Van bakboord na stuurboord

The title translates to From port to starboard. It's a saying in my hometongue when you get send from one person to the next to the next to the next, without resolving the issue at hand. Well, that's precisely how I feel at this moment. From GP to Pead to Cardiologist to ENT....

So yes, that's our next step. The Ear, Nose and throat specialist. :-( Four specialists in little more than a week. FUN (not). So, the pediatric cardiologist couldn't find anything wrong either. Good news is, his heart is structurally perfect!! No deformities, valves working perfectly, etc. Yay!!!

The bad news is, something probably is up, because his heart is slightly enlarged on the right side, and it beats too hard. But it's not caused by the heart itself, it's something else causing it. The area where it is enlarged, points to a chest/throat/sinus problem. She ruled out the lungs, no asthma or anything. So that leaves throat/sinus. Hence, the ENT next. He has to see if he can find the underlying cause, maybe like an anatomical deformity in the nose area. If not, then a sleep study overnight will be the next step.

Ag, this is just getting so frustrating. When can we have an issue with the kids that's just straightforward and easy to diagnose?! Does all parents go through this type of thing? Why do I feel so alone in this then? Even Mr N remarked on the way home that it's strange that we have 3 older kids, and one after the other we're finding something "wrong" with each one. And everytime they were age 5...

It was a long, long day. I stood up early to take Monkeyman to school, and he was having none of that. Just wanted to sit. I coached him and eventually we left the house an hour later. Got back, put baby to sleep. Gave her lunch after her nap, cleaned the house, fetched Monkeyman and gave him a bath and washed his hair. Then gave him lunch. Pack the nappybag and put the kids in the car. Fetched Mr N and Boeboe from tennis (they had it directly after school). Drove directly to the hospital where the appointment was quite long with the sonar and EKG. Fortunately, they put a nice movie on for Mr N and Boeboe, so we only had to deal with a (very tired) baby and Monkeyman. By the time we got home, it was after 6pm and dark and cold. And the minute Monkeyman stepped inside, he said he's nauseous. I took him to the bathroom where he promptly threw up (in the loo fortunately). He lied down on his couch, and perked up later and haven't vomitted again. Not sure what's going on?!

So ya, eventful and LONG day. Thank goodness it's weekend. I'm in desperate need of sleep (Peanut's cutting her top teeth), relaxation and distraction. I'm taking the kids shopping for winter clothes tomorrow and on Sunday we're celebrating Mothersday. I'm hoping for a day where I don't need to do much. But with a baby in the house, I doubt if that'll pan out this year, LOL.

And here we go again

This one isn't about Boeboe. Yes, I know, I should update on her again. But today, my mind is filled with my little boy. Sometimes, I marvel at the fact that I could love him SO very much, when I already loved 2 other children around the moon and back. How come a parent's heart can expand to fit in all of this love?

He's 5 now, and becoming a real little boy! (I once asked my friend, "as opposed to what, a wooden doll?" when she said this of her boy, hahahaha.) Maybe it's an age thing. But he's so much more into boy games now. One day a few weeks ago, Boeboe came running in from outside crying. Apparently, she and Monkeyman was playing, when Mr N decided to go kick a ball outside. And Monkeyman dropped his sister like a hot potato to rather kick the ball with Mr N. She felt cheated and done in. So I tried to explain to her that Monkeyman is a boy, and boys like to play boys games. She was very affronted, and told me "But mommy, we were playing a game that were for boys AND girls! We were pretending to be baby birds!!!!" She honestly couldn't grasped that that isn't the type of game boys are usually into...hahahahaha. Ah well, at least I've succeeded in not putting my kids into little gender boxes (too much)!

So ya, Monkeyman now likes boy-things. Kicking ball, playing tennis, sword-games and screaming pow pow while pointing a non-existing gun in the hand at an invisible alien. So much imagination, little boys!!

So what does my heading have to do with any of this? Well, we're on the diagnostic road again. :-( Can you believe that? Honestly, I think the doctors are going to start labelling us as munchausen-by-proxy parents! Someone who would hurt their own child to get the attention of medical professionals. Ha! Who on earth would LIKE this road? I just can't understand that. Anyhoo, that's beside the point now. We're looking for another diagnoses. This time, in Monkeyman. It's just fair you see. Mr N has the epilepsy, and had all the attention from his parents for months during that time he was diagnosed and put on medication. Then Boeboe came along and had our focus and attention for years with the tethered cord. So now it's monkeyman's turn!

:(

Seriously though, I try to see the humour, but I'm tired. I don't want to do this. I don't want to worry about another child, another diagnoses, another long road. Honestly, I don't think I'm up to it again. Sniff sniff. They say God doesn't give you anything you can't handle. How come God thinks I'm so friggen strong when I'm NOT?

Well, as you know, if you've frequented this blog (or know us) I've always complained about Monkeyman's odd tiredness. Even as a baby, he'd crawl around for a while, laughing, playing, and then suddenly, just press his face down on the carpet or his blanket or my feet, and just lay his little body down. Not sleeping, not closing his eyes, just as if his whole body was tired (not sleepy). Or the way he would, out of the blue, stopped playing as a toddler, and just go lie down on the couch. He decided on one couch, and I swear, half of his awake time in his life has been spent on that couch. :-( Of course I sometimes wondered if it was because of the tv, or laziness, or being spoilt. Countless times though, I would switch the tv off the moment he starts playing in the morning (or never put in on) and check him. Without fail, he would play about 30-60 min (age 1-3), then go lie down with his blanket. Even when he had nothing to watch, nothing to do, he would just lie down and clutch his blankie. He would play with his fingers, humm to himself, scratch his head, play with his blankie, etc. Or sometimes He'd fetch a little car and just lie on the couch pushing his little car. It sometimes really broke my heart, seeing him like that. All quiet and tired. In time (and I'm literally talking about months/years) I caved and indulged him more with tv at those times. Letting him play, then when he's bushed, let him watch a movie with the request that when the movie is done, he needs to play again. It usually worked well.

What also convinced me in those days that he wasn't faking, was that even when he missed his Boeboe all day while she's at school, he'd still only play about 30-60min with her when she gets home. Then, doesn't matter how much fun he seemed to be having, he would go lie down. Frustrating Boeboe because she wasn't done with the game. Even when other friends visited, Monkeyman would only play a while, then goes to have a lie-down. I remember him "playing" from the couch while other kids tried to entice him off it. He would lie there, laughing with them, using his arms and legs, but keeping his body horisontal. Just for a while, almost like he had batteries that needed recharging. Then he'd jump up and played again. For another hour. Sometimes like with a birthday party when it's chaos and so many visitors, he would push himself. The moment the last child is gone, he would crash. Literally. The rest of the day he would spent on that couch. Unable and unwilling to do anything more than lying down. Sometimes he would fall asleep and wake up a bit better, but since age 3 he dropped his afternoon nap and it rarely happenend thereafter again.

Writing it out like this, it makes me feel guilty, for not pushing this more. It really does sound weird for a 2 or 3-year old little boy, doesn't it? I remember speaking to other parents, who complained that their boys are just non-stop. They run and plays all day long, non-stop. They thought Monkeyman very very weird. I couldn't blame them! Mr N wasn't hyperactive or even close to it, but even he was totally the opposite to Monkeyman at that age. So yes, why didn't I do more? I don't know. Since I noticed this (around age 1 I'd guess??), I asked about it at every pead check, every GP visit, every dr I've seen with him. He wasn't ill much, so this wasn't many times. But still, I never failed to ask about this every time I saw a dr with him. Age 2.5 years, I told my husband I'm worried, so I took him with when I had to take Boeboe to the pead. She listened to his heart and gave him a thorough checkup. And sent him off for some bloodtests (glucose, thyroid, iron, whiteblood count, etc.). It all came back normal, except for low seratonin that could point to low iron, though his iron count was normal. So he got 3 months of iron supplementation. It didn't help much. Not at all for the day, and only a tiny, tiny bit maybe for his night wakings (which only stopped long after age 3).

Over the years, it has become much less noticeble, and after the pead told us they could find nothing wrong when he was almost 3, I just accepted him as being unique. It did, afterall, fit in with his whole personality. The reserved, quiet, calm, contend, sweet little thing that he is. Both his dad and his grandpa was the same. Always tired as children. So I thought ah well, must be a family thing. Strange to me, but normal to them, iykwim?

