We have a plan (I have an overwhelming urge to say Batman after that, but have resisted the temptation in order to maintain at least a visage of sanity at this juncture of our incarceration). To catch you up since our last entry we have excelled at defining the 'quo' in status. We have tried
I've come here a few times to update since last week and then, like a teenager refusing to acknowledge that there is life outside the duvet, thought better of it and disappeared back under the covers. Not, of course, because I have any type of warm, cocooned feeling from our hospital room that I'm reluctant
there will be some respite this coming week from OPC (Other People’s Children). For people who haven’t encountered OPC in a hospital, imagine the most precocious, insistent, nosey, slightly unwashed looking, is there something crawling in their hair kind of child who has a habit of grabbing whatever your child’s favourite toy is and skipping merrily out of the room with a sweet smile on their face. Of course, selfishly the OPC serves a great purpose when your other children are around as it’s an instant friend for them to disappear into the playroom with. However the OPC doesn’t limit their presence to convenient hours in which your children are present and wanting to be amused, they want to be your best friend too. The OPC thinks you want nothing more than their company, even if your door is shut and you’ve wedged a chair behind it.