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My little nerd rebels

My husband likes to say that I was a nerd at school, something I vehemently deny.  But although I would never admit it out loud, there is a possibility that I might have been somewhat nerdy at school.  Actually, thinking about it, I was probably a little on the nerdy side.  I never smoked at school, all the cool kids did. I didn't have many (any) boyfriends, all the cool girls had the cool boyfriends.  (Remember when the naughty kids were cool and the good kids were like, SO uncool?  How silly is that.) Hell, even when I did drugs in my wild twenties, I did it responsibly.  I kept my managerial job throughout, never stole money from my mother’s purse or sold my sister's bike for drug money. Mostly because my sister was grown up and didn't have a bike and because I wasn’t staying with my mom. So yes, perhaps I've always been a bit on the nerdy side.  In a really, really cool sort of way.

Among other less fortunate traits my kids have inherited from me (not caring about dress sense, favouring comfort over style etc etc), it appears my kids have inherited my nerdy side.  Last night, after lights out, they took off their PJs!  Which in itself isn't a very naughty thing to do, but it is winter here so it was kind of naughty.  This morning when they woke up I asked them where their PJs were and they replied with a grin that they had taken them off the night before.  "But don't worry mom” they exclaimed, “we kept our vests* on!" 

That's my children!  Go ahead and be rebellious, but make sure you keep your chests warm.

*We can them vests here, not sure what you call them? Long sleeve underwear thingies you wear in winter to keep your bits (chest/arms etc) warm. 

Exercise for the elderly

When I am not pregnant, I am quite 'good' about eating well.  I don't eat junk food, I don't splurge on cake and chips. But when I am pregnant (all 7 times), I let my hair and all other body parts down. It is a free for all, and like a bargain shopper on Sales Day, I go crazy. 

Which is all good and (s)well, but it does make the 'pregnancy weight' rather hard to lose.  The weight relating to the actual pregnancy (baby, placenta, a kilo or two of water) is easy. Comes off within a few months.  The 17,000 donuts I ate:  takes a bit longer.

And of course, as one gets older, the lardy ass is harder to get rid of.  Do I regret those extra 16,999 donuts that I ate but didn't really need?  A little, I suppose.  But you know what, you are only pregnant a few times (you know, like SEVEN times) in your life and you might as well enjoy it.

Anyway, so now I sit with an extra kilo or ten that I have to get rid of.  And because I suck at denying myself life's essentials like wine and chocolate, I decided that my next best bet would be gym.  So I joined a gym.  As you know.  About two months ago.  I've been twice - once to do that godawful body fat assessment thing *shudder*, and a second time to swipe my card. To keep up my membership.  Oh wait! I've been a third time!  I signed up for swimming lessons for my kids! (Yes, my kids are four and they are only now getting swimming lessons. I suck)

Clearly that strategy (sign up at gym/never actually go) wasn't working for me, so on the advice of a good friend in the computer, I decided that I would sign up for a personal trainer.  If in doubt, throw money at the problem.

I called the "Personal Training Manager" at the gym to find out more about signing up with a personal trainer.  I told her I am a 40 year old working mother and I would like someone who would understand what my specific requirements are.  I said I was not interested in a spotty 18 year old beefcake with big biceps and a small penis.  Ok, I didn't really say that small penis thing, but don't all those beefcake gym boys have small penises?  From all the steroids they take?  No? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't want a young guy (or a small penis). I would prefer a woman, and someone who is a bit older than 12.

"Well", says the sweet sounding Personal Training Manager from the gym, "then I would recommend Maryka".  Oh good, I say.  Why would you specifically recommend her?  And then she replies, and I quote:  "She is used to working with the elderly"

Hahahaha!!!  OMG, I nearly peed in my 2-sizes-bigger elasticated-waistband pants!  "The Elderly"!!!  SHE IS USED TO WORKING WITH THE ELDERLY!

Oh dear.  I am an elderly 40 year old, mother of three.  Life really is over, isn't it.  Now forgive me, I think it is time for my lie down.

(In the Personal Training Manager's defence, based on her accent, I think she is Afrikaans and might have been translating directly from Afrikaans - but still, it was bloody funny.  I had such a good laugh)

Gym Barbie

Not sure if I told you, but a joined the gym two months ago. I am determined to get back in shape and lose the extra 297 kilograms I gained during my pregnancy. I know I will never have the body of an 18 year old again; I just don't want to weigh the equivalent of three medium-sized 18 year olds.

Anyway, my decision to join the gym was met with much derision and ridicule by my friends and family (including, I might say with some dismay, my very own husband. Oh he of little faith and annoyingly high libido).  “You! Going to gym!” they scoffed.  “But you hate gym, bet you won’t go!”  I was quite put out and told them so in no uncertain terms.  “absolute rubbish! Of course I will go, you just wait and see!”

