I am sitting here
with a tissue paper plug up my nose as we speak. My nose is sore from blowing it. And if I don’t blow it, it drips. My head aches, my throat is sore and I have
I don’t have a
normal, every day doctor. What you call
a ‘family doctor’ I think, and what we call a GP (general practitioner). I am not normally a big doctor-goer, and for
the last six years the only doctors I have ever seen have been cooter-related
doctors. Infertility / pregnancy /
etc. Anything else that was wrong with
my body had to sort itself out. (The kids, of course, have every kind of
specialist doctor under the sun: a Paed,
a ENT, and OT etc etc.) Today I had
to shop around to find a doctor I could see. I’d have gone to my cooter doctor if I could
have, but even I have to admit it is a bit of a stretch from an out-of-order
vagina to a sore throat.
Albertyn family is sick. Took the kids
to the Paed on Monday and now Marko and I have succumbed to the lurgey as
well. Kind of a sinus infection / cold
type thing. We are all on
antibiotics. Blah. Sick kids no fun. Sick husband even less fun.
On that note ….
Why is it that if
a husband and wife are suffering from the same ailment, the husband always
seems to be sicker than the wife?
And why is it
that if a husband and wife are suffering from the same ailment, the husband is
totally incapacitated while the wife still has to do all the
normal household chores and kid stuff. What would the husband do if the wife wasn’t around?
I am so tired of
snot, and coughing, and moaning. From
Men! Can’t live with them; can’t kill the
fuckers live without them.
A few weeks ago I
wrote about how I thought Adam might have sensory integration issues, and I ended
by saying that I could understand a bit of where he came from because I thought
I had some of those issues too. A few
people got upset with that statement because I think they believed I was making
light of what could be a serious diagnosis, and I do appreciate where they are
coming from. I really wasn’t trying to minimize what is for some, a very
serious condition. I was merely trying
to say that based on my own personal experiences with these issues, I have empathy
and some understanding for my son.
integration issues occur across a very broad spectrum, from very mild to very
serious, and although I know I don’t have sensory modulation issues or sensory
integration dysfunction, I do understand what it is like to be almost overly
sensitive to one’s environment.
I read an article
a while back about being sensory sensitive and I thought ‘hey, that is
me!’ I could relate to a lot of the
behaviour they spoke about.
I suppose if one
looked at each of these little ‘quirks’ individually, or even grouped together,
you could say that many people have them. That all of this is actually quite normal. And you will probably be right.
My odd ‘quirks’
include the following:
·Since I could, I have always
cut out the labels of my clothes. I can not have labels in my clothes, it
drives me crazy. I feel it all the time. ·I can’t sleep if my T-shirt is
bunched up or if the sheet has folds. I can feel the folds. ·In fact, I can’t sleep in any
thing other material than very soft, T-shirt type material. And never anything on my legs, no matter what
the weather. I do not know you guys
sleep in those lacey, frilly, strappy numbers. ·And yet, when I go to sleep, I must
have the soft cotton duvet touching my lips. It soothes me. ·My panties have to have soft
seams and comfy elastics. NO THONGS!! Granny pants rule! ·I never wear tight clothes ·I hate having my hair
loose. The hairs touching my face
irritate me terribly. I even sleep with my hair tied up. ·If a hair has fallen from my
head and landed some where on my skin, I can feel it immediately. I have to brush it off straight away. ·I hate noise. The first thing I do when I am alone is
switch off the radio and / or TV. I can’t
stand loud TV or radio, it makes me completely anxious. And my family in law LOVE the TV, as does my
husband. The TV is always on. I can’t have a conversation with the TV on. I have to tell them to turn it down. ·I can not study, or actually do
any concentrating work if there is music / radio on in the background. I can’t filter out the noise. ·I hate bright lights. I am forever switching the lights off. ·I hate having ‘stuff’ on my
hands. When I make a sandwich, for
example, I will wash my hands after each step, I just can’t handle the feeling
of food on my hands. Pushing the
shopping cart in the shop is a nightmare; my hands actually feel heavy from all
the ‘stuff’ I imagine to be on my hands.
