So Close

A disturbing afternoon

You know, I don’t realize and appreciate often enough how fortunate I am, and my kids are, to live the way we live. I live in this happy, comfortable suburban bubble, and I sometimes forget that there are so many less fortunate than we are.

 

Today we went to visit my in-laws, and suddenly we heard screaming, a female voice from across the road. Crying, begging, “don’t hit me”. Marko and I ran outside and my parents in law just rolled their eyes. Happens all the time, they said. We’ve called the cops, but nothing ever happens.

 

More shouts, more crying. He shouting at her, she shouting at him. Marko was ready to go in there and drag the guy out by his collar, but apparently the couple has told people to leave them alone. My father has tried to intervene, but he isn’t young anymore.

 

But what nearly broke my heart is that their three kids, two girls and a boy, all between the ages of 7 and 13, were riding their bikes right outside. Not saying anything, just riding around in circles. The little girl had tears streaming down her face, it nearly killed me. So surreal, a beautiful afternoon, stunning weather, kids on bikes…. juxtaposed with such heartache and ugliness.

 

So many emotions… ‘why doesn’t she just leave him’, but I know it is seldom as simple as that. Disgust. Despair. But mostly anger – how DARE they do that to their children. How DARE they! They can go off and kill each other, but how dare they do that to their children. HOW DARE THEY!! I wanted to run in there and shake both of them, I was so angry. And so helpless.

 

Eventually the yelling died down, and the kids went back inside. Life carried on around all of this. Surreal.

 

Such a disturbing afternoon, and such a big realization how very fortunate I am to have come from a home where we never had to endure any of that, and how very fortunate my children are to be raised the same.

 

I am tormented by the heartache these young children must face. My heart goes out to them; I hope they manage to find some peace and solace.

I *heart* Zofran and you

Thank you dear hearts, for your warm wishes and kind words.  And a big thank you especially to those who suggested the Zofran, I feel a million times better.  Of course, it could be because LN7 (lucky number 7) has died and not from the Zofran but lets hope it is the pill and not the dead baby thing. 

My children's first school pics, taken by the very talented Renee Frouws.  Aren't they just gorgeous. They get that from their mother.

A slow learner (PG ment)

So, about 4 weeks ago, on CD29 on my cycle, I got odd twitching in my nether regions and knowing how absolutely (ir)regular my cycle is, I immediately knew that this meant that I was either (a) about to get my period, (b) about to ovulate, (c) pregnant or (d) had once again indulged in too much dried fruit.

 

When nothing much happened the next day (except for the dried fruit bit), I forgot about it.

 

Fast forward to about two weeks later and I start getting more odd sensations, this time in the digestive system. Having learnt my lesson last time, I knew it couldn’t be the dried fruit, so I chalked it up to a bug. The bug made me feel extremely tired, a little pukey and a bit of an upset tummy. Eventually, after a rather delicious lunch of chardonnay and a gorgonzola, winter rocket, roast butternut and pancetta salad, I suddenly found myself feeling extraordinarily ‘unwell’.

 

That night I went to bed at 8pm and I lay there, mentally counting on my fingers and toes and worked out that I was on CD47. Nothing too alarming as my previous cycle had been 50 days and I tend towards anything between a 35 day cycle and a 110 day cycle.

 

And then I thought ‘what if’. What if I could be pregnant? The thought made me instantly more nauseous. THAT’S IT! I said to myself, I am going to pee on a stick tomorrow and then I am going to have that mirena fitted IMMEDIATELY. I really don’t want more children, I am perfectly happy with what I have, thankyouverymuch.

 

So, next morning, I climb over 2 little bodies and pee on the stick. Look down – farking stick is broken as the pee is not climbing up the window. Put stick down, wipe, flush, wash hands and pick stick up. Two BRIGHT lines. Oh my fucking fuck. 

 

I tell Marko and his loving response is “you fucking asshole”. I said “it is YOUR fault, you are the one who wanted to have sex”, to which he replied with unnecessary emphasis, “EVERYONE HAS SEX!!” 

 

So, I went for a beta that day. 7781. Which means absolutely nothing (besides me being pregnant) as I have no idea when I conceived. Next beta 11871. So, it is going up. I appear to be around 6 weeks. First scan last Thursday, one sac (praise the lord) and 1x beating heart (115bpm). Both sac and fetal pole measuring at 6w. 

 

Well. I am pregnant. I am in shock. I am also an extremely fucking slow learner because it is the THIRD time I have been pregnant in the last year and a half and do you think maybe I can actually get pregnant by having sex?? DUH.

 

But because I thought I was further and because this is my SEVENTH pregnancy with only ONE successful outcome, you’ll have forgiven me if I was a little gun shy. So I waited for a second scan (today) before sharing the news with anyone. 

 

Scan today showed 1x appropriately growing thingy. The embryo thingy that might maybe just could actually result in a baby.

 

The news has been met with varying reactions from “you are SUCH as asshole” (my sister, yes folks, the lordy one actually used the word ‘asshole’,) to “how did that happen” (I have no idea myself) to “oh, well, um. Ok. Well, good luck” (the most common reaction). Once bitten, 7 times shy, the lack of jubilation is understandable. 

