My poor, poor husband. I wonder if he ever thinks about how different his life could have been if he married that sweet, homely Afrikaans girl instead of me. He might have got someone who actually cooked meals for him, instead of selecting ‘two minutes on HIGH’; who could pop out the well-behaved babies at the drop of a drawers, instead of costing him thousands in infertility bills and ending up with twins who DO NOT LISTEN; a wife who obeyed his every command instead of telling him to piss off and stop being an asshole, who was sweet and young and innocent instead of older, whinier and full of shit. Poor bastard. Oh well, he will never know, now will he.
PS: I have a date with the Vag Cam tomorrow for Cooter Operation: Find Mirena in the Uterus. Looking sooo forward to it. Not.
Learning the correct way to hold the club isn't easy
Ball placement is critical
As is remembering where your ball landed.
At the end of the day, it is all about practise, practise, practise*!
*Edited for the Americans: Yes, I meant to spell it that way ;-)
I am convinced that the minute I leave for work in the morning, Adam goes online and reads my blog.
To answer your questions from earlier comments:
1. I don’t think he has ear problems, but I am taking him to an ENT next week to make sure.
2. He might be teething, he is an early teether. I’ll check that. But I am very reluctant to medicate him every night for a long while. A few nights is fine. I have never been big on pain-masking meds, but I also don’t want to under-medicate if there is a problem. Will have a poke around his molar area.
3. interestingly enough, it might be the 18m regression thing, because they are actually 19m2w and 1 month prem. So they fit slap bang in the middle of that 18m sleep regression window. Could be. Very childish of them.
4. Kate and Adam have been in separate rooms since Adam got home from NICU. He yells way too loudly to sleep in the same room with Kate. However, even with separate rooms AND both doors closed, he manages to wake the neighbours two streets down with his yelling. He has a big voice. To put it mildly. Always has.
5. The cots they have are the extra long, big ones. I especially bought these fancy ones that convert into toddler beds. So there is more than enough room. Oddly enough, thankfully enough, they have never tried to climb out them.
6. Both kids still sleep in Grobags. I heart those Grobags. I have summer and winter ones.
Before I had kids, while I was in the midst of the infertility shite, I used to tell myself that I would never complain, about anything. I would be so grateful and happy to have a child that I would joyfully endure every single thing, the good, the bad and the horribly childish. I think that is a pretty understandable reaction. Even the bad side of parenting is better than anything infertility might have to offer. That I still believe. I will take sleepless nights, throw-yourself-on-the-ground-tantrums and wall-to-wall snot over being infertile and childless, any day. Times a million.
post is not directed at anyone in particular, I am not angry, or upset, or
offended. It is just a reflection of
where I am in my life. It is a good
place to be. Normal. Happy. Grateful. At peace.
BTW: I’ve decided that I am going to do the CIO thing. We will listen to see how he is doing, and if his cries go from “get me out of this effing cot RIGHT THIS MINUTE you BAD mother” to “my life is no longer worth living, my heart is breaking, oh Mother, why have you forsaken me”, Marko will go in and pat and shush. It is clearly not working when I go in. He has my number. I was all fired up to start last night… he woke up at 9:17, cried for 5 mins, Marko went in, shushed him and told him to go to sleep…… and he never woke up again, the entire night, the asshole! But I think it was a very brief lull in the storm. At least it gave me some sleep reserves to tackle tonight. Wish me luck.
Things have slowly starting slipping into the bad old times here. For last month or so Adam has been waking up at night and crying, wanting to be picked up. Every night at about 2’ish. I have to go in, pat, shush, go in again, pat etc. After about a week of that I was so tired that one night I put him the bed with Marko and went to go sleep in the spare room. Adam slept beautifully. So we tried that a few times but sometimes he wont go back to sleep. He is very restless, tossing and turning and none of us can sleep. So back in his bed he goes where he yells, I go in and pat, shush, pat, go out, he yells and two hours later I eventually get back to sleep.
How times have changed. Instead of discussing whether it is good form to tip the soup bowl away from you or towards you to get that last bit out, I want to ask you about what is good IM (instant messaging) / chat etiquette. A sign of the times indeed.
Forgot about the saying good-bye thing!! When is the conversation over? Andrea reminded me with her comment.
My problem? I have a hard time, in chat and in IRL,
for a matter of a fact, ending a conversation. I feel rude saying, "Well
gotta go, talk to you later". Don't know why! And how much of this can you
"Talk to you later!"
"OK, have a good day!"
"I will, you too! Bye!"
"Bye back to you too, hope we can chat tomorrow!"
"I can chat tomorrow, around lunchtime! Bye!"
"Lunchtime isn't good, so maybe in the morning! Bye!"
"Bye back at you!"
etc. Drives me nuts but I can't figure out how to make it shorter.
OMF. Can’t talk. Mouth dry and sweaty armpits.
Just got a call from a TV show saying they want to do a story on me and my story.
Me! TV! The whole nation will see in my full and splendid dorkiness! What if I come across as even dorkier than I am already! Oh.My.Hat!
Funny thing is yesterday I got a call from a smaller TV show asking me to feature in a show they are doing in October. Not so nerve wracking because I am merely part of the story, not the entire story. Which is far easier, but still v nerve wracking. Anyway, told Marko about it and he says “that’s fine, but there is no way on earth I am appearing on TV”. Fine, I said. Wasn’t an issue.
Except, well, this TV show is much bigger and they want to interview him as well. Tee hee! He is even more nervous and shy than I am about public speaking. The poor man. Imagine if he got the fertile wife who cooks and bakes instead of the infertile wife who burns downs kitchens and makes him appear on national TV. In front of millions of viewers. MILLIONS OF VIEWERS. WATCHING ME. ME!!
I can’t even write about this anymore. It makes me too nervous.
Actually the real reason is that I am off to lunch with the divine Dr H. ‘later dudes.
The Published Author and now Famous TV Personality
**Cooter issues ment**
(I am putting that warning up that in case you wondered over here from elsewhere. You might want to skip this post)
Good news! I am not dying! However, I do have a rather large cyst on my left ovary which explains my pain in the ovary area. It is a respectable 45mm big, which translated into American is roughly 2 inches. I think. Big enough to annoy me, small enough not to get hysterical about.
Every morning while I get ready for work, I have an audience in the bathroom with me. While I shower, I have two faces peering at me through the shower door, trying to tell me something. Something that is usually quite frightening to hear. “Oh No*! Broken!”
Adam in my shoes and with Marko's toothbrush (I am not going to risk giving them MY toothbrush to brush the cat and clean the floor with, now am I), and Kate sitting on the loo putting on her make up with my little make up mirror from my bag. I do NOT normally sit on the loo putting on my make up, promise! However, she likes to sit on the loo, it makes her feel important and it keeps her away from hanging off the edge of the basin.
* ‘Oh No!’ is their absolute favourite expression. It is always said woefully with maximum melodrama. For any reason: a shoe coming off, a book dropped, a page torn, a toy broken. ‘Oh No!’ is often followed by ‘Broken!’, because 99% of the time whatever it is they had is now broken. By them. 19m old toddlers are THE most destructive things I have ever come across.