But, my biggest
quirk of all is that I hate to be touched unexpectedly. When I did my Googling to read up about Adam’s
potential things, I came across a sentence that described me to a T. It said that people who have sensory issues
often “experience a feeling of being
attacked upon being touched (especially from light touch or sudden touch)” and
that their reaction is often an overreaction. This is so me.
I’ve always been
a little embarrassed at how I react when people touch me by surprise (tap /
poke / prod / flick etc). I completely overreact, but it isn’t a conscious
thing. I hit out. And sometimes with serious results. My husband loves to mess around with me by poking
me in the ribs or teasingly flicking my butt or whatever, and I HATE IT. One time he did it I reacted by hitting out
and I cracked two of his ribs, but it wasn’t on purpose, I swear!!! I felt really bad afterwards.
When I read that sentence
on the net I felt such relief actually, because it shed some light on why I react
the way I do, and it has also allowed me to tell Marko not to do it anymore. I know he is doing it teasingly, out of love,
but I really, really hate it. He said he
wouldn’t do it again. I think he thinks I
am making this shit up, but he will respect my wishes. Such a relief actually, I really hated that, and I always felt like I had to be on my guard.,
but it seemed so silly and petty to tell him not to do it.
Anyway, this has
got long. And is further proof that I really
am v odd. Odd, and just a little
sensitive to certain things in my environment. Just remember, whatever you do, do not come up to me and touch me
unexpectedly. I might just have to crack
your ribs ;-)
remember that I am not a big hugger. Nor do I like to shake your hand. Let’s just wave politely at each other from
afar. Hear that Melly and Melly – NO HUGGING!)
The TV show last
night was absolutely amazing. Way better
than I hoped for. I couldn’t sit still
before the show, I was so nervous it would come across as naff or boring, but
it was so tastefully done. I am so
My mother came
across brilliantly, as did my sister and best friend. But the real star of the show was Marko. He was outstanding. No one is ever going to believe me again when
I say that he is not a big chatter or a very emotional person. He was so genuine and so wonderfully eloquent. And he looked DAMN HOT.
But the best thing
about the show was that it was a beautifully moving tribute to Ben. When Ben died, I was too distraught to have a
memorial service. I was barely able to
put one foot in front of the other, and I knew I wouldn’t cope with having even
one more ounce of emotion. And I didn’t
want to be parted from his memory box and his ashes. It was the only thing I had left of him.
And then, a few
weeks later we did that last IVF and I got pregnant. And then it was the high
risk pregnancy, the first hectic year of twins, the book and I never got to
have that memorial service. Although it
sounds strange if you haven’t seen the show, last nights programme felt like
the perfect tribute to my son. It was so
amazingly done. I am so pleased that the
producer put this together, it is something I am going to treasure forever, and
something I am going to show Adam and Kate when they are ready to see it. So beautifully done.
Thank you Carol,
thank you thank you thank you. You are
brilliant. You did such a great job on
the show. Words just aren’t enough to
thank you for what you did. It was an
Phew. What an emotional time it has been. We are all exhausted.
**For a full transcript of the show, see here. I will also try get it uploaded to YouTube ASAP.
In memory of Ben, 4 January 2004 – 14 January 2004
Had fabulous time
at do. Looked gorgeous, obviously. (No photos, Marko is a pathetic
photographer. Never hiring him
again.) Got home at 12:30am. Kate woke up at 5:10am. V tired.
Shite. I think I need to come up with some deep and
meaning post. I need to sound
intelligent, mature and responsible and not like someone who drinks too much
wine and says the occasional (ok, maybe more than occasional) swearword.
Thing is, there
might just be a few people who will watch the TV show tonight. And perhaps they wonder over to my blog. Where they will find me talking about people
poo’ing at work and about how fond I am of my wine. Yes, that should win over a few new readers. Am v tempted to delete poo post, but
wont. (Was meant to be tongue in cheek, it really is fine with me if you poo
at work. It’s ok, we can still be friends.)
Perhaps I should do
a quick blog post pontificating about what I really think about the war in Iraq,
global warming and Africa’s debt issues etc, but I am too hung over and tired
to string more than three words together. However, the fact that I just used “pontificate” in casual conversation
should at least count for a few points.
