars have dropped and take her blood sugar readings.  3.6 – Twin girl is indeed hypo so give her eight jelly tots and hope to hell she stops talking crap soon.

12.12pm – Dietician tells us we are doing wonderfully and I leave with a smile.

12.13pm – Retest twin girl in waiting room whilst ignoring the sick feeling in stomach that I am going to miss BB’s hospital appointment.

12.14pm – 3.9 – still hypo; silence a rising scream in my throat and give Twin girl an apple juice.

12.16pm – Watch twin girl do cartwheels in waiting room and start to croon into an intravenous drip holder, conclude jelly tots and apple juice have indeed ‘sugared’ her up and usher hyper girl back to car.

12.18pm – Twin girl reminds me she has not had lunch, fall into M&S, but tuna mayo sandwich, cheese puffs and fruit salad.  Start to mentally count the carbohydrate in my head.

12.24pm – Get in car, prepare to drive like a maniac, give twin girl food.

12.25pm – Get out of car to pay for parking. £4

12.26pm – Set off for school, twin girl eats lunch, I repeat carb counting.  Tuna Mayo sandwich – 36, Cheese puffs – 14, Fruit Salad – 15.  Total carbs equal 65.

12.35pm – Program Twin girls blood sugar meter with the carbs whilst at a red light, meter confirms three units of insulin.  Instruct twin girl to prepare needle.

12.36pm – Red light, keep car stationary whilst twin girl injects left thigh, wave politely to red faced man in blue ford focus behind me who is gesturing wildly and mouthing green light, green light.

12.41pm – Arrive at school, put needle away, secure used needle in bag to put in sharps box later, kiss twin girl goodbye and deposit her on a teacher.

12.42pm – Drive the twelve minute journey back to home village, frantically worry that will miss BB’s hydrotherapy session.  Pass Thai restaurant, forget worries for a second whilst thinking of Thai green chilli.

12.54pm – Arrive at pre school, grab BB from a jigsaw and bundle into car, drive away with a dramatic groan as vintage (it has a tape deck) car sighs (loudly).

1.05pm – Internally stress levels are reaching maximum as second hospital seems to be miles away.  Outwardly am singing Baa Baa Black Sheep to distressed BB who wants to finish jigsaw.

1.09pm – Mentally calculate if no traffic issues can be at second hospital for 1.29pm, smile to self and fail to notice the tractor 200 yards ahead.

1.11pm – Swear at tractor, curse the farming industry, ignore BB’s yells of protest about abandoned jigsaw, pray to the big man that she will sleep.

1.13pm – Overtake tractor with a jubilant raised fist.

1.27pm – BB falls asleep, silence in golden.

1.29pm – Park car, grab sleeping child, wake her in process, she asks for jigsaw, ignore her and run like Bolt into the hospital and down to the hydrotherapy pool.

1.34pm – Nice physiotherapy lady is waiting by reception desk, try to explain why late but struggle to get air into lungs as not ran that fast or far in over a year.  Silently hand her my youngest daughter and gesture to swimming bag that is at my feet.

1.40pm – Sit down by pool on blue square chair, ability to breathe seems to be returning.

1.45pm – sit by side of pool watching youngest eagerly kicking leg and quickly wipe away rogue tear that escapes as visualise her last year and marvel at how far she has come.

1.50pm – Reach for tissue in bag as one rogue tear seems to have created a wave of emotion and now can’t stop.

1.55pm – turn pink with embarrassment as hear youngest child respond to physio’s question “what have you done today,” with “drank mummy’s boobie.”. Listen to teenage girls sharing the pool snigger, tears dry up without aid of tissues.

2.10pm – Start to fret about getting home in time to collect twins from school whilst wondering idly what to cook for tea.

2.14pm – Lightbulb moment, decide on ham, egg and chips.

