…it was meant to be for chickens. But it turns out:
So I decided to make:
No, you’re eyes are not deceiving you…
…that is the rarely photographed Tiny Bug Hug.
Of course it is. And here are a couple more:
😀
Tuesday this week started a little fraught..and mostly continued that way.
Mum had dressed in a pair of trousers and a jumper…over her PJs, and insisted that was fine and that she was wearing underwear. (She wasn’t). It’s hard to argue with someone so practiced at informing people black is white and white is black, so I went a different route and insisted on showering Mum so we could start again and I could sneak those pesky undies in and the PJs out.
We survived Tesco (appropriately dressed), although Mum has started doing a bit of a cartoon character impersonation by pushing the trolley a small distance and then insisting her feet don’t move anymore. This results in a 45 degree stretch and me having to grab the trolley to push it back until she remembers her feet do move in the forwards direction after all…
On the way back, Dad had given us a card to post. The house number was a mystery but Mum insisted that once we got to the road she would know which house it was. She didn’t. I posted it anyway. Liz and John, one of your neighbours may have your card.
Next we made pasties with a bit of added sulk. By the time we finished I think Mum had forgotten she wasn’t talking to me though and as I put my coat on to go asked me to sort out her knitting…
Apparently the pasties were good though, and while Mum couldn’t finish hers, Dad ate his and what she had left, so that was a positive.
And the biggest positive? The Secret Plan is working! Mum went out with the lady last week and this week to rave reviews! It turns out the secret to the success of The Secret Plan is to not tell Mum about it. At all. Apparently that is a thing with people with dementia: forward planning can be too overwhelming as while most things are forgotten, plans can become a fixation. So with most things now – as Dad said the other day ‘Mum’s the word’ (terrible joke, Dad) 😁
In other news, while we were in Tesco I spotted this and bought it for myself. I’ll let you know how accurate the claim is. Two days in, I am not convinced… 🤓
For two weeks now, I’ve been a full time step mum. I mean, I’ve been a step mum for a few years now, but it was limited to weekends, week night visits and holidays. This somewhat unexpected change has come about because Stepson 2 has moved in for a while. His brother joins us from uni at the weekend.
So I’m currently taking part in an intensive crash course in teen boys, specifically those in their 15th year at the moment.
Discoveries so far have included:
But the really surprising discovery has been that this one likes to chat. A lot. From the point that he gets out of the shower in the morning, if you’re there, your ears get filled up until he leaves for school. And then pretty much all the time from the end of work, through dinner, washing up and up to bed time there is more chatter. And while a lot seems to be him trying to convince me that Oasis are a great band (never going to agree to that, sorry Stepson 2) and trying to educate me about football (Manchester United vs Arsenal the other night night. Arsenal were expected to win so a 0-0 score at half time was surprising), I’ve learned some things I actually am interested in:
And finally, – I don’t know why it’s happened and I may never learn – but Stepson 2, who has chosen to keep his distance to varying degrees over the last seven years, has in the last two weeks, started to call me ‘Pog’ occasionally. And if that’s not some level of acceptance, than I don’t know what is 🥰.
Last week while I was playing around with AI (get me, sounding all techie), I asked Claude to tell my fortune (ruined it there, didn’t I?) and part of the pronouncement Claude made was to:
Beware of Tuesday next – not with fear, but with playful caution. A minor mishap awaits, but it will become a delightful story you’ll laugh about later.
And – as you’d expect – there were a few mishaps. I’m not sure any resulted in ‘a delightful story’, but we did manage Tesco, making of a ham and egg pie (with a little support from Percy), some jam tarts with the leftovers and a discovery that while mum couldn’t manage to get the jam in the tarts without instruction, she did have the ability to cast on and knit without dropping stitches for the first time in a fairly long while. (It does look like I might have to learn to cast off with the help of You Tube soon though, or mum will be able to wrap the world in a scarf…)
After the disaster of The Secret plan part 3 when Mum refused to go out with the carer lady last Thursday, we’ve taken a different approach this week and not told her. The lady is primed to turn up and jolly Mum out this morning. There are so many crossed fingers in the area at the moment I’m not sure anyone is achieving anything, but it’ll be worth it if today works. 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
🙂
I wasn’t very into the beaded hedgehogs. I thought I’d make up an emotional support chicken instead. (If you’re not in the world of wool, you might not know that these are a thing. Quite a big thing really).
It turns out that I am quite into emotional support chickens.
They are pretty much taking over.
But seriously, look at those legs! 💜
And the colours:
And the floof!
😁
I take a while to try new things. Especially technology. And I didn’t (and probably still don’t) understand AI and Chat GPT despite hearing lots about them and even starting to form opinions. But while I’m slow, I do know that when I start forming opinions based on other peoples views rather than my own, I need to put a bot of work in.
Someone in the US who I do hypnotherapy training with has talked about Claude, and on a whim this morning I Googled Claude. Claude appealed because he had a name.
