So Close

His turn

We had the first Cape Town Infertility support group meeting on Saturday, and it was a huge success. I think everyone had a great time and it was so heart warming to see how people make such real connections with each other. There was a LOT of talking going on at the tables. If anyone is interested in attending the next one, please email me.

Then last night, I attended the Cape Town Geeks Dinner. Lots of fun. Too many speeches and not enough time for bonding, but still had lots of fun. Am a little hung over today, on two glasses of wine! I am pathetic, no staying power what so ever. As some one said to me the other day, I am light on juice.

 Poor Marko, he has had to have lots of ‘turns’ lately. When I was running through the scheduled events for the week, he nearly had a heart attack when I told him that he would have to do the entire Saturday afternoon shift solo. Something he has never done previously.

Him: Who is going to look after the kids on Saturday?
Me: You
Him: You have obviously not thought this through properly
Me: Yes I have, you can look after them. As we discussed; when they were little, I would do it, but once they get older then you would be fine to do it. They are two now, you’ll be fine
Him: I meant older than 16 (he was joking here)

 Marko helps me out so much around the house. He is also great with the kids but up until recently he hasn’t actually done too many kid shifts on his own.

 When they were little, I did all the hands on baby things, and he did all the admin and supportive things. Like bottles, tidying etc. It suited us, it worked for us and I have never spoken about it here since I spoke about it the first few times, when some people laid into Marko and said nasty things about him. Which I will not tolerate.

 Marko, for various reasons, just couldn’t do the baby thing. Not because he didn’t love them, or because he didn’t want to, but it was just too overwhelming for him. Babies are pretty scary. Twins are even scarier. And as I am sure you might remember, Adam was an industrial-strength enema when he was a baby. Yes, some men are hands on; some men love it, and some men even do the entire baby thing on their own. Marko is not ‘some men’.

 (Hey, I’ve just realized how much easier Adam has become! Yay! Had forgotten how much hard work he was as a baby. It really does get easier!)

 Although it was often really hectic for me, it suited us to manage our family in this way. I didn’t mind doing all the baby things, in fact I loved it.

 But …. the understanding all along was that when they got older, when they could speak and understand, Marko would start doing some solo baby shifts. In my head, I had the age of two in mind. They turned two last month and I have slowly been letting go. And without actually discussing it, Marko has done more and more of the hands-on solo baby stuff.

 I must say, it has been quite bloody marvellous. I have been to blame, to a large degree that it hasn’t happened up until now, because I haven’t wanted to let go. You know that old attitude of: No one takes care of my kids as well as I do, and so I prefer doing it myself? But that is not the right attitude to have, and not fair on Marko, the kids or myself, to be honest.

 And so I have decided it is time for a change. They are now two (sixteen?? Where is he going with sixteen??), and I am taking full advantage of the situation. Support group meetings, dinners …… YAY! Me skipping off into the sunset, bottle of wine in hand, throwing instruction lists in my wake, waving goodbye to the tearful trio of father and kids without so much of a moment of hesitation. See you later, have fun!

 Yes, it’s time. It’s his turn now.

 (And by the way, Marko is doing a fabulous job, no one has died, the kids love it and why didn’t I do this before!!!)

 

Because she doesn’t have a bike …..

…she runs. And because she had two tiny, premature babies who survived their early birth, she knows just important prematurity awareness is.

 Please support Janine in her efforts to raise awareness for BLISS, a charity focused on prematurity.

 

BLISS – The Premature Baby Charity

Did you know that one in eight babies is born sick or premature? You probably all know someone whose baby was born ill or preterm. And did you know that around a quarter of these babies need intensive care? Or that the figure is rising?  Yes, more and more babies are born every year prematurely or have a very low birthweight and need specialist medical help to survive.

BLISS is a leading charity which was established over 26 years ago by a group of concerned parents. BLISS is committed to improving survival chances for sick and premature babies and ensuring they have the best quality of life. BLISS provides funding for innovative medical research into causes of prematurity and campaigns for improvements in neonatal care. They provide practical and emotional support for parents and fund professional development and training in the field of neonatal care.  They are dedicated to raising awareness of the issues affecting premature babies.

Janine Canham, a mother of premature babies who has lived in Hong Kong for 16 years, is running  in the London Marathon on 22^nd April, 2007 to raise vital funds and awareness for BLISS.

Janine, a lawyer who also runs The Nanny Experts, has twin sons who were born 3 months premature, weighing just 2lbs 11oz (1.2 kgs) and 2lbs 5oz (1.05 kgs). They spent 10 weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit at the Queen Mary Hospital.  They are now healthy toddlers and Janine is running with the aim of helping other preemies survive and do as well as her sons, Josh and Sam.