 

Unfortunately, there isn’t much celebrating on this side either as I have been so, so, SO sick with all day nausea, headaches etc. It is RELENTLESS. Honestly, I’ve been pregnant with quads and with twins, and this is far worse than that. I have been feeling completely depressed about it. Which is why I haven’t been posting as well. I have been too sick to do anything. The doctor first prescribed one medication which did nothing, and I am going to try another one today. I hope it helps because I am absolutely useless. My poor kids keep asking me what is wrong and why I am so sick. 

 

So, that is my news. I feel very strange. Not at all excited, and quite detached. It is probably a defence mechanism, and it is also probably due to that fact that I feel so sick. It is really just such a shock. I know that sounds stupid, but I had expected to get pregnant, maybe. I hadn’t ever considered the possibility that being pregnant could end up in having another child.

 

It is still a loooong way to go, and my track record isn’t exactly stellar, but for now, I appear to be knocked up, once again. Who would have guessed.

 

PS if any former or current infertiles hate me for this, I understand. I hate myself for it too. It is pathetic and childish and frankly, quite embarrassing. 

Almost 40!

I can’t believe I am going to be 40 next month. I am not feeling sad about it, more incredulous than anything else. FORTY! How on earth did that happen? What happened to the last 20 years? I am sure I was 20 years old just last week or the week before.

 

It feels weird to be turning 40. It feels like a watershed year, but in a good way. It is actually quite liberating to let go of some of the angst of conformity of my twenties, and even my thirties.

 

In fact, as I get older, I find myself getting more and more comfortable with my inner oddness, which is not necessarily a good thing.  Last weekend I went to the shop in my stripey PJ pants, a stripey sweater and sneakers with stripes. I looked like an escaped convict, and I didn’t care. Who says you have to dress up or even coordinate your stripes? You are going to get milk and bread, not give a presentation on world peace.

 

My mother was horrified. She said she thinks it is time for her to intervene. The previous weekend I arrived at her house in navy blue shorts, an old T shirt, olive green sandals and socks, looking remarkably like a German tourist.

 

I know I should care more about what people think, but I just don’t. What I wear or how I look shouldn’t matter, it is what is on the inside that matters. What matters is that I am the best mother I can be for my kids, that I run a successful business, that I am in a good marriage, that I help others. That I am good and kind and caring. That I wash my bits and don’t smell. Wearing fancy clothes or make up is so meaningless, so unimportant in the grander scheme of things.

 

I just don’t get the whole ‘dressing up’ thing. I think I am bordering on eccentric, really. Oh well, can’t be perfect in EVERYTHING.

 

(My sister is seriously concerned for my daughter, who seems to be following in her mother’s footsteps)

 

My mom and I are having a combined 40^th and 60^th party next month, how cool is that. Can you believe my mom is only 20 years older than I am. When my mom was my age, she had a twenty year old child, the mind boggles. I can not imagine having a child at 20. And again at 22. And 26. And 32. My mom is Super Woman!

 

On that note, best I be off. Sorry I’ve been MIA this week, I have a lot going on right now. But I do love you and miss you terribly. Smooches xxxxxxxx

  My mom and I

Eyelash pulling?

Hello darling hearts, I am so terribly sorry I've been MIA.  Been feeling completely revolting, blah blah.  All very tiresome.

While I am busy feeling sorry for myself, please could you put your Mommy Assvice hats on and help a dear reader:

"Over the years of reading your wonderful, completely addictive blog, I'm often struck by how fantastic your readers are, especially when it comes to giving such great advice, and I need some! Would it be at all possible to pose a question to them?"

My (very spirited) little girl, 1 year 10 months, had an eye infection about 3 weeks ago. One morning I gently cleaned her eyelashes using my fingers and I suppose she liked the sensation. Since then she has been pulling on her eyelashes, especially when she is tired or before falling asleep. I took her to the eye dr who said that she can see crusts on her eyelids (not visible without a magnifier) and my daughter is probably trying to get them off. However it seems to me to be a calming behaviour that is turning into a habit. She's not pulling her eyelashes out on purpose (ie it's not trichotillomania), but she pulls so hard at them that they are coming out. I really want to break this habit before it becomes ingrained but I am at a loss. It's usually when she is in bed trying to fall asleep.  What I've found on the internet says to gently distract her, try to get her to do something else, or say "would you like me to clean your eyes with a cloth?". I've tried to give her a stuffed toy or doll to stroke but she chucks it out of the bed. So far none of this seem to be working. Any concrete advice from you or your readers would be really appreciated!

You never stop being a parent

I just spoke to my dad now, he is stressing that my brother bought a motorbike for himself.  My dad is 59 years old and my brother a grown, married man.  I guess you never stop worrying about your kids.  (Luckily *I* never give my parents any grey hairs; me being the angelic, well behaved sibling!)

Speaking about parenting, I am VERY excited to announce that I am going to be blogging over at the brand, spanking new Parent24 portal.  If you are a parent and you aren't yet blogging, get your worrying ass over to Parent24 blogs and start one up.  It's easy, safe, cosy and hugely fun!  Check out my Parent24 blog here.