A few weeks ago though, he was sitting on the couch playing something (think it was iPad), when he stood up to look for me in the kitchen. He told me that his heart is beating really fast. I was busy and barely registered what he's saying. Just nodding my head and said Oh? So off he went, happy that mom wasn't worried. A few days later though, the same thing happened. This time, I measured his pulse. It was 98, which didn't register to me as being really high (though I had no experience or knowledge on how high it should be). But what I found strange, was that again, he wasn't doing any excerzises. And his heart was beating so rapidly, that I could feel and see it being in overdrive. His shirt was moving slightly from the beating. I was mildly concerned, but then forgot about it again. Until beginning last week, while we were all watching tv as a family one evening. He felt it again, and this time it measured 102. I told my husband about the previous 2 episodes, and he looked a bit concerned. So I told him that maybe I should just take him for a checkup at the GP (general practitioner - medical doctor).

The dr told me that he'll probably going to have to refer us to a pediatric cardiologist. For the first time, I realised that this might not be nothing. I guess I was in denial, because I really, really can't face this road again. The road of not knowing what's up with your child. The road where you know something's wrong, but you don't know what it is. How dangerous or life threatening it is. Or how long it will be until you know. What procedures your child will need to go through before you know. And what and when the end of the road will be. We've been through it twice, with both the older kids. We couldn't face it again.

So ya, I got a little scared when the dr mentioned "cardiologist". I know I know, it's way too early to stress. It's most definitely putting the cart before the horses. Just silly. But when you've been through this before, you can't help but worry. With Mr N, I thought - ag, what's the chance that it is anything really? I'm probably making a whole mountain of a tiny heap of sand. I wasn't even sure if I should take him to a dr!! And then, it turned out to be something big. With Boeboe, I thought, what makes us so special that we'd have TWO children with abnormalities. Chances are so much better that she's just fine. Nothing wrong with her. Well, look how that turned out! She was so special, she's probably the only child in our whole country (of 50+ million people) who got an occult tethered cord that couldn't even be visualised during the untethering operation.

So ya, what makes us so special that our 3rd child would also have abnormalities?!?! This is just too much.

Anyhoo, the dr measured Monkeyman's heartrate with this nifty little gadget. He clips it on the finger, and it has a little screen on which the pulserate shows digitally. It was a bit erratic though, and quite fast. It were something like 106, 98, 89, 102, 90, 99, 80, 95, 105. Etc. And it only went to 80 once. Most of the time it was in the 90's and a few over the 100's. The dr listened a long while to his chest and lungs, and could hear his heart going faster through the stetoscope. He didn't like hearing that, I could see it on his face. BUT, as awfully concerning as all of this sounds now, I didn't get the idea that the dr is really stressed out about anything. Just mildly worried, concerned. He said that something's up, and we need to go back to the pead. I guess because Monkeyman's heart was still beating rythmically, not arythmically, he changed his mind about the cardiologist. He wanted the pead to do some bloodtests to see if it could be a systemic disease that caused his heart to go faster even when the child wasn't running around. Together with his history of always being physically tired, and having legpains, the dr thought something must be up.

So off we went, back to the pead. She wasn't concerned when I started speaking, and mentioned some of it as normal (sinus arrythmia). But then she read the sealed note the GP send her (I was sooooo curious and desperately wanted to open it, but felt too guilty) and you could see her mind started ticking over. She frowned and slowly tucked the note into Monkeyman's folder, very deeply in thought. Then declared that we'd probably need to send him to a cardiologist. You can imagine how much I wish I read that letter when I had the chance!!

Anyway, so she did the physical, and said that she really can't hear any murmur or rushing sound on his heart. It all sounds normal. She asked us about family history, and then said that having heart palpitations like Monkeyman had, where you can feel your heartbeat going faster/harder that it stops you in your tracks, isn't normal and needs checking out. She mentioned that his mitral valve might not be closing properly. So yeah, this is why I said "And here we go again". Because we've now been referred onto the next specialist (pediatric cardiologist). Fortunately, we got an appointment quickly, we're going tomorrow. It sounds like it would involve a number of tests (EKG and sonar).

I'm grateful the pead doesn't believe it's his thyroid or diabetes or anything like that. But I'm scared that she thinks it might be his heart. I know, lots of children/adults have mild heart problems. But when it's your own child, and you don't know what it is yet, you can't help but worry. Especially since his grandpa was similar as a child. And then, when he was around age 30, he needed massive open heart surgery where a valve was replaced with a mechanical valve. As long as I've known PIL, my FIL had always taken medication for his heart, and it needs to be very, very carefully monitored. His bloodlevels can't be too thick or too thin, so bloodtests every couple of months year after year after year after year... He can't take any medication, not even over the counter, without asking his doctors first, because it might have an influence on his bloodlevels. He always needs to be careful, always think about his heart, and his wife is always so worried about him. The first time I met him, he told me if I could hear that tick. It was a loud, metallic clicking sound. Yes, that's the valve! I was amazed, it was louder than a watch or alarmclock.

They believe (never comfirmed) that he might've had rheumatic fever as a child, that caused the problems to the valve. But what if it isn't? What if it's genetic? Or, what if the same happened to Monkeyman when he got scarlet fever age 10 months? He was so so so ill, I thought that night that we're going to loose him. Yes, he got peniccillen, so chances of getting rheumatic fever was slim, and wouldn't I have noticed it? I watched him like a hawk, didn't I?

So ya, put that history plus Monkeyman's tiredness plus a couple of drs mildly worried together with being referred to a heart specialist, and you have one worried mommy. :-(

Two years ago...

Yesterday, 2 years ago, Boeboe was operated on for her occult tethered cord. Since Saturday, I've been having flashbacks and I'm surprised that it still hurts so much 2 years later. You'd think that after all we've been through, how much we gained because of the operation, that I'd see it as a good thing. That I'd remember it fondly and with happiness and gratefulness.

But I can't. I remember holding my little girl down screaming in terror while they did some tests on her. I remember her having anaesthesia for the umpteenth time, scared out of her mind. Once they gave her dormicum to calm her down and make her sleepy. It made her high! She was so funny.

I remember sitting in front of the PC (before I had a laptop), in the freezing cold, 1am in the morning, blanket wrapped around me, my hands blocks of ice. Reading up on tethered cords and people's experiences with it. Night after night after night. Wanting nothing more than to find a way to help get my daughter diagnosed.

I remember contemplating selling our car, so that we could afford tickets to America so that we can see a specialist there. I remember crying desperately, wishing my mom was still alive. Because I didn't know how to get through it all without her. I remember sitting in one doctor's office, looking at his eyes filled with tears, refusing to cry with him, when he begged me not to let anyone cut my baby open. I remember looking at my daughter with such pride when she laid completely still for the MRI. Apparently, the technician has never had a child that young, lay that still, for that long.

I remember a doctor looking me in the eye, telling me that both me and my daughter are lying. I remember looking back, in his eyes, telling him we're not. And for him to discard that as easily as I did when my daughter was 4. I remember this same doctor eating his own words when he saw her test results. It made me feel empty, not happy as I thought it would. Because I'd rather he was right.

I remember my daughter saying No no no no when they gassed her for the operation. I remember sitting in the waiting room. Another waiting room. So many, many waiting rooms. They're all the same. Cold. Empty.

I remember forcing myself to eat while they cut her open in theatre. To drink. Eyeing where the nearest bathroom is, because I thought I'm going to vomit. I remember my surprise and relief when they wheeled her back from theatre, and she wasn't just okay, she was wide awake and alert. I remember my elation when she asked me what's around her big toe. We were so scared that she'd loose feeling in her legs. I remember the moment she said her head hurts. The way my stomach dropped in my feet. It was the one thing I didn't want her to go through. I had experienced epidural migraines. I couldn't face thinking my baby had to go through that.

I remember her being violently ill. I remember our panic when the nurse couldn't get hold of the doctor. I remember the pastor coming into the room. He brought peace with him. I remember knowing that now she'll be alright, once he prayed for her. And she was.

I remember the days and nights spent on that awful chair next to her bed. I remember feeling guilty for not playing with her more. For not entertaining her every second. But I was in robot-mode. I could barely keep it together for myself. I had nothing more to give after days and days. I remember seeing my sister walk into the hospital room, and the lightness she brought. I remember her contagious happiness. I remember the way she got my daughter to stand and walk for the first time days after the operation.

