Just say Thank You

There's been an internal struggle brewing within me. 

A little while ago, Kai was a little under the weather. He spent part of the night in bed with us and when we could no longer taking the moaning and whining dumped him back into his own bed where he promptly fell a sleeping.  

I woke up at what I assumed was a short time later. It was actually 9am. I bolted out of bed and went to discover Amy's bed empty and the house quiet. My first thought was that they had all been ruptured. It would be yours as well if you watched never ending end of days movies as a child.  

But then I checked Kai's bed to find him fast asleep. A quick chat to the husband let me know that Amy had been dropped off at school. 

But then who made her lunch. Tim did. Tim who doesn't quite know his way around the kitchen beyond scrambling eggs and making rice or pasta. 

OK fine it was just a sandwich and fruit. Easy enough. But it's not part of his job for smooth running mornings in our home. He does breakfast and gets Amy dressed and I do lunches, the daily contents for various bags and sort out Kai. 

And so came the conundrum. 

Do I say thank you?

Because it's only just stuff out of routine and not anything ground breaking. Tim wasn't doing anything that he really needed to be thanked for. At the end of the day he made his daughter lunch and took her to school.

Like a good parent. 

We've been assaulted by a bevy of bloggers that implore us to stop undermining dad's and give her their due. After all father's parent as well. Tim himself woukd look down on you if you even dare to suggest that he's babysitting one of his children. 

So in my hesitant attempt at a thank you, I really needed to think about why I was so greatful. And that's pretty simple. 

For an hour or so I got to sleep in interrupted and wake up when I was ready.

Like one wise person said...

No one thanks you for making lunch but sleeping is excellent.

So no I'm not saying thank you because my husband was a responsible parent. I'm saying Thank you becaue you did a wonderfully considerate thing. 

Keep it up.

I'm not drunk... I promise

It's a Sunday as I write this. The first day of a long week that will hopefully end with a finished kitchen... Of course I had to include the kitchen. It's Day 2

Usually Sunday means church and today I was on kids duty. In between all the chit chat I said something about how much I love being with my kids and I found it fun. To which someone responded 

'are you drunk' or maybe it was 'what are you drinking' 

Now I will be the first to admit that there are days (and they are NOT few and far between) where a glass bottle of wine feels like it would take the edge off. I will also admit that there are days when a few edges need to be taken off for the safety of the general population within my immediate vicinity.

But most days I love being with my children. I love watching them grow and learn. I think they're incredibly extraordinary. 

And they make me laugh. 

But I often wonder about the effect it will have on our kids to hear their parents declare so strongly that they don't love spending time with them. I want both my children to know from now that I love the time I spend with them. That it makes me happy and it fills me with joy. 

I won't have ever claim to be a perfect parent. I fail. I know I do and so I sought some help from a mother wiser than I. I explained my failings in great detail and then asked her what I could do to be a better mom. And the reply I got was 

Stop being so hard on yourself and just enjoy her. 


Sounds so simple doesn't it? Just sit down. Just laugh. Just listen to the laughter. Stop trying so hard.

It's not easy though. It's hard to laugh when your children are doing hadeda calls to each down the passage at the mall. Especially when you can feel the hard unforgiving eyes boring into you. 

Except that it is that easy because really as if  that person never out a foot out of line. Children are best enjoyed as children and that time is so short and fleeting. 

So no I'm not drunk and I'm drinking anything. I'm having the time of my life.

Kitchen Nightmares and no Gordon Ramsey in sight

We're just a about to hit the 10th anniversary living in our home. We moved in here in May 2007 maybe. When we moved in, I told the husband that it was perfect and we could have our first child here.

Well we've now had our second and I'm rethinking my idea of perfect. Partially because we have just completed day 1 of the Great Kitchen Makeover.

I'm going from having a teeny tiny cupboard suitable for a couple that lived on take out to a giant corner step in pantry designed for mostly clean living mom of a kid with allergies. Make no mistake, there is great joy and much dancing about the new available space. But if you listen closely; there is an occasional wail of absolute despair because I do not have a stove for the next week.

