Doula Mel

Pops OK.

Worrying is exhausting, I feel positively ancient!   Pops was admitted on Thursday, the bypass delayed till this Sunday.  He had to lie very still with a balloon in his heart and stent in his leg.  Medicine is just fascinating and reminds me how cool it would have been to study meds and be a doctor.
They did the trip bypass today which took 6 hours.  They will wake him up at 3.00am and my mom will see him tomorrow afternoon. 
It was really scary and I am just so glad he has come through OK with the op successful.   I am trusting for a quick uncomplicated recovery and a Popsie that feels years younger with a great bunch of fresh oxygen with each breath.  Being short of breath and being unable to do anything remotely strenuous just sucks of course.   What a year we have had with the parentals!   My poor mother is exhausted too from worry and waiting.  Thanks for all the prayer and support, especially from Mish and Vicky, my darling friends and fellow clappers.  They are God's BF's so with them praying, I have even more peace of mind.  Thank you God for looking after my dad and being in that room every second.

Yesterday when Tertia and I went to visit him and he looked so good and strong (half the people in ICU look half dead!) and I felt so lucky to have this young dad who I love so much.   Lucky, lucky me to have such groovy fogies and be their fave girl!

I have a teenager!!!

Today Daniel turns 13 years old, a very symbolic birthday for both of us!   Daniel is my friend, my buddy, someone I love hanging out with.  I am enormously proud of him, not for anything he does or doesn't do, just for who he is.  Some say I am blind to his faults, some even accuse me of having an Oedipus comlex.  Its not so, I know his many faults, the guy can drive me frikkin' crazy.  I will also not be weeping at his wedding one day wishing he would marry me instead.   But love him, oh yes I do, more than I can ever explain.   I love his self-confidence, I love his sarky clever sense of homour, I love his wit.  He is comfortable amongst grown-ups and although can speak the biggest load of bull, he can hold his own.  So far the awkwardness of hormone induced body shape and skin have alluded him.  He remains a boy with perfect skin, no gangly long limbs just yet, no sweaty pits and no up & down voice.  Oh I hope he doesn't get my skin but who knows, it could still be coming.  He is so in-between, half child, half teen.

I have a young women at my church about 25 or so with a little boy of about 5 months.  I sit behind her and watch how she kisses and inhales her small son.  She is all mother and madly in love.  That was me 13 years ago.  I was fascinated at how big that mother love was, how it fitted me like a glove and how I loved being the mother to this boy God had blessed me with.  For a good year I was drunk on it, the love, milky boobs, baby skin, mother pride.  Me, a mom, what a mind freak!

And now 13 years have gone by and I am still so crazy about this boy. How lucky am I to be his mom, his biggest fan, his cheerleader through life.  He could be different, he could have issues.  For those who know our early circumstances you could easily imagine someone angry with rejection or bitterness in his life.  But not, he knows he is loved.  His mom, his dad, his sisters, his aunts & uncle, his Mimi and especially his Pops.  The only dampener on our perfect day is the worry over our Pops.  Daniel & Pops have always had a connection, they are both 'mens men.'  The trip bypass was scheduled for today but he had another mild heart attack on Wednesday so we are now hoping for Sunday.  Sister T has written about it in more detail.          

I haven't even bought him a proper present, Gary says they will go shopping together tomorrow.   We did walk round and round for hours but nothing, whatever I choose is lame as I know nothing.  What he did get this morning is an acceptance letter into high school!  We are both stoked.  It is not the 'all boys traditional sporting school' I originally wanted, just a really good regular state school that is affordable and close by and just perfect for him.   Now I can stop worrying about cashing in the educational policy that is sending us to Mauritius in 84 more sleeps!

My 1st grey hair and all that follows

In April this year Gary and I had the fortune of going to Miami & St Martin on the annual work incentive trip.  Going away without kids makes me feel many things.  Some are not so wonderful like the anxiety, worry, missing them etc.  Some are brilliant.  I feel young, a whole lot more sexy, I feel like half of a couple, adventurous, I feel like the person I used to be only better.  

So there I am, dressed in summery pretty holiday gear and putting cream on my face when I notice a thick grey hair on my head.  Me, GREY!   On closer inspection the hair had 2 friends and I had to pull them out.  Being thicker, they hurt more than my fine and shiny regular hair.  I know many people go grey really early, especially people with dark or curly hair.  Me being blonde or mouse most of my life , not so much.
I felt pretty crap about it actually and minded more than I thought I would.  Older, I am getting older and my prime time is behind me.   It made me stop and examine other parts of my face and body and they too were moving South.  I know it is inevitable and I have had a good long 38 years but still, it is hard.  When I look at old grannies, they are invisible.  Heads do not turn when they walk in a room.  I am not saying heads always have when I do walk in (Lord forbid that I should be so vain!) but yes, on the odd occasion when I actually make an effort and we are out somewhere, I do have the odd head whip around and it does feel nice to have that little affirmation. 