I remember how Monkeyman missed his sister. I remember how even Mr N admitted to missing Boeboe. I remember how happy they were when they were at the hospital. As if their world were complete. I remember trying to play ball with them at home one afternoon. Laughing, joking, teasing them, being happy. I remember it all being fake. I remember the tears in my eyes they didn't notice. I remember the pain in my heart they knew nothing about.

I remember my daughter being in so much pain, that she didn't move an inch for 72 hours. I remember the bedsores on her back, bum, heels. I remember how it hurt when they had to turn her around to rub them. I remember how she screamed when they had to take the IV out. I remember my daughter being so scared and alone in the ICU bed on that first night. I remember saying goodbye to her. I remember walking out of the hospital, leaving her alone there. Exactly as I did when she was a tiny new born in NICU. I remember feeling exactly as guilty.

I remember too much. I can't isolate the hurt and pain, from the happiness and elation. I remember the relief when her symptoms lessened after the operation. I remember the elation when she walked that first time. I remember the stress falling away while walking to the car, my daughter being pushed in the wheelchair. I remember walking into the house with her, 9 days after we left it together. I remember it all. Every emotion. Every feeling. It's too much. Two years down the line, and it's still too much. So yes, I remembered it all this past weekend, on the 2 year anniversary. But it still hurts. I wonder how long will it keep on hurting?

Life as a SAHM with four children

For those that doesn't frequent forums, SAHM means Stay at Home Mom. So yeah, that's what I am. Apparently it's not politically correct in English speaking countries to say "Full time mommy" which is the direct translation of my job in my home tongue "voltydse mamma". Full time mommy apparently implies that someone that might be working, isn't a full time mommy. (Geez, but people are sensitive! But that's a story for another day.) So yeah, I'm a SAHM, as opposed to a Working Mommy, or WAHM meaning Working from Home Mom. I just wondered...if Full time mommy implies a working mommy isn't a full time mommy, does that mean Working Mommy implies that a stay at home mom isn't working?

So, what's life like as a SAHM, you ask? BUSY. But of course, that's not the perception out there. Let me describe what I think most people (including my husband sometimes!) think life's like for a SAHM like me:

9:00    Wake up refreshed to find a happy toddler playing. Baby is still asleep blissfully.
9:15    Eat leisurely breakfast, probably eggs on toast or bacon ommelette. Surf the net or watch tv or read.
10:00  Baby wakes. Give her milk and change her nappy.
10:20  Play with Baby and toddler.
10:45  Give baby breakfast cereal.
11:00  Bath - lay in bath until water gets cold and all stress is gone from the body. Toddler is happily playing with his toys and baby coo's in her cot at her mobile.
11:30  Put baby to sleep. She's so tired, it only takes 5 min.
11:35  Play with toddler.
12:00  Spend some time on a hobby or something like surf the internet, read, watch some tv shows I've taped. Inbetween teach toddler some new concepts through play.
13:00  Get toddler and baby ready and fetch eldest children from school (comes out at 13:30).
13:45  Get back, make all children lunch and put baby to bed. She's obviously very tired again and again only takes a few minutes to fall asleep. :-)
14:30  Watch some tv shows while the kids do their homework quietly with little help needed from me. Toddler quietly plays with his toys.
16:30  Tell the kids to go play outside, give baby milk and while she's playing contendly with her toys, I start dinner in peace and quiet. Uninterrupted.
17:00  Tell kids to take a bath each, helping toddler to wash and dry, tell kids to get their school clothes and books ready and do their house chores, while I pack the dishwasher and finish dinner. They listen and do as they're told each and everytime. Of course, I'm a SAHM so my kids should be well behaved and disciplined, not true?
18:00  Put a delicious, healthy dinner for my family on the table and see how they scoff it all down, even the vegetables.
18:30  Give baby some mashed up dinner to fill any hungry pans left after giving her some of our dinner to eat as fingerfood.
19:00  Bath baby.
19:15  Spend some time with the kids, playing Uno or something.
20:00  Put all 4 kids to bed, read stories, pray, give milk, sort out chronic medications, etc.
20:30  Make hubby his well-deserved cup of coffee and put my feet up, watching some tv shows with him.
23:00  Go to bed relaxed, happy and looking forward to an uninterrupted night of SLEEP.

When, in fact, it rather goes like this......

0:30   Get woken up by hungry baby looking for some milk.
0:40   Put baby down, thanking my lucky stars she only drinks 5-10min at night. Try to fall back asleep, if I can just stop my head racing with all that happened the previous day.
5:00   Get woken up by hungry baby looking for her milk. Listen to the birds sing. Praying it won't keep baby up.
6:45   Get woken up by hubby's alarm. Turn around and try desperately to sleep some more, silently praying it won't wake baby up too.
7:15   Hear the garage door open and (silently again) say goodbye to hubby and the 2 school-going children
7:30   Get woken up by baby, give her milk. Put her back next to me in her cot (open side pushed against my bed). Hold her hand, willing her to sleep just a liiitttllleee bit more.
7:45   Hear toddler wake up and go into sittingroom to watch tv and play on daddy's iPad
8:00   Wake up to alarm and a cooing baby
8:10   Jump into bath, QUICKLY because baby is lying in cot playing with some toys and won't be happy for more than 5 minutes
8:20   Dress baby
8:30   Make breakfast as quickly as possible, call toddler to come and eat. Eat own cereal while shoving cereal into baby's mouth. Realise she's not hungry enough yet.
8:45   Quickly swallow down too hot coffee (or already-gone-cold coffee), throw toddler's school lunch in his bag, check that his jacket is still inside.
8:50   Make sure baby doesn't want some more milk. Brush toddler's teeth and yell at him to quickly get dressed. Yell at intervals of 3 min for him to hurry up and to remember his shoes.
9:00   Put baby in carseat. Make sure toddler has put his car seatbelt on. Pack bags into car. Lock doors. Hurry off to playschool.
9:15  Sit in at playschool, trying to be encouraging for toddler to participate and not be so shy. Catch up with another mommy friend on some much needed adult conversation. Holding (heavy!) baby in arms all the time.
10:00 Greet toddler who's now happy for me to leave him there.
10:20 Give baby cereal again when we get home.
10:40 Give baby milk if she wants. Trying to read what's up on the baby forums I frequent on the internet, while baby feeds.
10:50 Put baby to bed. This means, hold her, rock her, say shhhhh, rock her some more, sing a bit, hold dummy, stop her from arching her back screaming because of reflux, rub arm where her head has hurt it while she arched her back, rock some more, say shhhhh, rock some more, pick the dummy up she threw down, rock some more, give some telement in the hope that she'll suck the dummy, rock some more, sigh in relief when she falls asleep.
11:20 Hold baby for 10 minutes to make sure she goes into a deeper sleep.
11:30 Put baby down with a big sigh of relief. Start cleaning up the sittingroom, grab a much needed glass of cooldrink and a quick snack. Read email and quickly surf the net for all of 10 minutes, posting a few posts on baby forums.
12:00 Baby wakes up. Give milk, change nappy and play with her.
12:30 Pack dishwasher and clean kitchen while baby plays in her pram or sitting in the donut. Hurry, because she won't be happy for too long.
12:45 Drink a 2nd glass of fluid, berating myself for not making time to drink the 2liter I need for breastfeeding. Grab something to eat again. Make baby's lunch. Eat and drink while feeding baby's lunch. Hurry, because we're running late for playschool. Steal 2 minutes to quickly check what's going on at the baby forums I chat in.
13:00 Fetch toddler from his school. Ooing and aahing about what he did at school. Talk a bit to his teacher and any other mommies picking up their toddlers.
13:30 Pick eldest 2 kids up from their school. Berating one for forgetting something, while praising the other for doing well in a test or something. Trying to concentrate on the road with a moaning baby that's tired again, toddler and his sister laughing hysterically at something and Mr N trying to tell me something important.
13:50 Get home, trying to calm a baby who's overtired beyond belief already. Get a quick lunch ready, settle toddler in front of the tv with his lunch (squashing my guilt) and refill his cooldrink. Yell at the older 2 kids to only take a 10 minute break, and then start their homework while I put baby to bed.
14:10 Yell at kids who's still noisy, all the while giving baby her milk and browsing the internet. Multi-tasking rocks!!
14:30 Rock, shhhh, rock, pick up dummy, give more milk, rock, shhh, rock, shhh, sigh in relief.
15:00 Hold baby until she's in deeper sleep. Getting impatient to go and check up on toddler while stuck in room with baby.
15:10 Quietly slips out of room and calling daughter to the sitting room. Have a look at her homework. Trying to help where she struggles, encouraging when she looses hope, listening to her reading passages, quizzing her on tests, etc. In between, grab a sandwich and shove it down with a cup of coffee and making sure toddler is happily playing with his toys.
16:00 Fetch baby that woke up and change nappy. Give toddler a snack and refill cooldrink. Get some much needed cooldrink myself and quickly go to the bathroom.
16:15 Make sure poor toddler is still okay playing with his toys. Encourage daughter some more. Yell a bit because she's getting tired and lazy. Start dinner in between. Yell at eldest because he forgot to do some homework. Yell at toddler because he's kicking a ball inside the house. Continue dinner. Send boys outside to play ball.
17:00 Quizz daughter on some more homework, yell some more, yell at eldest because he forgot to tell me he needs clay and carton for school. Stop rice from burning. Rock baby because she's tired again. See if she wants some milk. Stop meat from burning. Cut some veggies up while talking animatedly with toddler and singing a song to keep baby happy.
17:30 Hurry daughter into and out of bath. Get eldest to go shower as well. Quickly bath toddler. Try to finish dinner. Send kids outside for some much needed fresh air (thank goodness for staying in a hot, dry, sunny part of our country!)
18:00 Finish dinner to a point where I can leave it for 30 minutes. Give baby milk and rock and hold her until she falls asleep. Hold her for 10 more minutes.
18:30 Dish up dinner. Sit and relax for about 10 minutes. Baby wakes up. Fetch her, try to finish eating luke-warm food before it's completely cold. Give baby something to eat while we eat.
19:00 Make baby mashed up dinner and give to her.
19:15 Clean kitchen, yell at daughter to do her chores (making lunch boxes for next day). Get son to make their drinks for next day. Throw a load of washing in the machine.
19:35 Bath baby.
19:50 Play a bit with kids if possible.
20:00 Get chronic medication ready. Make coffee. Put plates out for next morning's breakfast. Refill cooldrink for toddler, giving him his meds, brush his teeth, read story or get daughter to read him story. Pray with each child separately, say goodnight, tuck toddler in. Carry baby everywhere I go, because she's tired and doesn't want to play alone with toys. Can't put her in bed until all the other children are in bed, because their noise would wake her up.
20:30 Give baby her milk. Hold, rock and shhhh baby.
21:00 Hold baby until she's in deeper sleep.
21:10 Drink cold coffee. Clean sittingroom a bit. Make sure all 3 older kids are in bed and asleep (or reading in eldest one's case).
21:30 Sit down in front of tv. Watch a show while surfing the net.
21:50 Baby wakes up. Give her some more milk in the dark. Very boring.
22:00 Sit back down in front of the tv. Try to watch rest of show with hubby.
22:30 Toddler cries for some reason. Check up on him.
22:35 Sit back down in front of tv after getting a much needed cooldrink and snack.
23:00 Go to bed, surf the net or read.
24:00 Baby wakes up, drinks milk and refuses to sleep. Hold, rock, shhh baby.
1:30 Desperate by now, gives baby some more milk and finally she falls asleep.
5:00 Get woken up by hungry baby looking for her milk. Listen to the birds sing. Praying it won't keep baby up.
5:10 Sleep.
6:45 Get woken up by hubby's alarm. Turn around and try to desperately sleep some more, silently praying it won't wake up baby.