To sponsor Janine in the London Marathon

and to support BLISS, please visit www.janinecanham.com.  All donations, however big or small, will make a difference to help save the lives of sick and premature babies and improve their quality of life.

Your help and support is invaluable.

You can read more about BLISS on their website www.bliss.org.uk

I’ve created a monster

I’ve told you before that Marko and I don’t fart in front of each other. We just don’t do it. I don’t actually think Marko does fart, at all. I’ve never heard (or smelt) him fart. I of course pretend I don’t fart either. But we both know I do.

 Anyway, as a result of all this non-farting going on, my kids have no idea what ‘fart’ means. My sister’s kids know what fart means. I am sure it is because sister Mel* is a HUGE farter (and not because she has a 10 year old son who thinks farts are the funniest thing ever). She farted in Foschini (clothing store) once when we were teenagers. Don’t tell her I told you. She’ll deny it of course, but she did it! In public! In Foschini!

 The kids are big farters, as most kids are. Whenever they fart I say “hey, you farted!” and they look at me blankly. So I’ve made it my mission to teach them what ‘fart’ means.

 Two nights ago, Kate farted in the bath. So I laughed and said, “hey, you farted!” (Why are farts so funny?) And she did another one, and I said to her “that noise coming out your bum is called a fart”. And then she did another one and said "fart". I clapped my hands in response and exclaimed “clever girl!” I meant clever girl that you learnt what fart means. She clearly thought I meant clever girl you can fart on demand.

 Last night she comes running into the room, scrunches up her face and farts loudly and then laughs, claps her hands together and says “FARTED!”

 She then lifts my top, points at my cooter (we haven’t quite finalized exactly where farts come from, all we know is that the noise comes from the general area down below) and says “Mama fart?”

 Marko says it is my own fault. She is going to walk around in public pointing at my cooter saying “Mama farted!”

 I’ve created a monster! A self-applauding farting monster!

(Isn't it amazing:  even at two years old, you get boy bum and girl bums.  Adam's is small and pert, Kate's is bigger and softer.)

As to what they were doing in the picture .... looking for goggas (bugs) in the garden.  The boots were their choice (boots on, Mama, boots on), despite it being the height of summer. 

* V v exciting news, my sister has moved her blog across to Typepad.  She is now able to do her own posts and will do regular updates. I am v proud of her for getting over her fear of things computer related and doing this on her own.  I am v fond of her, even if she farted in Foschini.

 

Cyclists: A serious bunch.

I was joking, people. Taking the piss, messing about, farting around after a glass or two of wine.

I really am sorry if the post upset you. It certainly wasn't meant to. 

I don’t really hate cyclists. Really, promise, crossmyheart hopetodie. I think it is a fantastic way of getting outdoors and getting some exercise.  I am extremely envious about your self-discipline. If I had half of that, I wouldn’t be sitting on my lazy ass every day.

I never have, or ever will, intentionally endanger or harm any cyclist.  (The insinuation that I might is frankly quite offensive) I never rush past them; I always wait for them to get to place where they can safely move over.  Yes, even if they are riding 17 abreast.

 I do care about what air my kids breathe.  I am fully supportive of environmental efforts.  So is my country. Just because I find ill-disciplined cyclists a tiny little bit annoying (AND I WAS JOKING, some of my best friends are cyclists), doesn't mean I don't care about the environment, rain forests and the greenhouse effect. And yes, cyclists too. 

 And while I think cyclists have HOT legs and yummy bodies (I love that lean look), I am afraid to admit that I have never liked shaved legs on a man.  Sorry about that.

 There, feel better now? 

 Mental note to self: Do NOT mess around with the cyclists. They get very cross.

 

Your bike is in my way

I hate cyclists. I’m sorry if you are one. I don’t hate YOU, but I do hate those annoying fuckers who think it is their right to ride 17 abreast on a narrow road. It is SOOOO fucking annoying. Drives me bat-shit. I am forced to drive at minus 45 km’s an hour because you want to ride your bike up the hill?  I don’t think so. Move over.

This time of the year is especially irritating. Cape Town hosts the world’s largest individually timed cycle race (I looked that up) in March. 35,000 mentally insane people forget they have a car, dress up in lycra for the day and cycle for 110 km’s / 68 miles on their fancy schmancy bicycles. In-sane. Do they not have a car? Masochists.

I don’t mind the actual race.  It raises money for charity and is good for tourism etc etc, but the lead up to the race is v annoying.  All of a sudden, everyone is a cyclist and the roads are adorned in lycra-clad middle aged bike riders. 