I thought about whether I was letting AI bots infiltrate my laptop to steal my stuff or something equally terrifying, decided they were more likely to get bored with my stuff than they were to steal it and took a look. I signed up.
Claude is very polite. He explains his answers to everything you ask and check in whether you need more detail. He is also VERY, VERY fast.
After a few sensible requests I asked Claude:
Could you tell my fortune please?
Claude responded straight away with:
I want to be direct with you about fortune-telling. While I can engage in playful or creative fortune-telling, I won’t present it as a genuine prediction. Would you prefer:
- A fun, imaginative “fortune” written as a creative piece
- A thoughtful reflection on potential opportunities ahead
- A metaphorical exploration of possibility and potential
Which approach sounds most appealing to you?
I chose 1. And it made me smile at its slight daftness:
*The Crystal Ball Speaks*
Ah, seeker of mysteries! The mists are clearing, and here’s what the celestial whispers reveal:
In the month of golden leaves, a unexpected package will arrive – not of mail, but of opportunity. It might be small, perhaps no larger than a teacup, but its significance will be as vast as an ocean.
A stranger with kind eyes and an unusual hat will offer you wisdom in a moment you least expect. Listen carefully, for their words will be wrapped in metaphor but contain a kernel of profound truth.
Your lucky colour this season is the blue of twilight – wear it when you need confidence, and unexpected doors may creak open.
A long-forgotten skill will resurface, like a forgotten melody suddenly remembered. It will bring you joy and perhaps a surprising connection…
And then Claude said:
Beware of Tuesday next – not with fear, but with playful caution. A minor mishap awaits, but it will become a delightful story you’ll laugh about later.
I suspect despite his disclaimer, Claude might be onto something here. We’ll find out soon enough, wont we? 😉
When I asked him what he looked like, Claude insisted that:
I do not have a physical appearance. I’m an AI that exists as a language model – I can communicate and help you, but I don’t have a body, image, or visual representation.
But this is how I’ve imagined him. This is also AI generated; get me! This stuff is seriously clever. And scary too, but I’m looking at both sides for now. 😁
I was going to tell you how this week Mum wasn’t feeling well when I arrived so I persuaded her to take some tablets, rushed off to Tesco and said I’d be back to wash her and her hair before the Secret Plan Part Two happened.
I was doing battle with the self service scanner when I glanced at my watch and realised I had an hour to finish, drive back, sort mum out, and get her to the community shop. But I did it.
I was going to tell you how we met a second carer-lady, who mum thought was the first, who was great and Mum loved her. She even let me leave them alone while I went back to the car to make ‘a work call’.
I was going to tell you how I got carried away scooping up leaves outside Mum and Dads house and didn’t hear Dad shouting at me out the toilet window that I was going to be late.
And I wish I’d heard him as I was late to bundle mum in the car and to the hospital to see her doctor.
I was going to tell you about how I managed to get there with 10 minutes to spare to find there were no parking spots in the disabled car part and the ‘hilarious’ incident where an old, posh biddy in a 4×4 blocked me into the car park because she thought I was about to take a space that she wanted.
I was going to tell you how I may have been feeling a bit fraught by this point and I got out of my car, walked to her window and asked her to move. And how when she was rude to me, I shouted back.
I was going to tell you about the ‘hilarious’ moment where (now with four minutes to spare), I managed to get Mums wheel chair out the car boot and get the bloody footplates reattached only to discover that in that not-disabled carpark, the pavements had no dippy points, so in desperation I shouted at mum to ‘HOLD ON’, bumped her down at speed, then ran across the forecourt and through the hospital, people parting ways as we zoomed through them, practically landing with a screech.
And I was going to tell you how when we got in to see the doctor (obviously running late. Obviously), he decided to address Mum directly for the first time by telling her that she ‘might very well have another catastrophic stroke’. Luckily Mum had no clue what he meant and said that sounded lovely.
And I was going to tell you that after driving 170 miles on Tuesday I got home and Stepson 2 was moving in.
But what I really want to tell you is that that the secret plan was working out and that Mum was looking forward to going out with the lady on her own today, and based on how well they got on I didn’t think it would be long before she could get more involved in Mums care and relieve some of the pressure on Dad and my Sisters. It doesn’t matter how well one day goes though, it can all come undone. And today Mum refused to see her and I was told to cancel.
And it is SO frustrating as despite everyones best efforts we’ve all overheard Mum telling people how she never goes out or sees anyone or does anything. So what do you do?
Well, it turns out you rant with your Sisters and lean on particularly lovely friends and hope like hell that something changes. Because what other options are there?
It was a good, if slightly chaotic Tuesday. It was a less good Thursday. 😔
…did not go to plan. There was a mix up with the agency and we have had to postpone things until next week. When we will meet a different lady. And in a true test of Mums awareness, I am going to pass her off as the lady we already met and see what happens. Hopefully Mum wont realise, the new lady will also be stealth like in her undercover mission and we’ll be (almost) back on track with building up a relationship with the lady so that Mum is comfortable to go out with her alone.