And so forth....

Now, add to that the following events in between:

Go to shops to find birthday gifts.
Grocery shopping.
Get milk and bread and fresh fruit.
Go to post office.
Put petrol in car.
Quizz son on exams.
Try and figure out what daughter has to learn for exams.
Do research for eldest's project on the internet.
Get cartons or glue from the shops because daughter needs it for school.
Play ball outside with toddler.
Build puzzles with toddler.
Play monopoly or Uno with older kids.
Clean house.
Vacuum.
Hang up or take clothes down from washing line. Fold washing. Iron.
Make beds, clean bedrooms, tidy toys, clean bathrooms, wash floors.
Answer the phone
Visit friends.
Watch a movie on tv. Watch my favourite soap.
Cook extra bunches of food to mash up for baby, to freeze.
Visit family.
Send emails. Do budget or any other admin like filling in forms or making some phone calls.
Visit dr because I have some issues since the last c-section. Go for a sonar. Take baby for her 6-month check-up at pead.
Sit and wait outside school for kids' afterschool activities to finish.
Teach baby to sit, crawl, talk, walk, eat, laugh, smile, everything.
Wash all 4 kids' hair.
Buy clothes, shoes or a new schoolbag for one of the children.

Etcetera. I'm too tired to even think about all the million other little things I do around the house, for the kids, for baby in particular, for hubby, for friends, and so on. All during the week, so that on weekends, we can relax and spend quality time together as a family.

So ya, that's my day. Hectic, busy, rewarding, wonderful, lively, active, frustrating, exhausting, and so forth. I love it! But I'm done. I honestly can't see where I would've fit a 5th child in. I always wanted 5, but I'm happy that we've done the sterilisation, because I'm at my limit. I don't regret any of my 4, but for me, personally, 4 is my limit. To add a 5th, would've meant cutting down on time spent on the other kids and my hobbies. And I don't think I would've liked that. I'm a bit of a perfectionist. And I find that it's not as easy anymore to be "the perfect mom" with 4 kids. I have to fall in the standard I request of myself, and that frustrates and saddens me. So for me, 4 is enough. I understand that some people would have 8 kids without feeling like I do. Just as I never felt like that after 2 kids, while other people told me how done they are, because it's just so busy and too much, having 2 kids. Every mom has their own limit. I'm so so happy I've reached mine. I would've always felt sad not to have another baby, if I didn't. I also wanted to say with conviction, that I'm done having babies. And now I can. And it makes me so happy. I would've always felt something missing. Now, I'm complete. My family is complete. Life is as busy as I can handle it, and it's lovely. I love every minute of it. I cherish it, because I know how quickly it passes. My oldest is almost a teenager. In little more than 6 years, he'll be leaving home. Way too soon. At least, I have another 18 years left of having at least one at home still. By which time, I'd probably be grateful to grow old in peace and quiet, LOL.

Almost healed!

It's going so well with Boeboe's spider bite. It's almost healed! This photo was taken last night. Approximately 10 days after being bitten, and 7 days of antibiotic treatment. Absolutely amazing, the whole healing process. Isn't the skin and body wonderful?

7 Days of 3 types of antibiotic (1 topical and 2 oral)

Boeboe was a real trooper. Sometimes, she's a little crybaby. If she has a papercut, she'd cry and complain like it's the worst thing ever. And then something like this happens where I can imagine how painful it must be. She couldn't sit on that leg, she had to keep the leg stiff at times when walking, because movement caused pain, bathing was painful, putting the ointment on burned, etc. But she never cried or fought me on anything. She allowed me to treat her, she drank her medicine without complaint and even helped to remind me when I almost forgot. I think she was still scared of the whole thing, and knew that she needed the treatments. Anyway, I'm just very very thankful that she's okay. Both me and her daddy has this huge fear of spiders. My biggest one is sac spiders, and of course, that's probably the one that bit her! When she was 2 years old, she once woke up from a nap. She was still sleeping in her cot. I went to her and bent over the railing to pick her up. As I bent, I saw movement in the corner of my eye. When I looked down, there was a yellow sacspider on the inside of the railing, about 3cm from my face. I yelled, jumped back, then darted forward again grabbing my daughter from an angle away from the spider. By which time her daddy came running in. We killed the spider, but I had this awful awful feeling that she's going to be bitten. So it's almost as if I've waited for this day. I'm so very very grateful that it only happened when she was 9, and could tell me, and fight the infection off.