I think there should be rules for cyclists. They should only allowed to ride on roads that have a (what is that thing called on the side? The yellow lines bit?) shoulder! Or margin. Whatever it is called, but I think cyclists should only be allowed to ride their bikes on roads that have space for them.  No space, no bike. Sorry for you.

No, I must say, I am not particularly fond of cyclists.  Besides the whole arrogant rod-hog behaviour (don’t you find that cyclists are mostly arrogant little fuckers!), I hate that whole lycra look. And lets be honest, that shaved legged thing on men is v v unattractive. Lots of closet shit going on there.

If you want to dress funny and ride your bike outdoors, that is fine. It is your democratic right to look like a complete ponce. But please don’t take over the road. Roads are for cars, not for bikes.  And that is all I have to say on the subject. Now, MOVE OVER!

A plastic surgeon would have been useful

Email conversation with a friend of mine last night:

 Friend:
Reading your blog reminded me, to let you know that my brother has a jewelry business at __________. So if you ever want or need anything, you don't have to pay __________ prices. ….

 Me:
you dont have a brother who is a plastic surgeon by any chance?

 Friend:
would I have a fat arse and double chin if I had a brother who was a plastic surgeon?????

 Me:
my brother is a barman.*  which is nice, but you know, that boob op thing would have been better

 *My brother is not really a barman, he runs a very popular bar / club / venue thing in London. But they don’t do boob ops there. He did however send me a wireless router in the mail yesterday, so although I have small, sad boobs, I do have wireless connection in my house. He is not totally without use.  He is actually my favourite brother in the whole world. Only. But favourite anyway.

 

Disability Logistics

You know how you just 'click' with some people?  Well I just 'click' with Billie.  I have always liked her and I admire her enormously, I think she is one of the most honest, bravest, mature people I 'know'*.

She needs some advice from people who have experience with children with disabilities.  Please go by her blog and offer your advice. Or just go check out her gorgeous girls.

*Isn't it funny how you sometimes forget you don't actually know these friends of yours inside the computer.  You know the intimate details of their thoughts, hopes and fears and yet you don't really 'know' them at all.  Not that it stops you from saying things like "I have this friend who ......  Well, someone I know...... Well, I don't actually KNOW THEM know them, but I read their blog ..... Anyway, as I was saying..."  I have lots of 'friends'.

Tennis bracelet, diamond ring or new boobs?

Marko likes nice things. Don’t we all.  He takes huge pride in looking good and having good things.  I think he cares too much what other people think; he probably thinks I care too little.  He doesn’t like nice things just because of what other people think (so he says), he genuinely does take pride in his possessions. But yes, he is a bit of a label-whore.

 Me on the other hand… I couldn’t be bothered.  I used to be somewhat of a label-whore, back when I was young and rich, but now I am old and poor and I simply cannot justify spending an extra xx bucks just because it is a brand name make. I am way too miserly for that.

 I’ll give you a perfect example.  Marko and I bought sunglasses about 5 years ago. At the time we were flush with cash (i.e. pre kids). The sunglasses store was having a special on some super trendy sunglasses so we each bought a pair. Marko was happy because he had the brand name stamped on the frame and I was happy because we managed to save X amount of money.  Never mind that we actually spent X+ amount of money on the total purchase, that never matters to me.  We saved money on the buy!  Bargain!  Can not resist a ‘bargain’.

 Anyway, four years on and both of our glasses had broken.  We needed new glasses but money has been really tight and we can’t really afford spending a shit load of money on sunglasses, but both of us felt we should get a decent pair. Which costs money.

 For the whole of last summer we both squinted into the glare without sunglasses until I said ‘bugger that, lets spend some money on new glasses’.  At the time I needed new spectacles as well (covered by medical insurance), and after my eye test etc, it was time to choose frames. I told the eye-person to work out exactly how much cover I had, and only show me frames that would fit into the covered amount.  Thrifty Tertia. As she was showing me the various options my eye caught a sign that said SPECIAL OFFER!  BUY XYZ FRAMES AND CHOOSE A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES TO THE VALUE OF 2000 BUCKS (Rand, not dollars) FOR FREE’.  I said to her “I’ll have one of those frames please”.

 The choice of sunglasses wasn’t great but I was determined to find a pair that I liked, no matter what.  Free! I love ‘free’.