Yes it's true that my extensive list of appliances can see us through the week but there's something about being able to stand at the stove and stir rice endlessly (rissoto obviously) while pondering the effort of being a pinterest mom.

Planning is going to be a little bit more of an effort this week. But man I can't wait to fill that cupboard.

Long week

This week has been a long week. I'm slowly coming apart at the seems. Kids need to be rushed around for physio appointments and extra murals. Dishes need to be done and lunches and dinners  made. Husband is home this week so there's three mouths to feed excluding my own.

Going to an event is always a gamble. Kids run riot which frustrates the husband resulting in me trying to make sure he doesn't get mad while simultaneously trying to rain in 2 rambunctious children during the witching hour.

You bend and weave at each new thing desperately trying to hold on and keep your head up. Trying to to be all things to all people and failing in ways you haven't even thought of. Because I don't want to be the mom who yells or gers angry and so...

You give up.

Or at least I did.


I left it all and changed into my pjs and got into bed. We were home so the husband was less likely to blow a fuse. It was safer for me to let go.

So I did... Because sometimes you have to.

And then came the cry.

Then it came louder

And then the call.

Mama

Mama

Mama


I called out hoping it would be enough.
'It's time to sleep. It's not awake time'

And louder the call came.

Mama.

So I dragged my weary soul. Hope that all it needed was a face. A quick hug. A short cuddle.

All three in quick succession and then I turned to leave. And the cry came again.

Louder and forlone.

So I got my pillow and sat on the floor next to his crib. I shoved my hand through the thin slots. A prison that held me even though I was on the outside. He grabbed hand and held tight. A long day had just become longer.

But in that moment he said again.

Mama

And this time it was different. This time it was hopeful and happy. He clutched at my hand and sighed. Content. I listened as his breathing slowed down till I heard that slow steady pace of a sleeping toddler still clutching at my hand.

In those moments all the frustration of the day melted away and I felt so blessed and honoured to be mother to this little boy.

I don't know how long I sat there listening to them breathing but it was the perfect end to a less than perfect day.

Hello 2015

So I didn't keep up with the blogging last year but I have plan and purpose this year. Amy is at this amazing age where she says and does so much that I want to remember. I also have limited space in my head. Seeing Kai grow I realise how much I've forgotten about Amy and it makes me sad. So here goes

Today Tim and I struggled to hold back the laughter in the face of our distraught little girl. Amy poured her water into her cereal and the results were not what she wanted.

Miss Lila

It's international Trisomy awareness month. Meet a miracle.


In Michigan a miracle named Lila is about to turn 18 months old. Lila was born in September 2012. Six days after she was born her parents were informed that Lila was “incompatible with Life” and would not live very long.  Lila had Trisomy 18 or Edwards Syndrome.

I’ve never met Lila being that she lives in the United States and I don’t but I’ve had the privilege to be able to be able to watch her grow and develop after becoming friends with her mom Kayse on Facebook. Kayse is amazing. I’m sure she has her ups and downs but to me she always comes across as poised and ready to take on the world. I will never forget the day someone made a somewhat impolite comment on a picture of Lila and seeing Kayse’s reply. She so very graciously explained that Lila had Trisomy 18 and the picture in question was an example of one of the symptoms of Trisomy 18. I had to message Kayse to let her know how much I admired her and her reply yet another example of her grace and strength. Kayse told me that as Lila’s mom it was her job to educate people and spread awareness.

Even though I’ve never met Lila, I watch avidly for updates from Kayse about each milestone that Lila reaches. Every time she learns to do something new, I watch in wonder. The little girl who was compatible with life now knows how to crawl and loves Thor. Lila is a little girl who keeps fighting. She’s the most amazing person I know. Lila reminds me every day that you just have to keep fighting.

 I hope one day Amy and I get to meet Lila.

20 week catch-up

So I bunked a week. It was a busy week. Amy was sick and so was I. But here I am now fingers at the keyboard typing up a storm.