After a day or 2 of introspection I pulled my aging self towards myself, had stern words and changed my attitude.  'Melanie, stop being so vain and shallow.  Yes you are getting older, everyone else is too.  You can still be healthy, you just have to take care of yourself.   Dress cleverly, you like longer skirts anyway and thanks to Colleen (B*tch!) you now know those wrinkly knees will need to be covered.  And also, remember when you are 60 you will look at photos of yourself now at 38 and think, damn.. I was young and gorg so WHY was I already moaning that I was old then???'
Fine, attitude adjustment taken care of, wardrobe sort and turf done.   I actually need to colour my hair still and am supposed to be wearing make up every day and making an effort.  I will do my hair next week, promise.  I hate the HOURS that I have to sit there.  Seems like a huge waste of time.   I am a little tempted to use colour out the box.  Does anyone?  Is it dreadful for your hair?  Will I be sorry?   What would I use?   

Yikes, 7.43!  I have to be at the hospital soon for BB.  My grounding moment in life when I see what is really important and what people have to go through.  Will do a BB report back soon and tell you how the baby clothes drive is going.

Luckily he is tungsten-man

Just as we have all caught our breath from worrying about one parent, the other fogie gives us a big fright.  Pops always says we make him old and he is clearly getting his revenge by making us all worry.  On Sunday he had bad chest pains and EVENTUALLY (stubbornness hereditary) let my mom take him to hospital.  He was admitted and forced to stay despite much grumbling and demanding that he be sent home to cuddle his dog Nancy, watch his sport and smoke his stinky pipe.  He had to stay another night and was transferred to another hospital for more testing.   The tests revealed a mild heart attack and the angiogram a blockage.   He has come home tonight but goes back on Thursday to prepare for a bypass on Friday.   The man has had 3 heart attacks (the 1st at age 29 which he blames on us obviously) and a triple bypass at age 40.  He reckons he is made of tungsten and is one super strong dude.  I tend to agree but I think we are all more worried than we pretend to be.  As a family we cope with humour and downplaying, we don't do much dramatic wailing and weeping. 
As he has only just turned 60, he has got to be around for at least another 20 years till we are all grown up.   If ever I have my black fantasy (must blog about that sometime) where I am this tragic rich widow, I always have my dad to do man stuff.   On the incredibly rare occasions when I consider killing  leaving being left by Gary, I know my dad is around.   He has always been the big hero to his kids, especially to his 3 girls and we all need him way too much for married women of our age.   Apart from this need though, we love the old man and he may not go anywhere.  Dad, I love you, old Fart!  

Trixie-Blieksie Fifi girl

Sjoe but I am EXHAUSTED!    That was a very fun party but like any kids party, really tiring.   I had FORTY little critters running around which excludes siblings and Daniel and his mates.   Fortunately the weather was perfect and the venue great for kids of any age.   I went in early to set up and lugged tables and chairs and the likes setting it all up.  Then off home to make more of those pesky party packs and pack the last stuff.  I had my make-up bag in my bag determined to look gorg for the party but somehow it never quite made it to my face.   After the initial 20 minutes of stressing setting up last bits while little people were arriving, all went well.
The played pass the parcel, did potato & spoon, musical chairs and just had a jol.  In fact similar to how we use to have our parties.   I was lucky Gary took half the day off and came to my rescue bringing candles, more food, strong arms and some general assistance.   The party was a big success and I am glad Sofia had a good time, it is all that counts.  Rebeks got to have a few friends too so got more prezzies which as you, lights her fire baby!   Thanks to all their generous friends, you blessed us big time and it means loads to do over the school holidays.
And now, my note to my love.   (Too buggered for a long one here so will have to do short and sweet.)
Hey my big girl
Today you are FIVE!   Do you know how big that is, a whole hand!!    Mom & Dad wish you a very Happy Birthday Sofia.   We are all so lucky to have you in our lives.  You are the best hugger and cuddler, a really good ballerina, a great cutter-outer, as flexible as a rubber pretzel, excellent horse rider, have beautiful long blonde hair, have a special way with animals and you are kind and caring.  I am very proud of you Fifi.  Meeting you for the 1st time was the best thing ever.  Having a girl after being convinced you were a boy, well you can imagine what that was like for mom because we know boys are a big pain in the bum.  You were the sweetest baby and you have stayed the sweetest girl.  I pray you will have another 90 birthdays in your life, that God will send you a very handsome, kind and fun husband who loves Him and loves you as much as mom does.  I pray that you will have lots of children and I will get to babysit them lots.  I pray that you will always have friends who you care about and who care about you and make you laugh and make you happy.  I pray for good health for your gorgeous little body.   I pray you and I will always be close, you and Becks too.  I know she is very noisy but she loves you lots.   I am glad you had a fun party, it was our pleasure to give it to you.  Sleep tite Trixie-Blieks, tomorrow we play with all your new fun prezzies.
Mom. xxx 