 I was ecstatic with my bargain-basement brilliance and magnanimously told Marko he should get himself some sunglasses as well. 2.5 seconds later he was at the shop. He comes home with a pair of Prada sunglasses!!! WTF! Apparently they were the most comfortable, best fit. Yeah whatever. SUCH a label-whore. Here I am saving us 2000 bucks and he spends it on some wanky poncy label.

 Anywayyyyyyy, (glass of wine down so v chatty now), the story I was actually trying to tell you about, was the tennis bracelet, diamond ring or boob story.  Jeez, talk about a long intro.

 When my sister got engaged, she came to show us her diamond ring. It was a fair bit bigger than mine. Marko immediately said ‘we must buy you a bigger diamond’ (he was joking, but there was definitely a little smoke to that fire).  I said ‘over my dead body’. Then my other sister got engaged, with an even bigger diamond.  He said the same thing. I told him I would have to kill him first.  I am NOT wasting money on a ring. There is nothing wrong with my ring. (hahahaha!  "ring!"      Childish.  Sorry.)

 Then it was my little brother’s wedding a few weeks ago.  As a pre-wedding gift he bought his fiancé a tennis bracelet.  As a surprise. Personally I would have killed my husband-to-be if he had wasted so much of our money on a bracelet but not everyone is as unromantic as I am.

 My brother is 26. His wife is younger than he is and everyone at the wedding was about 700 years younger than I am.  The girls were all young, tanned, slim with the most amazing breasts I have ever seen.  Just about every one of them had boob jobs. Gorgeous, perky breasts. I was very envious. My sister and I asked some of the girls if we could see their boobs.  They let us. I told Marko that I also want boobs like that. Damn, those boobs were gorgeous.  (Marko was VERY upset he missed the boob-exhibition)

 After the wedding Marko and I wondered around the mall (this after I had leopard-crawled my way into the shop to buy a new T shirt because SOMEBODY forgot my overnight suitcase at home). We stopped at display window of some fancy-shmancy jeweller. (Marko loves to torture himself by looking at the expensive watches etc. Masochist. Why would you want to look at things you can’t afford?).

 He turned around to me and said “if I had to give you 20,000 bucks to spend, what would you spend it on: a new diamond ring, a tennis bracelet or a boob job..”

 “Boobs” I interjected immediately

 He started repeating the question and I said “no, I heard you, my answer is new boobs”. 

Those boobs sported by the young women at the wedding were outstanding.  Never in a million years would I ever choose a bloody tennis bracelet or diamond ring over new boobs.  There is no question. Marko couldn’t believe how little deliberation there was. 

 I am dead keen for a new set of perky boobs.  I toyed with the idea a while back then kind of wrote it off but I am reinspired now.  I want those boobs. Keep the diamonds, give me new boobs!

 What would you choose, if I gave you 20,000 bucks (local currency - which is what a boob job costs here).  Would you choose the ring, the bracelet or the boobs?

 I am going to do a poll as well

 I am also going to get another glass of wine.  Nighty night.

Infertility advice

Can you help this reader?

A while back we emailed you regarding S my wife and our strive for children. She is now 42 and we have just tried our first IVF. We had 6 follicles, which went down to 4, then had 2 eggs, but only one fertilized. We went today for implantation to be told by Dr X that the egg did not divide. Dr X said that our chances are not good, as everything points to the same thing…in his view poor egg quality. By way of history, S and I have been trying with fertility drugs for 2 years to no avail. We had a brief stop and S fell pregnant. However when we expected to see the heart beat it didn’t so she had to have an evacuation.

 We decided that we would begin IVF in 2007. Dr X is worried about egg quality, as we only had 2 eggs to fertilize then only one took, but didn’t divide. We have some questions for you and your readers if you don’t mind:

•  After 2 years or so of drugs to stimulate the ovaries, we are wondering how that effects egg quality ? Maybe it would be a good idea to rest the ovaries for a while before trying IVF again - can you shed any light on this ?

• When we begun IVF it was just after a very short 1 day period that was 6 days early. Of the two eggs, one didn’t fertilize as the embryologist said that the egg was immature. We are wondering whether the fact that it was a v.short period may have affected the IVF process ? Perhaps it wasn’t even a period at all, because it was only one day of bleeding?

• We insisted on doing IVF despite Dr X suggesting we do another 2 artificial inseminations first. Does this make any sense to you if the issue is one of egg quality due to age ? 

• Do you or your readers have any advice for us regarding IVF, S’s age and where we should go from here? The doctor said we have a poor chance purely because of age? I would like to know how many people have had IVF at 42 and have been successful?

What advice would you have for this couple?

Cape Town infertility support group get together

(click on the image to make it bigger and the writing more legible or download the PDF here Download stork_group.pdf