I haven't posted for a while because now that voting for The MADs has closed, I feel like a tiny bit of pressure has been lifted. Like, I don't have to pimp myself quite so much any more.

Not that I WAS pimping myself, of course, I would uh, NEVER do such a thing...


There's been shit loads going, left right and centre, and my head is buzzing in both good ways and bad ways trying to deal with it all.

First and foremost, Noah's potty training is going BRILLIANTLY. In the space of a week, he now only has an accident if he's completely distracted or if I'm being rubbish and forget to ask in over a few hours. And even then, he'll still hold on to it until he's on the potty. I'm incredibly impressed he's pretty much done all this himself, from telling us when he wants to pee, through to holding onto it and getting himself on to the potty when he's ready. Yesterday we had no accidents.

Poop of course, is a different story, but come on! The kid's only 2 and it's early days.

We DID have fun with Mme HV this week however. Remember me hankering on about Noah's speech? And they're all "He's fine, stop your whining, it's too early blah blah mother fricking BLAH"? And everyone else is all "Yeah he'll speak, Einstein learnt to speak eventually didn't he?" And I pretty much told everyone to "shut the hell up?"


Turns out he's speech delayed.

In fact, the HV's words were "Good heavens, his speech really IS behind isn't it? I do hope you've got him under referral! In fact I definitely would refer him RIGHT now if he isn't. Have you sorted out a hearing test? Has he seen a therapist yet? This needs to be dealt with immediately."

I wanted to take one of Isaac's dirty nappies, mix it with one of my snot rags plastered with FOF and make her snort it until she could sing Yankee Doodle Dandy in the style of Gordon Brown.

He's approximately 6 - 12 months behind, which I can deal with I already knew this. Sadly, I feel kind of justified in my worrying. I didn't want this, OBVIOUSLY, but I feel a little more confident in knowing I wasn't talking out my arse. On the plus side, the barrage of tests showed that all his other skills are at the level of a three year old, with his visual and social interaction skills being equivalent to that of a 4 year old.

Still? Of course I know he'll be ok. I don't doubt (and never ever did doubt) that his speech will improve; the whole point of me being a pushy pain in the arse was so that I could HELP him improve. I knew something was not quite right, so I wanted to HELP him.

Plus? When he says something to me over and over again and I have NO CLUE what he's saying? And he's trying his bloody hardest to tell me something and is getting more and more worked up because I can't understand him and I'm getting more and more upset because he's getting worked up and because I'm failing to understand him? I NEEDED to push this.

However, D and I were rewarded for our bloody big efforts in getting Noah to eat more foods. Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone opened a door and a shit load of light shone through it. Right onto Noah eating food in a restaurant, for the first time ever.