This second pregnancy has not been easy. Amy is a wonderful fun little girl with the energy of a few Duracell batteries. The result is one very tired me by the end of the day. I LOVE those 2-3 hours mid-day where she takes a nap. It’s the chance to have a drink while it’s still hot, eat my own food without having to share. Sometimes I just stare out the window and enjoy the leaves. Most times I take a nap. I need one as well.

This first half of this pregnancy has been exhausting on a physical and emotional level. I had morning sickness for close to 19 weeks and in between that kept getting knocked down with flu’s and colds and just general yuckiness. But it’s the last 2 months that had been the most trying of them all.

My 12 week blood tests came back with markers for Trisomy 21. Down Syndrome.

This was not something that I had been expecting. I had initially opted to not do the tests but because I was having blood drawn anyway, I gave to go ahead to take the little bit extra. It wasn’t something that I had ever imagined could happen. I was well aware that people with Down Syndrome existed. I had even thought about contacting the Down Syndrome Society of South Africa so I could befriend one of the moms. I might come across as being a bit self-righteous here but it’s very important to me that Amy learn that everyone is special and must always be treated with respect. But this was too close. Too personal. Too much.

I got the call on a Thursday and on the Monday I was sitting in the Doctor’s office to discuss options. OPTIONS can be such a dirty word sometime. Our options were all up in the air. While there were markers in the blood test, there were no markers in the scans. At the 12 week, Dr’s look for the nasal bone on the face and the nuchal fold at the back of the neck. Those results were perfect and clear.

Our options were WAIT AND SEE, A Fancy test in the Americas or Amniocentesis.

The Fancy test was not going to happen. Not in this life time and it isn’t necessarily the cost issue that is the factor. The Fancy test is REALLY fancy and all it really involves is a vial of BLOOD. Blood that happens to contains all your entire DNA and the DNA of your unborn spawn. This blood gets put into the Fancy Test Machine and viola your DNA sequence. This was not happening.

WHY? Well because I watch Bourne Identity and I watched Salt and I watch WAY TOOO MANY MOVIES. (Too many movies can also be blamed for me climbing over the unconscious girl in the back seat in the 2007 crash convinced the car was going to explode.) There is no was the CIA or the FBI or the KGB was ever going to get hold of my or Zips’ DNA. Not willingly anyway. So no FANCY test.

Amniocentesis was the second NO. Amnio is another dirty word. Amnio involves sticking a super long needle into the womb to extract some of the amniotic fluid. The amniotic fluid that would contain some of the baby’s DNA. The problem with amnio is that it carries the risk of miscarriage. A 1 in 400 chance and my current risk of have a baby with Trisomy 21 was 1 in 400. The same risk all around so we went with WAIT AND SEE.

WAIT AND SEE involved a visit to a fetal-maternal specialist in Durban. Dr Bhorat. Yes, I also snorted the first time I heard his name. What on earth could Bhorat know?

Well a lot apparently.  Our 20 week scan was scheduled with Dr Bhroat. It was without doubt the MOST expensive Dr’s visit I have ever been on. Dr Bhorat has leather couches in his waiting room. Most of the other Dr’s have your run of the mill office furniture or maybe some really nice couches. Dr Bhorat has leather because he can afford them. It did take forever to get to that point.

Dr Bhorat has spent half my life studying unborn children. He can point out all the different internal body parts to you during the scan. I had no idea what he was looking at. He kept rattling off name and pointing our heart chambers and the halves of the brain and all I saw was black blobby stuff. Because that’s all I can see. I’ve spent the last week re-watching the DVD and still can’t see anything Dr Bhorat did. But he looked at all the different ‘soft markers’ and everything looked like it should.

Dr Bhorat did some recalculations and Zip’s risk factor has changed. This was a tough 2 months to go through and to process. I know a little girl with Trisomy 18. Looking at pictures of her and watching her mom helped me realise that Zip was mine and would always be mine irrespective of how many chromosomes s/he has.

March is Trisomy awareness month. This is my own personal story. Not all of what I went through is here. But one thing I will never forget;

WE ARE ALL FEARFULLY AND WONDERFULLY MADE.