You might think I felt she's going to be bitten because of the huge fright I had at that point. But I don't believe so. One day, I sat on my bed reading to Mr N. He was also something like 2 or 3 at the time. I picked up a pillow that I've thrown off the bed earlier the evening, and put it behind my back. The open end of the pillow case was at the bottom, pressing against the matress. Unbeknownst to me, a yellow sacspider must've climbed into the pillow case. My movements must've disturbed him, because next moment, he came running out right between my leg and Mr N's leg. I screamed my head off, grabbed Mr N and held him as high as I could, all the while trying to get away from the spider myself. Fortunately, he just ran in a straight line away from us. I was able to kill it, and from that day I always check pillows that laid on the floor when I pick them up. Especially on the inside. Anyway, this happened years before the cot-spider incident with Boeboe. But I never had this feeling that Mr N's going to be bitten. And even a month ago, when we found the yellow sac spider in the clean washing, and it dissapeared from my bed, with Peanut's bed pushed right against mine, I never felt like Peanut's going to be bitten. So it's not just a fear of spiders that caused me to feel like Boeboe's going to be bitten. I think somehow I'm really intuned with Boeboe. It started when she was still in my tummy, and I always knew she's not fairing well, but that she WILL live through her birth and whatever happens thereafter. Same with her backoperation. I had this conviction that it MUST be done.

Anyway, that aside. You'd think like we live in the bushveld with the amount of close encounters with spiders we've had! Especially yellow sac spiders. So you can understand why I hate them so much! Though, it really isn't as bad as it sounds. These incidents happened over a 10 year span. But ya, we do live in a country with some crazy bugs, insects, snakes and animals! Like they say, Africa isn't for "sissies"! (Sissies in my hometongue means timid, fearfull, scaredy-cats!). The school where Monkeyman goes to, is on a smallholding. And a few weeks ago, the teacher killed a rinkhals in her house!!!!! And it's NOT the first snake they've found on the smallholding. So yeah, this is Africa for you!

Spider bite!!!! Eeeekkk...

WHY does everything have to happen to Boeboe?! I don't get it. :-( Well, as you can gather from the title, Boeboe has (probably) been bitten by a spider. We're not 100% sure, because we only took her to the dr about 3-4 days after it must've happened! (Mommy of the year award, I know. *embarressed face-palm*) The dr said that if we brought her in immediately, he could've maybe seen the tell-tale teethmarks (2 tiny bites). But by this stage, the evidence has been destroyed by the infection in the wound. He guesses that it was most likely a spider bite, but it could even be another type of insect, or (unlikely) ringworm, or something like a mosquito bite that she scratched and then it got infected by bacteria. Personally, I think it's a spider bite. We're having way too many of them in the house. I kill them when I see them (sorry, I do). I have an extreme fear of spiders. My sister believes it's because as children we've been traumatised by a mother who found them the most beautiful creatures in the world, so not only did she not kill them, but she actively encouraged them to live in the house with us. She called one particular one in her pantry, her little "pet"! So yeah, I fear them like nothing else. I refused to go into that pantry. Anyway, about a month ago I found a big yellow sac spider amongst the clean washing when I folded it. Unfortunately, it fell down right on to my bed (where I was folding the washing) and it dashed off. I tried to find it. We looked for hours (me, husband and the elder kids). Because baby Peanut's bed is pushed right against ours (like one big family bed) so I was terrified that it would bite her in the night. Well, we never found the spider. Boeboe prayed very hard that evening that God must please help Peanut that the spider does not bite her, or mommy and daddy. Then, on Tuesday, a month later, I found it (I think it's the same one) in my bath! Alive, but stuck, unable to get out. I flushed it. But now I wonder, maybe it was hiding in Boeboe's room all this time, and it bit her, then got into our bathroom overnight, and I killed it.

In any case, it must've happened around Monday I think. Tuesday evening, she asked me to look at this little "bump" she has on her upper back leg, because it hurts. I was busy with Peanut, so I had a quick, hurried look. It was raised, reddish, about 5mm in diametre, and had a scab on the top. It almost looked like a scratched mosquito bite. So I told her I think that's what it is. She told me, "but mommy, I never scratched it". So I said, you probably did it in your sleep without knowing about it. She accepted the answer and darted away. I forgot about the incident! Two days later, on Thursday, she told me "Mommy, my skin is falling off"!! I had a look, and this is what I found:

Day 4 - Starting antibiotics and a topical cream

 

I took her to the dr, at that time of night, and I'm so grateful I did. We got a combination of antibiotics, as well as an ointment to put on. It burns the crap out of her when I put it on, poor thing. The dr says the "rings" (red and white) makes him believe it's a spider bite. The rings apparently grows bigger and going more outward as the infection/poison spread. I heard that spider teeth is full of bacteria, so even if it didn't inject any poison, it could still cause a bad infection. Well, within 1 day of giving antibiotics, the reddish inflammation around the wound is MUCH better, and by 2 days it was gone. This is how it looks now:

Day 6 - Two days after starting antibiotics

Definitely a huge improvement. The poor thing complains that it's still very sore. That middle, yellowish part is very hard, like a crust. I'm wondering if it'll leave a scar. :-( Anyway, what's done is done. I feel awful though, for not having a look on Wednesday how the "mosquito bite" looked. I'm just very grateful that the a/b's seemed to have halt the progress, started to clear the infection, and fascilitated the healing process.

Something else came out during this process. When I saw it, I told her I believe that she might've been bitten by a spider. She was immediately very scared, asking if she's going to die now. (sniff sniff). I told her no, if it would've killed her, she would've been dead already. Because she was bitten at least 3-4 days prior, and she's still fine. So she's going to be just fine. She accepted the answer, but asked what will happen then? I told her most likely we'll need medicine, and in the very, very worst case scenario, they usually operate. She told me "so I'll have 2 operations". I asked why? And she replied that she still needs another back operation. I was astonished, and wanted to know what made her think that? She said the dr said that when she grows bigger, the filum will reconnect/retether, and she'll have to have another operation to cut it. I told her no, she misunderstood the dr. He said in very rare cases, that it is a possibility. But it's so rare, it's not something she should think or worry about. She was very relieved! So I'm kinda grateful this came out. I never knew she was worried about having to go through one of the worst times in her life again. Poor thing!

Happy New Year!

Goodbye 2012, hello 2013!!

What a year. And the world didn't end. ;-) For me, 2012 was a good year. A great year, in fact. My last and 4th baby was born. Safely, healthy and perfect. My second daughter. How happy can one be? Sometimes I think I'm ontop of the world, there's nothing more that could make me happier. And then something happens. Something like the birth of a child, and I realise now I'm as happy as one can be! It was a beautiful year. The first half was spent in a haze of nausea, but it was all worth it. Every second of 9 months of nausea. I see so many people comment online that "now their family is complete". That's how I feel. At long last, I can say that in all honesty. I have the children I wanted. I'm done with pregnancy and babies and having more children. Because I'm happy with those I have. I'm satisfied. I'm complete. I'm so so so grateful that I too could say that and mean it. I think if given unlimited funds and health, I could've and would've had more babies. But for what I was given, I'm very happy and grateful to have 4 children. And two of each. How blessed am I!

So 2012 was a good year. At the end of 2011, I was tired. I was nauseous. I was done for. The pregnancy came too quickly after Boeboe's operation and the 2-year long road I had to travel to get to that point. Even though 2011 was a good year, and turned out well, I couldn't face it. I couldn't see it and deal with it. But now I can. I can look back at both 2011 and 2012 and realise we had 2 good years. We have so much to be thankful for. Four healthy, beautiful, exceptional children. Each with their own difficult paths that they had to travel. But we travelled it step by step, with God as our lead, and we ended up in green pastures. I'm so thankful. For Boeoboe's operation. For the success it was. For the seizing of Mr N's epilepsy - holding thumbs! So far so good. Three months without medication and no seizures that we've noticed. For Monkeyman's improvement of school. For Peanut's birth. So much we're grateful for in 2012.

So what will 2013 bring? I hope it will be a quite year. An easy year. A non-medical year!! A year where we won't need to see specialists and doctors and hospitals and such. I know it's not possible. Boeboe and Peanut both need regular check-ups. But as long as it's just check-ups and nothing more. We can only pray and hope and believe that that would be 2013. And we'll take it day by day, enjoy Peanut's first year with her, and be a family of 6!!

I hope that everyone that frequent this blog will also have a wonderful, peaceful and good 2013. Happy New Year!!!