The Flanders and the Analtyns go on holiday

The Flanders and the Analtyns are spending a week together on holiday at the end of the year. It should be fun. 

 

The Analtyns (us) are very anal (hence the name). The Flanders (my sister's family) not so much.

 

A while back my sister was thinking about buying a holiday home, and for approximately 0,5 seconds she considered whether we (her family and mine) should invest in one together. ‘It should be fun, you can go one weekend, we can go the next’. She soon came to her senses and realized it would be an unmitigated DISASTER.

 

If Marko and I had a holiday home, it will be spotless. The furniture would be in excellent condition, the place would be spick and span when we left. Everything would be in its place, replenished and ready for the next holiday.

 

If Mel and Gary had to have a holiday home, it would be full of hard wearing furniture, probably looking a bit worse for wear. It would be comfy, slightly chaotic, and wonderfully inviting. If you aren’t an Analtyn.

 

It would never, ever work. It wouldn’t be worth risking our relationship to have a joint holiday home. My husband would drive me INSANE. If you think I am uptight, you should see him.  Ok, so our house isn’t exactly like a museum and our kids aren’t what you would describe as the quiet, bookish types, but Marko is very meticulous about his stuff.  He is the type of guy you WANT to buy a used car from, he looks after his stuff really, really well. 

 

I can just imagine us getting there for our weekend and finding a mark on the couch, or no firewood left, or some miniscule scrape or dent somewhere. Not that the Flanders are messy, it is just that they aren’t on the same level of analness as us. There are very few people in the world who are. 

 

No thanks, a week away together is probably just about as much as I can handle.

 

(Rereading this, it sounds like I am saying the Flanders are messy, and that is not true. It is just that my husband is SO anal, that I know he would be moaning to me all the time about things not being perfect and I would be stuck in the middle. NO THANKS!)

Little Gates in Training

My family has a love / hate relationship with computers. I love computers, they hate them. Or more specifically, they hate how much time I spend on the ‘puter’. Ok, so maybe I am a little addicted.

In all seriousness, I think computers play a huge role today and I actually can’t wait to get my children computer literate.

 

I know technology can be dangerous, and I also know that too many children are spending way too much time in front of the (TV/computer) screen, but as with everything else in life, it is all about moderation. A word that is as familiar to me as my long lost cousin’s aunt’s husband’s second wife’s neighbour.

 

When do you think kids are old enough to start messing around on the ‘puter? My feeling is it is never too early to start grooming the next Bill Gates.

 

More important than American politics….

You see what I mean!!! I leave you alone for a minute and you are at it again! Fighting among yourselves about politics, tsk tsk. Would you like me to speak about religion next??? Huh?? Actually, now that I think about it, the religion thing came up a number of times in the ‘conversation’ about politics. Had no idea religion / which church they belong to / what their preacher said was such a big issue. I thought all the lordy folk would just be happy that the prospective leaders were lordy at all, but apparently you get lordy and then you get lordy. 

 

Anyway, moving on. Let’s discuss something even more important than the next president of the world America. Me!! 

 

You know how those meme things go around the blog world, right? ‘10 things you didn’t know about me’, Well, I could never complete one of those things because there isn’t any thing you DON’T know about me!!! You’ve seen my breasts, for goodness sake! But then I thought there is something you don’t know about me. Something so odd that I’ve been to embarrassed to tell you before. But it’s time. We need something drastic to distract you from the woes of Mccain and Palin vs Obama and that other chap whose name is hardly ever mentioned.

 

So here it is: I eat the same thing, every single day. The Same Meal, Every Single Day.

 

Every morning, I have low fat muesli with fat free milk. Every day. For lunch, I have avo with sweet chilli sauce on soya and linseed bread*, toasted. Every day. And for supper, I have a salad with lettuce, roast veg, feta or gorgonzola cheese, smoked chicken, peppadews, olives, corn etc. The ingredients may vary a little, but I have a salad every single night for supper. Except on Saturday nights, then Marko and I have sushi for supper. But otherwise it’s the salad. Every night.

 

I snack on all sorts of other shit during the day, which is why I carry the extra roll around the middle despite the low fat muesli and fat free milk etc. But the point is, I eat the same thing at every meal.

 

Is that odd? It is odd, isn’t it? I can’t help it! I don’t want to eat anything else! Nothing else tastes as nice as muesli, the avo-on-toast and the salad. If I don’t eat the salad, I get withdrawals.

 

So anyway, no point to this post, except for you to feel better about yourself and your political woes, because no matter how bad things might seem, there is always comfort in the fact that thank GOODNESS you aren’t as odd as that Tertia woman!

 

Now excuse me while I go shop for some more salad ingredients. 

 

* There are times, if I am feeling in a particularly adventurous mood, that I will swap the linseed bread for health bread.

 

PS if you are wondering whether this ‘same dish at every meal’ extends to my sex life, the answer is a definite NO! But because my husband has forbidden me to talk about our sex life on my blog, I’ll have to leave it there.