The men in my life

Matt has been in hospital since Sunday and continues to wait for surgery. "It'll be done tonight" or, "you'll go first thing in the morning" are the promises coming from staff which are starting to sound repetitive (and just a smidge annoying). I submitted a complaint to the Patient Relations Department this morning around how he can be continuously put at the end of the theatre lists. Surely at some stage he would be a priority, if only by virtue of the fact that he's been there the longest? Private health cover is beginning to show its appeal. Wouldn't be so bad for Matt if they were letting him eat, drink or move about, but they have him imprisoned behind his pink curtains with nothing for nourishment but IV saline. Every twenty-four hours or so, when they're sure he's not going to be whisked away to theatre, he is provided with a meal (which he thinks is a strategy so that you don't realise how bad the food really is because you're just inhaling it to stop your stomach from digesting itself). And every hour he's there we're losing income. There are six orthopaedic surgeons in the unit, surely they can't all be test driving Porsches on the same day? Isn't one of them actually working? To add insult to injury, the whole procedure takes around forty-five minutes. C'mon...call one of them in from dinner, I dare you.

Through this experience I am getting a true taste of what it would be like to be a single parent. Hard. Slog.

Now to my other man. With Matt absent Quinn has insisted on confirming everything that is "daddy's". Repeatedly. Our days have included more than one inventory of Matt's side of the room with reassurance from me that yes, that is daddy's, and that is too, and yes, that as well, yes, all daddy's. Must be so confusing for him.

Quinn has recently developed an obsession with buses and trucks. Buses and trucks. Buses and trucks. Did I mention buses and trucks? We have a Fisher Price bus with flashing lights and a driver who, when pushed down on, activates the sound and music. Trouble is the music is only ever once (and about ten seconds) to about five statements from the driver. Statements such as "watch for the stop sign" "my bus has flashing lights". Which wouldn't be an issue if Quinn didn't have to have the music playing in order to 'drive' his bus. And what's worse, his whole world collapses every time the music stops and the man reverts to talking. Big tears roll down his face and he brings the bus to me saying "duck mumum" (duck is Quinn-speak for stuck). Sounds adorable, and it would be slightly more endearing for me if it didn't happen every thirty seconds. That bus is going to get 'lost' tomorrow.