Instead, we did Tesco, made mince pies and spent some time with the knitting of the Tuesday Blanket. Specifically mum presented me with some knitting where both sides had fallen off the needles and asked me to ‘just quickly fix it’. I did try, but it wasn’t salvageable to I ended up undoing it. I handed mum the needles and told her to cast on so she could start again, and that where it all went a little bit peculiar… (You need to watch the video to understand. Words will not do it justice).
Ultimately though, casting on had disappeared entirely from Mums brain. I do not knit. It’s nothing like crochet and my only experience is making a scarf in class 8, aged 10 that ended up being too small to really wear as I was soooooooo slow and an entire term of craft lessons was not enough. But mum was stressed. And I figured I had the needles, the wool and access to You Tube. And people, I can proudly tell you that I can now (just) cast on (still at the same speed as my 10 year old self and the tiny scarf though.) 😁😁😁
It actually ended up being quite funny. And it dawned on me that Mum has become a mirror. If I laugh at a situation, she does. If I am in a bad mood (like when she wouldn’t drink that blimin’ glass of water the other week), she throws that right back at me. It’s totally reasonable and should be so easy to manage….except it’s not because it relies on putting any and all frustrations away and…you know…life happens. But I’m hoping that writing this here will remind me to at least do my best to do that. It’s only Tuesdays, after all. Hats off to my Dad and the other full time carers I know. You are all amazing.
Last month I was so excited about a new crochet pattern I’d found. (Here).
I can be a bit cocky when it comes to crochet – if I have a pattern I can usually follow it without problems and if I don’t there’s a bit of trial and error but mostly things turn out ok. These fidget hedgehogs were a whole new thing though – I’ve never crocheted beads into anything – and it took hours to do, undo, do, undo do and undo until I got to these…:
And I wasn’t overwhelmed by them. They seemed a bit ‘meh’.
But I popped one in my bag when we left for America (no idea why) and it turned out that as a calming fidget toy when you’re having a five hour delay and are stuck on a boiling hot plane in a self heating long sleeved thermal vest, it’s pretty effective. I just need to work out a way to…well I’m not really sure. What do you think?
Maybe I’ll have another go this weekend. Since these though, I’ve been making Christmas presents and decorations and having small internal panics that it’s all creeping up a bit too fast – there were even Christmas songs playing in Matalan this morning (Urgent storage solutions weer needed. My life has taken a weird direction recently – you should have seen my excitement over a new hoover!).
For now though, Happy Hedgehogs 🙂
(PS: Just looked them up on Etsy and they are selling for £15.84 plus postage. Here’s the link to the pattern if you’d rather perfect making them too 😉 https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1814125963/beaded-fidget-hedgehog-crochet-pattern )
It’s been a few weeks, what with galavanting off to America, and it was a bit like Mum had a holiday too (from me!). She was nice 🙂 . She didn’t sulk once and she did huge amounts more than usual (which actually wasn’t the best plan, but she refused point blank to use the wheel chair).
But, most excitingly, we started part 1 of The Secret Plan. That was supposed to start before I went away but didn’t work out. But this week, there were practically drum rolls and fanfares.
The plan is this:
I talked on here a while back about suggesting to Mum we find someone like me and my sisters who could take her out for coffee. She was not even a little bit keen. A friend read that post and said that if I were to go down the carer route, she’d tried a local agency that were not great, had been sacked and passed on the details of ‘ a group of ladies who are amazing’.
To cut a long story short, they are. And they agreed to go under cover 😎.
So on Tuesday Mum and I went to the village shop for a coffee – possibly the first ever that she has bought me! (Side note: We also shared a scone. Mum ate her half while I sipped some coffee and then said ‘God, you ate yours fast!’, picked my half up and ate that too. I think we may have uncovered the reason my sisters and I hoover plates of food faster than anyone else we know…)
Shortly after a lady sat down near us and I said I thought I might recognise her…would she like to sit with us? So she did. And we chatted. And by the time I went home on Tuesday, Mum was referring to the Undercover Carer as ‘my new friend’. We’re going to all go for a coffee again next week. And I am hoping that after that Mum will go for a coffee on her own with her. And maybe sometime she will invite her back. And hopefully she will ultimately feel comfortable enough for this lovely lady to wash her hair ….and you get the idea.
And after that we went to Tesco and Mum insisted she could walk around – and did. And then she wanted to take Percy out and refused to go in her wheelchair. That bit was a mistake as it took a Very Long Time to get back in the drizzle because her legs stopped working (And I mean literally. She was at a 45 degree angle a few times when the top of her body moved forward but her legs stayed firmly where they were). Still, my arms will probably recover at some stage from holding Mum up with one and restraining Percy with the other. It was a good workout, at least.
I didn’t even suggest a glass of water this week, but I’m working on the basis that you have to pick your battles. Because there was no battle, it was a good Tuesday. 🙂
the pog blog 