Elvis wants her Mama

Holy Moly have I been sick the past 3 days!  It started on Wednesday night and continued to kill me slowly but thoroughly until today.  I seldom get flu like this and unfortunately Gary got sick too so we were both parent down.  I always envy people with older kids when they get sick, Dads too actually.  You JUST get to be sick.  Lie in bed and rest.  Moms, not so much.  
I ran a fever and shook and shivered (shake, rattle & roll baby!) and wished so much my mom could come and help.  Number 1 she lives too far to just pop in and number 2, sister Nina and family arrive from Korea tomorrow and I couldn't risk my mom getting ill.   We have discovered the toxins of the chemo linger for months and her immune system stays low.  She LOOKS fab tho', I love her pixie hairstyle and like the funky grey too.  Before I wanted her to colour her hair and not go grey.  It meant she was getting older and I wasn't quite ready for that.  Now with her having gone through the chemo and beaten its skanky ass, I am just grateful to have a mom and the hair is a bonus.  People love having the 'why bad things happen when God is supposed to be all loving etc' argument.  I am not going to get into that here and now but the sweet lessons we learn from times of hardship or trouble or tragedy somehow allow me to see His hand in the good AND bad times of life.    

Although I am exhausted, tomorrow my baby turns 5 years old and I am throwing her an amazing party.   For me, age five is my fave age.  I think it is even more so with little boys but still, 5 is just awesome for me.   I have gone overboard with the presents.   Because she is so undemanding and fairly quiet, I really wanted to give her much and have this fun party she would love.  The weather is going to be stunning... those sunny winter days when the sky is electric blue and everything is crisp and fresh.  I've baked, I've wrapped, I've made 26 little cardboard party packs with handles (frikkin' boring and now I am 8 short!) and now its just the last minute stuff to do.   Tomorrow I sneak in my little letter to my little love who I am privileged to mother. x

I have GOT to enter the lotto

I have told you ladies how I am pretty lucky with winning things.  Lately whenever I am somewhere with a lucky draw, I just know I am going to win.  Today was the last day of term.  Just over 3 glorious weeks of school holidays!  I know the weather is kak but at least we can sleep late or just lie in bed and cuddle and drink tea.  No rushing off to horse riding, ballet, soccer etc.   Every term one of Sofia's classes gets to host the school cake sale to raise funds.  The Busy Bees were up and they did a splendid job.  They have some REAL moms in their class, the super ones who throw amazing parties and bake incredibly and decorate everything perfectly.  One of our moms says 'how INCREDIBLE is the decor?'   'Huh?  Didn't notice,' I say.   'We have GOT to beat them next term!'   'Um, ok then.'    Seriously, just don't notice these things and despite being somewhat competitive, I am not when it comes to school stuff.  In fact I am probably a crap school mom not very involved or overly helpful.  I think being a bit shy and socially awkward in groups means I am even less inclined to get involved.  My excuse is BB... I will do the community, they can do the school stuff.  

So being a great customer I buy lots of cake and those yummy broken marie biscuit cocoa squares.  I also take 2 raffle tickets to win the splendid black & yellow bee cake complete with wings, legs and feelers.   I tell everyone I am going to win it.   The time arrives to leave and fetch Rebeka but they haven't done the draw yet and I am waiting for my cake.  Finally they do the draw and my name is called.  FREAKY Dudes!  Everyone was squealing in disbelief and looking at me like I was some kind of nutty psychic.   I was actually really embarrassed and felt myself blushing which I never do.   How weird is that?   I said I would win, I just knew I would and I did.   The cake is now in my freezer to be thawed on Monday morning when Fifi-girl turns 5.    Gary says enough of the cake and hairdo's and wine and books, I need to win something real now like money or a holiday.  I agree, it is time to step up my competition entering and hopefully win a trip to Disney or something.  In the meantime, it is now 93 sleeps till Mauritius, not that I am counting or anything...

Winter, not so much.