A tribute to my mother

I miss my mother. I always miss her this time of the year. Naturally. I wonder if one ever stop missing his or her parents? I was very close to my mom. People tend to think that if you lost a parent, you weren't that close to that parent. Because they can't imagine that it could happen to them. Loosing their parent. So if they're that close to their mom, it is simply unimaginable to loose her. Thus, you couldn't have been that close to yours, because the pain would be too much to bear.

Unfortunately for those that think like that....yes, you CAN be that close to your mom, and still loose her. And yes, sometimes, especially in the beginning, the pain IS too much to bear. But somehow, with the grace of God, I got through it. And still get through it. The pain is never gone. I have acceptance, yes. I don't cry anymore every time I look at a photo of her or think about her. But it's still a hole in my heart. It will always be a hole in my heart. But, 11 years down the line, it's bearable. The missing stays, though. It never gets any better. I still wish I could phone her and tell her about the horrible day I had. Or email her and get that twinge of excitement when I see there's a reply. I wish for her wise words to sooth me, her support to carry me through the hard times.

My mom was a very special person. Yes, I know, everyone says that. But as a person, as a human being, mine was really, really special. She had what we call in my mother tongue, a depth of spirit that was unequaled. I've never came across anyone else that had such depth, such soul, such beauty. She was an intellectual, and she understood human nature like no one else. She had empathy for the worst kind of human beings. Whereas I saw things and people as black and white, she saw them in shades of grey. She understood how I felt, but she had empathy for everyone. Good or bad. She could summarise people immediately and knew where they came from. She understood what shaped people.

These unique abilities made her the perfect highschool teacher. She didn't work in the normal school environment though. She went to teach the poorest of the poor. Communities that had very little to give. Very little support. Very little going for them. And she threw her whole weight behind her job. She gave everything. Her mind, her body, her soul. I can't remember much of the mourning service we gave her after her death. But what I do remember, was the beautiful words that her collegue spoke. You could hear how much he (they) valued her at the school. How much she meant to them. Professionally and personally. And how much they're going to miss her.

My mother loved music. Apart from her family and work, this was her big love. She loved Handle, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Schubart, etc. All the big composers. For relaxation, she would lie down in the afternoons, and for an hour or two, she would put her music on loud and just gave herself over to the music. It calmed her. It restored her soul. I could never get into classical music like she did. Unfortunately. Her other hobby was sewing. She made most of my clothes, and allot of her own. She also loved to study. I lost track with the number of degrees and majors she got behind her name. She loved geography the most. When I think of her, I remember her sitting by her desk, plotting the topography maps laid out. She studied through the post. The number of times I went to her desk to kiss her goodnight.... such bittersweet memories. And flowers. I can't see a beautiful flower, without thinking about my mom. She loved, loved, loved flowers. ALL flowers. She planted as much as she could afford, and tended to them like a mother. She would adorn her home with them. She loved putting welcoming flowers in all the rooms for visitors. When I developed severe hayfever from flowers, she would pick those that affected me least, and put one or two in my room. She simply couldn't NOT welcome me home without a flower in my room.

And the sea. Waenhuiskrans, to be precise. That's where her heart was.

I wish she could see me and my children today. I wish she could hold my babies, and get to know them as little people. See how unique and special they are. She would've LOVED them, I know. She would've most definitely have had a very special relationship with Mr N, because he sees the world like I do, and my views made for lots of interesting conversations between me and my mom. She would've had the same with mr N. She also would've loved seeing Boeboe. My spitting image. How special would that have been for her, to see her own baby repeat in her granddaughter. She would've been so please to see me as a stay at home mom. And even more pleased if she saw I had 4 children. She too had four children. And she always thought that I wouldn't be able to have as many. Because times have changed and all that jazz. She would've loved seeing me defy the odds and be as bold as to go and get what I want. To make my dreams come true. It would've pleased her no end. All that she wanted for us, was that we would've turned out well-balanced adults who live productive and happy lives. It would've made her very proud to see that that was exactly what we all did, in the end. It would've also please her very much to see all of us living so close together as we're doing. To see us support each other, care for each other. She would've loved seeing the bonds that formed between her grandchildren.

I do believe that she's with us, always. That she DOES see them. That she does get to know them, even if it's not with us in body. But in spirit, I know she's with us. I feel her sometimes. And sometimes I can even feel her emotions. I know, that sounds strange. But it's what I feel. I miss her so much. She was my rock, my support. The one person that didn't care what I say or do. That was always there for me. That always understood me. I'm fortunate that my husband and sister covers some of the hole in me. But nothing can ever take her place. I loved her like I loved no other human being for 22 years, until I met my husband and had babies. For 22 years, my mother was my whole world. The horror of loosing her...it left a permanent scar on my heart.

It hurts me to think that one day, my children will also experience this pain. But I hope that like me, they would find peace after their mother's death. That they'd have acceptance. And that they too would think of me with love, respect, longing and a sense of all encompassing support and care. I hope that they'd get over the initial sharp pain of loosing me, and then find solace in the life I lead. That they too would know I was ready. That I had the life I chose. That I was happy and had no regrets.

The gender debate...

Since we told the children that we're going to have another baby in the house, Boeboe has been adamant that it must be a little girl. She already has 2 brothers, she now also wanted a sister. She prayed for it for months, every night. That God will let this baby be a little girl. She understood that we don't have a choice in the matter, and that it could be either a boy or a girl. When I once asked her if she'll love another baby in the house if it isn't a little girl, she answered: "Of course. It's a baby. I loved Monkeyman even though he was a boy!". And that's Boeboe for you! So it's not that I fear that she won't love the new baby, I know she will. But, for her sake, I've been hoping that she'll get a sister one day. Mine means so much to me, I do believe every girl deserves to have a sister.

So in the beginning of this pregnancy, we assumed it will be for the best if we find out the answer. For Boeboe's sake. But then we started wondering. I sat down with Boeboe a few weeks ago and explained to her that we do have another option. That we don't have to find out the gender. That we can wait until baby is born, before we know. And that it will then be a big surprise.

Well, she surprised me!! She immediately grabbed onto the idea and from then on was adamant that we shouldn't find out the gender. We also told Mr N, who also found the idea intriguing. So, on the eve of my 16-week visit with the gynae, we sat down as a family. Because I have private health care in our country, I get a sonar with every 4-week visit at the gynae, and we knew she'd be able to tell us the gender this time (at 12 weeks it was just too early).

So we needed to decide, will we find out, or will we wait? After some discussions, no one could for sure say yay or nay. Mr N then had the bright idea that we must put it to a vote. He gave each one a piece of paper and we had to write it down. Afterwards, he and Boeboe collected everyone's votes and read the verdict. I was the only one that voted yay!! The rest, all the kids and daddy, voted no! So, that was the final decision. :) We thus have requested the gynae at our last visit to not reveal the gender, and she's taken care to make sure of that. Both me and my hubby has this "suspicion" that it's a boy, but sometimes I'll have this feeling of pink. In the beginning of the pregnancy, I thought the baby to be a little girl. So now I'm not really sure. Not at all. With the other 3 I was quite sure from the start, and right every time. This time, I just don't know!! And it frustrates me, LOL. I loved having that instinctive feeling of what it was, the other times. And I got those feelings before a sonar confirmed it for me.

In fact, with Mr N we didn't find out the gender either! I instinctively knew it was a boy, but we still decided to not find out. And it was lovely! We bonded with baby because it was our baby, not because of a certain gender. We loved him/her for what (s)he is. It really didn't matter to me or my husband. People didn't like it, they tried to convince us to find out. Even now, while we're doing it again, they immediately go into defensive mode and tell us how they had to find out. Because they needed to know for whatever reason. Well, we don't have those reasons! We don't need those reasons. Can't you understand that? Like the gynae said...there's so few things left in this world to be surprised about. Why not enjoy this gift for what it is? I don't have any problem bonding with a genderless baby. Why would the gender play a role there? Well, it doesn't for me. My baby is my baby. I love him or her just as (s)he is. With any faults/abnormalities/issues that may come with the baby. Why would the gender then be a distinctive marker? Well, to me it isn't. Oh, I wanted a little girl! I desperately wanted to have all that pink experiences again. I had the blue twice now, so I wanted the pink again. I tried for a little girl, and obsessed about it. Until I fell pregnant. Then, of course, those feelings mostly fell away. Now, this is just my baby. It doesn't matter who or what it turns out to be. I'll love it fiercly, like all my other children.