PS: 38 years old
today. TWO years till forty. How the hell did that happen?
Barring a world event / natural disaster / something more newsworthy..... the Carte Blanche show should maybe hopefully might go out this Sunday. MNet 7pm. Am v v nervous about it. Will try and get it uploaded to YouTube. But only after I've seen what it's like.
Have a big work do on tonight, am leaving early for root touch up and blow job. Have new frock to wear. Should look v gorgeous. It better stop raining, or else blow job will be all for naught.
PS Happy Thanksgiving etc.
PPS Have I mentioned how fucking nervous I am about appearing on national TV? I think I am going to go lie down for a while.
I work in an open
plan office environment. It’s not quite
the cubicle maze / Dilbert-type set-up, but it’s open. And I share it with quite a few people.
Which causes me
great amounts of distress at times. Like
this morning. At 10am someone decided to
have fish for breakfast / brunch / early lunch. Fish! A
big plate of stinky fish! I do not want
to have to breathe in stinky fish fumes at 10am in the morning. I know it’s selfish (shellfish – hahaha!) but I
hate it when people eat stinky food at work. And even worse! When they heat up their stinky food in the communal
microwave and I have to put my food in there afterwards – fish flavoured warm
And while we are
at it, how about stinky poos in the work loo? I know that if you gotta go, you gotta go, but
can’t we have an arrangement where as a rule, poos are done at home, unless there
is an emergency? Even worse than the
fishy air pollution is being practically asphyxiated with someone else’s poo
fumes while trying to pee. I try not to
breathe in, but it is damn difficult to pee and hold my breath at the same time. Please people, poo at home!
It is hard enough
to deal with rush hour traffic, noisy offices and work pressures, but it is the
smell pollution that really spoils my day.
I must say, 22
months is not the best stage ever. I can’t believe that one can have so many
opinions about so many things when you’ve been around for less than two years.
I am living in
the hope that it somehow gets easier after two. Tell me it gets easier after 2.
I do feel sorry
for them, because it must be incredibly frustrating to know so clearly what you
want, and yet your mother is unable / unwilling to follow your stridently
with a simple “hmm”, or “yes” is not good enough. No, I have to repeat the exact word /
instruction they’ve just said in order for them to double check my
comprehension. Even when I have no idea
what a “bskt” is. Are you stupid,
Mother?? I want the bskt!!! Bskt bskt bskt bskt! (Oh, the BASKET! Sorry!)
It must be damn
tough to be 22 months old.
Logic, it would
appear, plays no role in your life. Neither
does any sense of danger.
You can not
understand why the round lid won’t fit on the square container and why your
mother can’t “fixit” when you tell her to. It doesn’t matter if those shoes you found packed away in your cupboard
are from last year and way too small, you want to wear them NOW. “on on on on”. Apparently repeating your command until it wears your mother down is a foolproof
way to get what you want. Once your
mother has managed to squash your foot into the too-small shoes, you will grin
broadly and hobble around the house in them.
absolutely no fear. You can’t understand
why you aren’t allowed to climb up on this thing, or rock on that or jump off there.
You’re apparently never allowed to have
any fun. Mother = spoilsport
When your brother
or sister is given an instruction to DON’T TOUCH THAT, it apparently means you
should do the exact opposite straight away. It clearly means ‘let me see what that thing is my brother / sister has just
been instructed not to touch’ After all, your mother wasn’t talking to YOU, now
You already have a strongly
defined dress sense. You know exactly
what you want to wear and it doesn’t matter if it isn’t appropriate for the
weather / occasion / coordination. And
beware if your mother or nanny attempts to dress you in something other than
The food that is
on your parent’s plate is far more interesting than your own. Even if it is the same thing you’ve got on
You will not want
a particular toy unless your sibling is playing with it. Then only that toy will do. You will cry and scream for it, and when you
do get it, you will play with it for less than 30 seconds and then toss it
You insist on
doing everything yourself. Even when you
can’t do it yourself, you will insist on trying anyway.