Drip, drip, drip.  My roof in the children's bathroom is really leaking.  You practically need a brollie when you sit on the loo.  I hate being cold, hate the endless rain and mud.  Some people LOVE winter.  I think in really cold countries, homes are geared up for it with central heating and the like.   We just have heaters that chow electricity.   With the SA energy crises and constant worry about power outages, we can't have all our heaters on all day.  Sorry no post yesterday, Sofia was really sick for 2 days with high temps and sore throat and ears.  I thought it was tonsillitis but it seems to be an ear infection AGAIN despite her being on antibiotics 6 weeks ago.   She is on a 2nd course again and another R630.   Spending money on Docs and medicine is a little like traffic fines.  It feels like such a waste of money but something you simply have to pay.  Last night I started getting sick too and lay in my bed pathetically wishing for Gary to come home to take over with kids and Zara.  
If I had that anon blog I would zip over to have a little spousal vent but not possible so I will just not say anything at all.  Grrrrrrrrr!
In my current melancholic state, I am not only cold and miz but think about the people in the townships all the time.  Living in cold and drafty tin homes, may of them leaking.  People simply die from cold here, it is f'ing ridiculous.   Those mothers I give bags to, many have to take their newborns back to those conditions.   Sometimes I want to die.  Literally, like be in heaven and not have to think about the suffering of people.  It gets all too much, how screwed up the world is, how poor and desperate people are here.   Blech, told you I was miserable.  I think its the yaz, stupid yasmin!   We are no longer BF's.  Silly cow, makes me weepy, periody all the time.  I had so hoped it would be the answer to my nightmare PMS episodes but it seems I need to try something else.  The only real benefit has been perky b00bs which is winner of course.   My perky b00bs and I are going to lie in the bath for a bit and try and thaw out a bit.  Hoping my mood will follow those b00bs and I will be more la la lah tomorrow.

Bye-bye ballerina girl

As a parent, one has all sorts of hopes, plans and dreams for your kid.  Many of them involve missed opportunities from your own childhood.  Some are just unachieved goals or unmet dreams.   There must be a hundred girly movies out there where the pushy mother is forcing her daughter to skate or dance or ride and achieve gold as the mother missed her chance when she was young.    Fortunately for my kids, they share a very average mother who was pretty competent at everything yet excelled at nothing in particular.  Some other stuff we want our kids to do... simply fun things you want your child to enjoy and learn from.
When Rebeka was little, I decided ballet was definitely her thing.  She is petite and graceful with a willowy figure.   Her 1st teacher was a real battle-axe and Rebeka wanted out at the end of the year.  (Me too!)   
I wanted her to dance so we tried a new teacher who she liked a whole lot more.   Surprise, surprise... my prima ballerina landed up being an average dancer but she enjoyed it so we carried on and enrolled her sister too. (Turns out Sofia shows more dancing promise with her flexible little strong body.)

This year Rebeka is less keen over her dancing.  She wants to do her art and with limited time and money, something has to give.    Me being thrifty me and a commitment nazi, told her she would need to finish the term and dance her best each and every week.   Today was her very last ballet class and we were both quite sad.   I suppose the fact that she hasn't any real ballet interest makes it easier but still, watching my little girl dance was obviously a sweet pleasure I will miss.   
 

My baby is staying

So, a quick summery of reasons for my torrent of tears I produced on Thursday afternoon, evening and Friday morning.  Firstly, hormones get the blame of course.  Remember how I was going to take the Yaz for 9 solid weeks and skip all placebos and not get a period?    I was going to be stable for 9 blissful weeks.  Seems skipping the placebo and going straight onto the active pills of the next packet doesn't fool my genius annoying body.   Still ate like a porker with a sweet snout and although I didn't want to kill anyone, I was very weepy.   Eight days later of active pills and I am still not in the clear so will have to phone super gynae.
But the real reason for the weeping... my Zara.   I had a bad day with her and at puppy school she nipped my daughter's little playmate on the chin.   Sweet Dani tried to pick her up while she was playing with her puppy friends and she got a growl and a nip.  Later Zara turned around and bit me on my ribs drawing blood once again.   It was the 2nd time that day she caused me to bleed from a nip and Rebeka also had a little bite on her foot.  I was very upset and thought she had an aggressive nature and she clearly had to go.   I was mortified that Dani was nipped.    I phoned Gary, cried, went to see 2 girlfriends and cried more.  We spoke to the rottie association and later Gary phoned her teacher who is also a behavioral specialist.   She didn't think Zara was aggro, just being a puppy and gave us some tips to handle her.   It has been much better and I am relieved I don't have to give her back.  I was totally heartbroken and sat loving her the whole evening when I though she would need to leave.   My brother accused me of being a dog person but it isn't so.  I am like that parent that only loves her own kid but isn't particularly fond of other peoples.  I love my Zara.   I am still not dog crazy although I did pet someone elses today.   Kids, I love all of them, well, most anyway. 
I promise not to become a boring dog blog. (Lord forbid!)   I have many topics dying to chat about including a few ones that will probably get my butt kicked.   Tomorrow I might just tackle the biggie... obese children and the accountability of adults they interact with.