2.16pm – Collect wet BB from pool side, agree she is doing well, listen when told she will be sore tomorrow and a bit whiney.  Quietly smile to self when remember she is in pre school all day whilst I go to work.

2.17pm – Feel guilt for the quiet smile.

2.20pm – Dress BB, ignore wet hair and set off at a pace back to car.

2.24pm – Strap BB in car and prepare to drive like Nigel Mansell.

2.27pm – Stop car, get out of car, return to ticket machine and pay for exit.  £2

2.29pm – Work out have spent £6 on parking.  Work out how many bottles of wine that could have been.

2.30pm – Have a moment of sadness when remember am doing dry January.  Stop caring about parking money.

2.32pm – BB remembers the crime of the abandoned jigsaw, I resume singing Baa Baa.

3.13pm  – Arrive at school, park almost a mile away as all good spaces have gone by mothers who can manage to be on time.

3.14pm – Realise BB has removed her shoes; try to talk to her about importance of shoes but am silenced by her telling me she has a poorly leg and she must be carried.

3.19pm – Arrive at classroom, sweating as ran and carried shoeless BB.

3.20pm – BB sees siblings and wants to walk, remind her she has no shoes on and am thanked with a blow to the head from an angry toddler.  Usher children away from school whilst hoping she has not left a mark.  Feel proud of self for not forgetting that we are bringing a friend home.

3.30pm – Load four children into car and drive the twelve minute journey home.

3.42pm – Arrive at home, remember state of kitchen and unload the children with a heavy heart.

3.50pm – Load dishwasher, turn Peppa Pig on, referee argument between twins, wipe down sides, stroke hamster, flush away someones poo in toilet, and boil water for pasta.

4.05pm – Prepare to feed four again, chop veg, slice fruit, puree tomatoes and call myself Delia when I think no one else is listening.

4.07pm – Think how well a G&T would go down at this point.

4.08pm – Consider doing dry through the week and get wet on the weekend January so I have something to look forward to tomorrow.

4.12pm – Open post, wipe down floor where children tracked in mud, pretend to be Luke Skywalker for five minutes and then pretend to be Mummy Pig whilst building a fire.

4.36pm – Open laptop, get drawn into facebook and twitter, start to write status update about how proud I am off the two girls when hear water boiling over on the cooker.

4.41pm – Wipe down cooker whilst reading story to twin boy.

4.44pm – Answer two emails re: work, heat the sauce.

5.02pm – Serve up a meal for four.

5.03pm – Coax twin girl to take blood sugar, 5.5; watch her inject 2 units of insulin as meal is 54 carbs.

5.04pm – Put needle in sharps box, pack meter away.

5.06pm – Clean up a meal for four.

6.03pm – Watch four children perform a show, part of me adores the play of childhood, the other side to me grimaces a little as this is my fourth ‘show’ this week and quite frankly I prefer musicals with pop stars in them.

6.18pm – Wave goodbye to playdate, remove twin boy from doorway where he is staging a silent protest refuses to let anyone pass so his friend can’t leave.

6.19pm – Apologise to friend’s mother for twin boy clinging to her legs and screaming ‘don’t take him, don’t take him.’

6.30pm – Bath all children, sit on the second toilet for a moment merely to catch breath.

6.45pm – Take twin girls blood sugar, 5.7, feel pleased that she is going to bed at a good level, apply ice to her arse, inject her long lasting insulin, apologise for the sting.

6.47pm – Put needle in sharps box, prepare three glasses of milk, two warm and one straight from the chiller.  Sigh (loudly).  Slice potatoes into chips and part boil.

7.14pm – Watch he who helped create them read a story, enjoy a moment of glow watching my family, the remember chips are now over boiled and dart to kitchen.

7.20pm – Tuck children into bed and leave them with a kiss.

7.22pm – He who helped create them tells me what a long day he has had.

7.26pm – Go to pour a cool glass of wine.

7.27pm – Remember it is dry january….

I dislike dry january!