So, why do people get defensive about their choice of finding out the gender? Why do they feel the need to immediately reply to my "we're not finding out the gender" comment, to go into elaborate and passionate reasons about why one should know the gender? It has baffled me. Why would my choice illicit such a vehement defence of theirs? It's not as if their choices is going to change my mind?! So could it be guilt? Do they feel guilty for needing to find out the gender? I don't know.

We had both. We had the surprise with Mr N. And we found out the gender with both Monkeyman and Boeboe. And of those 3, the surprise was MUCH nicer!! There was just NO comparison for me. But when I tell people this, they brush it off as clearly not that big a deal. But they don't hear me. It was MUCH nicer FOR US. I'm not saying it should or would be nicer for other people. But WE, we loved the surprise! For US, it was the better deal. Waiting and bonding with our baby for 9 months regardless of who or what (s)he turns out to be, and then hearing that "It's a boy!" yell of surprise and excitement from the gynae....the moment was priceless. Of all 3 my births, of all the thousands of little moments that made the 3 births special, that's the one that stood out for me. And I want that again.

Yes, I voted to find out. Because I'm human and wanted to go buy a pink or blue babygrow and blanket. But I'm happy that I was veto'ed. That we get to have this surprise again. Yesterday, I took Boeboe shopping and we had a look at the baby clothes. We bought a few non-gender specific white things, and she was loving every moment. But she did say, oh, how will we be able to wait!! Because of all those beautiful little pink and blue babygrows....ah, bliss. I just told her we'll come and shop as soon as baby was born. :) And we'll buy all the pink or blue we want. In the meantime, white, yellow, lime and peach will have to do. She was satisfied with that. So, for now, we're only shopping for a few newborn babygrows. Most of what I need, I'll get after the birth. Fortunately I don't need much. We have loads of clothes in the cupboard from Boeboe and the boys, and we have all the baby stuff like a pram, a stroller, a cot, a camping cot, a carry cot, a donut, a babygym, carseats, a bumboseat, a seat to clip onto our table, sheets and other bedding, etc. We don't need much for this baby, except a few toiletries, newborn nappies and of course I want a few new newborn outfits for in the hospital. And just because I can. :)

Now, we have to wait for our little suprise baby in less than 5 months...can't wait to hear the gynae's voice yelling "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!". :)

Working vs staying-at-home

I can't believe it's December already. The children are on summer holiday!!! We're having a blast at home. Though, poor Mr N had a strep-throat last week that really caught him badly. Even had the rash! Very similar to the scarlet fever he had the year before, except no strawberry tongue this time. Fortunately, nobody contracted it from him. Unfortunately, he was too ill to attend his school's merits evening. He was invited, but we still don't know for what exactly.

We received Boeboe's books back for the term, and wow, we were impressed! She did so very very well. Her understanding is definitely much better. I'm so pleased for her. And I'm hoping for a MUCH less hectic year with her next year. She'll be going to grade 3, which I found the easiest of the grades 1-3 with Mr N. The work is less intense, mostly hammering in of certain concepts. So not so much overwhelmingly new work. And they're old enough to start doing nearly all homework by themselves. Except of course, still reading to mom every day. :) She's taken to reading so much! She reads in bed every night. Not for long, but she loves it and it makes me soooooo happy. She says she wants to become clever. Her teacher told her reading makes you clever, LOL.

She's still throwing tantrums, still having accidents, still hurting her feet. But she's doing so well in other ways, that I'd rather concentrate on that now. Yesterday, she did 2 things that her brother forgot. Both were told the same 2 things to remember, and only she did. I was very surprised, stunned and happy about that! Happy that my responsible boy can have fun and be irresponsible for a change, and extremely happy that my careless, "loskop" daughter can be responsible for a change, and REMEMBER. Using her memory! It was a great feeling. I rewarded her with a much wanted packet of sweets, LOL. Oh, for those non-Afrikaans people..."loskop" means to be loose in your head. So you're not thinking. You're careless. You're all over the place. Hope this makes sense?

It's also going well with Monkeyman. He's getting quite a personality these past few weeks. When he's upset or angry, he needs to remove himself, hide and take time to recover. It's so sweet and cute. First child of mine that does/need that. Totally opposite of Boeboe! Who will keep on screaming, tantrumming, until her anger/frustration/hurt was dealt with by me...sympathising, disciplining, etc. Monkeyman just needs a minute to be by himself, then he'll be all happy and loving and smiling again. Amazing.

Anyway, I didn't just want to give an update today. I've been mulling something over in my head. Wondering at people's reactions. Those that know me, knows that I'm very passionate about a few things. One of them is the schooling situation in our country. I can't speak for all cultures, all cities, all people in SA. So I'm just going to speak from my point of view...which is middle class, professional people. Most women like me, about 70% I'd guess, works. Either out of choice, or necessity. Most people choose the lifestyle that goes with getting 2 salaries. I don't blame them. I would most likely have done the same, if I wasn't in the fortunate position where we could (almost) reach that lifestyle with only one salary. But, I had the option, so I chose to be a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM). So my experiences and viewpoints are from this experience, of course.

I have an issue with creches for small babies. Lots of issues with it. I won't go into it now, because it'll take too long. But I understand that when you work (want to or are forced to), that you'll have to look at the positives to be able to drop your 4-month old baby in a teacher's arms 5 days a week, for about 8-9 hours. Some of my friends even have to leave their babies for up to 11 hours, if traffic is bad, etc.

What I do want to talk about, is the way some mothers not only turn this into a positive...but a necessity!!! This really shock me. I try to be sympathetic, or stay out of it by not replying in conversations, but it bugs me. It really, really bugs me. So the past few months, I've had a couple of "run-ins" with other mothers who told me their opinion. Every time I've decided to not reply, because I know myself. I feel too passionate about it, and it WILL come out wrong. A very good SAHM friend of mine once told me that we (SAHM's) will never understand working moms, because of the choice we've made. We didn't make the choice because we just felt like it. We made the choice because of WHO we ARE. It's ingrained in us. It's part of us. That means we have a totally different outlook in life. Not because we're a SAHM. But...we're a SAHM because of that outlook. It's a fundamental difference between the two groups. And that's why we don't understand working mommies (I'm generalising here, of course). And why they don't understand us. And that's why working mommies tend to be friends with working mommies, and SAHM's tend to be friends with other SAHM's. Of course, this doesn't mean I don't have working mommy friends. I'm again, just generalising for the sake of the argument.

Anyway, what happened was that I was having a really hard time with Monkeyman's shyness the past 6 months. Sometimes I wonder if it started by me "abandoning" him with Boeboe's operation in April, or if it's just an age thing or what. But at some point, I realised he's really the worst of my 3 (shy) kids. It's really painful to him. Let me explain.

When we go to a children's party, visiting friends, go to his playschool, etc. Any place where there's other CHILDREN (he has NO problem with adults!!) he will climb on my lap. He'll refuse to speak, and if any child (except his siblings) would just so much as look at him, he'll hide his face under my arm, head turned away into me. He'll even close his eyes. If the child will try to speak to him, he won't even just hide, he'll literally starts crying, or being upset. Even at school if the children starts to sing a song together, he'll be terrified.

Now, you may think this is extreme and abnormal. But to me, it's not. It's me. That's how I was. That's how I am. So I don't mind it much. Not at all. I know that he CAN and WILL grow out of most of it, and start to socialise when he's ready. I know this, because I know HIM. The way he acts around his siblings, is so totally normal. He'll be exuberant, playful, running around, not needing me at all. And when he's in safe surroundings, like his house, and only ONE child visits, he'll be fine! If there's 2, he'll be a little timid, but after a while, starts to play with them. If we visit one child, he'll take a few minutes and then starts to play. When we visit a house with more than 1 child, it'll take him a bit longer. You see the pattern? If there's allot of children, even those he knows well, like friends' kids, he'll take about an hour to start playing.

So what's my point? The fact that a number of friends and family (all working mommies) has made me understood that in their opinion, I'm the problem. Not Monkeyman. It's because of ME that he's like that. They say, if I would just FORCE him to go to school, he'll learn to socialise and enjoy it. He's hanging onto me, accordingly to them, because I'm the one that can't let go.

