‘Thechildrengetfancycupcakesfrom granny ... we got an orange or a biscuit’
chocolate biscuit. No offence, but Penguins weren’t my favourite in the biscuit stakes.
My children get fancy cupcakes and an array of treats and delicacies any pastry chef would be proud to serve.
We’re obviously so much more aware of childhood obesity these days, so while my parents treat them, Mum’s also on at me to provide plenty of fresh fruit, organic vegetables, fish and the like.
That’s all fine with my daughters but, alas, my son only likes beige food at the moment — nuggets, chips, pasta and the slightly more ‘exotic’ pizza. I’m told he’ll grow out of it (and apparently grinding my teeth and pulling my hair out won’t expedite that result).
When my husband Jonathan and I go out in Belfast on a Saturday night, we all stay at my Mum and Dad’s.
I always laugh at how tired the kids are on a Sunday because I know my folks have been enjoying their company so much that they let them stay up late. They love sleepovers at Granny’s.
This time of the year is obviously insanely exciting and the children are dying to open a present from under the tree. As I bark “No wayyyy” Mum will say ‘Would you not let them open one?’.
We would have lost a digit had we moved one of the presents under the tree.
Everyone had a wee poke at the paper, of course, but it was on pain of death if you actually opened one early, besides the mandatory new jammies on Christmas Eve.
Mum paints with them, reads to them and plays with them at length (which I must admit, we had the joy of experiencing as kids too).
Dad reads to them, takes them out to the garden to feed the fish or to help him pick his homegrown tomatoes and is always recording kids’ movies or programmes he thinks they’d like. Granny and Grumps could tell you the names of every kiddies show on TV.
We’re all very spoilt and this period of our lives makes me feel so damn lucky.
I think both my folks need a wee ‘fix’ of the kids as often as possible. I couldn’t ask for better grandparents for them.”
As the festive season continues we are beginning to see so many colourful Christmas trees sprouting up in our homes, shopping centres and town centres — that is if you can see them through the snow!
This week we got the chance to celebrate a very special tree which has huge significance to the organ donation family in Northern Ireland. No, it’s not the Dobson family Christmas tree, which is twinkling away brightly as I write this week’s column in our family room, it’s the Erskine House Tree which has just been crowned Northern Ireland’s Woodland Trust Tree of the Year.
Back in October I was writing about this very special tree and the over 50 year links it has with promoting organ donation, embodying our global kidney links and inspiring the next generation of medical professionals. A special tree indeed and very fitting that it now holds the crown of Northern Ireland’s top tree this year, a richly deserved accolade voted for by you, the public.
Thank you to everyone who took part in what was a wonderful joint campaign between Queen’s University and the Belfast Trust and to everyone who voted in huge numbers to ensure it came out on top — Mum and I were so honoured to be part of the team.
Another important Christmas tradition, just as traditional as our trees, is preparing and writing our lists to Santa. This
Mark writes:
is something I have done for many years but maybe a little differently to most people.
While I know many children, and quite a few adults, who happily flick through the Argos catalogue or search through endless online shops to find those perfect Christmas gifts, my list to Santa has never changed and, as always, includes just one entry.
Each year I ask Santa to help encourage more and more people to learn about organ donation and how they can become willing donors — to speak with their loved ones and to become a life-saver. Organ donation is the ultimate gift — a gift which enhances the lives of transplant recipients and enriches the lives of their families.
As in my case when I received my first kidney transplant back in 2009; when the gift of a transplant comes at a time of unimaginable grief for the family of the donor, it enables someone else to live on. Organ donors are the heroes of the organ donation family because they choose to become life-savers — they mean the world to us because they, like every transplant patient on a waiting list, understand firsthand the scarcity of organ donations.
They say you can never have too much of a good thing but until last week I really wasn’t convinced that applied to my routine dialysis sessions.
However, as I am still having some complications with my HD line, the connection in my neck through which I get my dialysis, I ended up in Daisy Hill for four days rather than my usual three.
Each week I have three fourhour sessions of dialysis on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to keep me healthy, but as I have been experiencing some difficulties I had to make the journey to Newry on Tuesday for an extra session.
However, I was in my usual ward and under the care of the staff, including Ursula and Michelle — who probably see a little too much of me for their own good.
I know I keep talking about all the fantastic renal nurses who look after me while I am under their care but they really do everything to make sure that all the patients are in the best care and comfort while we undergo dialysis.
Well, that’s it for this week. I’m hoping for a smoother run of dialysis sessions next week which will mean much less bleeping from my machine — it’s sounding so regularly at the moment that it’s even beginning to sound like a Christmas tune.
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