I think the emotion I feel the most clearly after these accusations, is sadness. Sadness for their callousness. Sadness for what I guess they did to their children. Sadness for the way they see the world. Sadness for their children that is forced into situations they can't handle. Sadness for how little they understand me, and the dynamics between me and my children. Sadness for how little they understand my child. Sadness for how little sympathy and empathy they have for my child.

I guess it's like being thrown into the deep water to teach someone to swim. Yes, it works for some children. Yes, it's one way of handling the "problem". But WHY do I NEED to do THAT? There's soooooo many other options! Why am I being blamed, for choosing the typical SAHM option, and not the Working mommy option? Why is it "normal" in our country, our society, for a child to be ripped away from their mothers when they're not ready? Why should a 4-month old be away from their mother? Why should a 2-year old be away from their mother? Why should a 4-year old be away from their mother? If they're not ready? What's so WRONG about being WITH your mother? Needing her? Wanting her? At what age should this separation happen? Clearly not at 4-months? So if people can do that to their 4-month old babies, why do they need to tell me I'm the wrong one in this equation, just because my child is 3? How can MY wrong, be so wrong, and THEIR choices just be what's right/acceptable/good? How and why did this happen to society? Where it's MORE right for a 4-month old to be away from their mother, than a 3-year old being close to their mother??!!

My opinion is that children DO grow up. They DO gain independence. I never hold my children BACK on purpose. But I also don't PUSH them into something they're clearly not ready to do. WHY? What will I gain? What will the kid gain? And at what cost? If the cost, the hurt, seems more to me than the bit of independence gained, why should I do it? Independence WILL come. If I force it or not. So why force it? I really don't see Monkeyman still sitting on my lap age 6 in grade R! Or hiding his face from a group of children. And I'll be ready for him to go as well. Just like with the other two. I was about the only mom with both Mr N and Boeboe that wasn't crying when I dropped them off for their first day of school. Why did I need to cry? It was a happy day! They were starting this whole, brand new experience for which they were so ready, so looking forward to it. They had no need to cling to me. They didn't cry. They smiled and waved goodbye. Because they were secure and independent.

In my opinion, from my experience, children starts to gain independence and develop in huge leaps and bounds around age 4-5. I'm sure Monkeyman too will get this boost. So he WILL be fine in a year's time. So why force him to stay at school, crying for his mother, while I drive away? The kids I've seen who that has been done with, is no more independent than my eldest two. In fact, both Mr N and Boeboe is, as I mentioned, quite independent and doing very well for their age. The grade R teacher even commented to me once that Mr N had the easiest adjustment to school she's ever seen. And that for a child who's never been to school until he was about 4 years old, and then only went to school once a week. Age 5 he went twice a week and everyone warned me that I should get him "into routine" of going 5 times a week. And I couldn't understand WHY. He'll get into routing WHEN he's going 5 days a week. If it's in playschool at age 5, or in Grade R at age 6, what difference would it make? Both me and him were loving it having him home 3 days a week (later on 2 days) at age 4 and 5. He loved going to school, but he also loved staying at home. It was always a relaxing decision. I've never ever had to force one of my kids to go to school when they didn't want to, until they started grade R (and even since then it's almost never a problem. They've never even faked illness to get out of school!).

They've never cried for me, while I drove away. And I sincerely believe I'm reaping the rewards with my 2 eldest. Both being confident, adjusting easily to new situations and new teachers. Even this year, with grade 4 being SO much different than grade 3, Mr N was like a fish in water. Not even registering the changes as big. He just adapted and continued. So no, neither of the eldest two are still attached to my pants. They can easily go play all day at a friends house, or have a sleepover, without missing mom much. They love being at home, and being with their parents, just like I did when I was a child.

So if it turned out so well for them, why should I change it with Monkeyman, just because his shyness is worse than theirs was? You get my point, I guess. As you can see, I'm passionate about this. And it upsets me that working moms expect SAHM's to follow their examples. I honestly do not think what working moms are doing, is always the best for every child. So why do I need to follow their example? I let the child and his personality lead me. Not the ideas of society that has turned sending 4-month old babies off to creches into a "normal", "right", "acceptable" and even "a good thing"! I can almost understand someone who's child is in creche from an early age, to think a child NOT in creche at age 3 or 4, is "wrong", "deprived", etc. But I don't go around and blame them and tell them their child was deprived at age 4 months, or 8 months, or 15 months because they were in a creche. So why do some of them feel the need to blame me?

Some people even gave me the arguments about how much their children has learned in school, and of course thereby implying that Monkeyman ISN'T learning anything. Gosh, how silly hey? Firstly, ALL children learn with time. Monkeyman was able to recognise ALL colours before age 2, without me ever sitting down to teach him. If he was in creche, I would've exclaimed how wonderful the creche is, because they're teaching him his colours so early! Wow. (*sarcasm*).

Monkeyman has been able to count to 30 for months and months now. I didn't teach him this. But neither Boeboe nor Mr N could do this even a YEAR after they've started school (playschool age 4)!! It's just how their little brains are wired. Monkeyman can sing songs. Neither Boeboe nor Mr N could do it even after 2 years in playschool, AND 1 year in grade R. Both could only sing their first song (remembering all the words) when they were 7! I firmly believe that children learn when their brains are ready to make those connections. You can force it all you want, if they're not ready, they won't learn it. If they're ready, you (or a teacher) may be able to teach it to them before they learn it by themselves. Thinking how wonderful the creche and teacher are, LOL. But, in my opinion, the child would've learned it in any case at some point. By age 7, most kids are almost equal in what they can and cannot do. Some are better at some things, obviously. Which I believe is mostly due to genetics and talent. You're good at maths, or ball sports, or dancing, etc. That kind of thing. As long as you provide a generally stimulating environment, with no pressure, enough sleep and rest, lots of love, and good food, I believe most children will achieve what they've achieved by age 5, if they were in school or not. They may not know that specific song the teacher has taught, of course not. I'm talking about general development of the brain and body. It would make no difference if a child has learned Silent Night at age 3, age 7 or age 15. In my opinion. So the specific detail is irrelevant. The methods of using the brain to remember the song, count, clap hands, use scissors, colour in, add and subtract, etc. Those methods are what's important. And the brain connections needed to accomplish that methods....they're there at age 5. Schooling or no schooling.

Monkeyman can count objects already. He can add 2 different number of objects to each other. He can smile and laugh with extreme happiness (daily). He can dance and sing. He can throw and catch a ball. He can cut papers. He can draw a little man. He can phone someones number. He can have a conversation with you that leaves you amazed at his perception of the world. He can play games on the i-Pad that wasn't designed with children in mind (not because of violence, etc. but because of its difficulty level). He can figure out new games before his dad had a chance to explain it to him. He even plays backgammon with me! He taught himself to read certain words, like yes, no, etc. (in English!) and some in Afrikaans. We never speak to him or read to him in English. He figured it out from playing i-Pad and watching English cartoons. He can tumble with his brother like he has no fear in the world of getting hurt. He can run around with Boeboe until he's all red in the face and laughing hysterically. He can play with his friend for hours without ever fighting, not even over a toy. He even plays with his siblings' friends, talking to them like equals. Not seeing the years of difference. Not even realising he's so much shorter! He can hold a baby with so much gentleness it plucks at your heartstrings. He can count backwards. He can count in 2 languages. He can play battleship against me or a computer opponent. And win! He can play mahjong! He can look at you like he's 70 and has all the knowledge in the world. He's one amazing little boy, and I do not see anything wrong with him, for not going to school. So he's scared when there's 20 children together. So what? Why force him to face them, when he's not ready? He can face his fears when there's 1, 3 or 5 children. Isn't that good enough at age 3, given everything else he's good at? So he's socially behind some of his peers. That doesn't mean he will be socially behind his peers at age 5, if I don't force him into school! Why on earth would people think that?!

Anyway, rant over. Fortunately, Monkeyman is MY child, my responsibility, and me and his dad feels the same. So I'll try to ignore the working moms telling me that he NEEDS to go to school, and that I have to FORCE him to stay (by leaving him behind crying). Thank God that I do not HAVE to do that. That I do not HAVE to accept that as the only (and thus the best) choice for my child. That I do have other options. And Thank God that I have the strength to follow my instincts, rather than the pressure of society.