Turns out, they were right. It’s been two months and I have not been once.  I have however been for an assessment (appalling! Embarrassing actually!), plus I have bought a fabulous new pair of trainers.  All I need now are eighties style leg warmers, high cut leotard and a toweling headband and I am ready to hit that gym!  I think that shows that although I might not have yet done any actual exercise, I have shown remarkable commitment so far.  What a winner I am!

Oh, who am I fooling – I suck. The only thing that sucks more than me is gym.  Gym sucks a whole lot.

But I will go, I will not give up.  I will not give up because I have signed a bloody contract for a year and I will be damned if I am going to waste ninety ront a month.

I think my problem is twofold. Actually three fold.  One:  Time. I have zero time. In fact, I have minus time. I have significantly less time than I currently need.  Two:  I have very little enthusiasm, as in zero. As in: I’d have more enthusiasm to repeatedly stab a sharp object into my eye socket.  Three: I have bugger all idea what to do once I get there, and I think that is what is putting me off. What is the point of going and wondering around like a lost fart between those enormous walking / stepping machines.  I think I need to invest in a personal trainer.  Someone who can gently encourage me (ie force me) to stick to a program of some sorts. Because you know, spending an extra R1,000 bucks a month in order not to waste R90 a month makes perfect sense.

What do you guys think?  A personal trainer is a good idea, right?  To show me what to do, work out a program and motivate me to get going.

I have to say I am having slight tinges of regret about those extra 17 donuts and burgers I ate each day of my nine month pregnancy.  It was delicious and all, but bloody hell, it’s damn difficult to get rid of the evidence.

Checking an old To Do list

One of my lovely blog readers (and a friend of mine), Adi, found an old To Do list of mine, from two years ago, when I did an FET (frozen embryo transfer IVF). Which obviously didn't work. "Things I am going to do when this 'trying for a baby' shite is over". Was it really only two years ago? I can't believe it. How my life has changed since then!

I though I would see how I am doing on that To Do list, two years down the line:

1. File my tax return. Or at least, get all my receipts to my tax consultant. WAY over due. Way. Am queen procrastinator. Hate that about myself. Done
   
2. Tidy my study. I am tired of receiving final demands for bills lost in the pile. Done
3. LOSE SOME WEIGHT!!! Yuck. Done, but need to redo
   
4. See a shrink about going back on the happy pills. Can’t live like this. Done!!! Very successfully - thank you Cipramil!
   
5. Fix up my hair. The dark hair is not working. Done, but redid - hair now dark again, see pic below
   
6. Immediately stop spending as if there is no tomorrow. Not done Sort out overdraft. Done Make a budget etc.Not done
7. Tidy my cupboards. Give away the stuff I will never wear again Done!
8. Pack away all the baby stuff for good. Sob. Done, and gave away all the baby stuff.  Because you know, I was done. Not suspecting I would have a baby ever again. 
   
9. Drink wine. As if I have ever stopped. Done - ongoing
   
10. Try to stop drinking so much. Haha!  Silly me.
11. Make an effort to look after myself some more. Start liking myself again. Hmm, 'ish
12. Order those multivitamins. Done
13. Focus hard on my job and catch up with all the things I have been putting off Done
14. Tidy the play room. Give away the toys they never play with. Done!  Donated bags and bags and bags of the stuff
    
15. Find a decent / appropriate play school for the kids. Done
16. Book the kids into a good primary school Done
17. Be kinder to my husband. This will require some effort as he is acting like a total fucking DICKHEAD at the moment. Asshole. Will have to copy and paste for this year's To Do list
    
18. Go for that massage I have been promising myself. I know it costs money, but I need it. Done
19. Try and be happy again and live in the moment. Done'ish

Not too bad actually, I've done fairly well I would say. 

Things I didn't have on the To Do list, but did anyway:

1. Have a baby
2. Buy a new house
3. Start a successful business

All in all, a pretty good two years ;-)

Me with dark hair - a sneak peek as these are part of a set professional pics done for a magazine, due out in September, so shouldn't be posted them yet, (and not the best pic of the set) but it is just a glimpse at the dark hair. I like the dark hair, I know blonde probably looks better, but I couldn't be arsed about doing the roots every 4 weeks.  So I am staying dark for now:

1. File my tax return. Or at least, get all my receipts to my tax consultant. WAY over due. Way. Am queen procrastinator. Hate that about myself. Done
   
2. Tidy my study. I am tired of receiving final demands for bills lost in the pile. Done
3. LOSE SOME WEIGHT!!! Yuck. Done, but need to redo
   
4. See a shrink about going back on the happy pills. Can’t live like this. Done!!! Very successfully - thank you Cipramil!
   
5. Fix up my hair. The dark hair is not working. Done, but redid - hair now dark again, see pic below
   
6. Immediately stop spending as if there is no tomorrow. Not done Sort out overdraft. Done Make a budget etc.Not done
7. Tidy my cupboards. Give away the stuff I will never wear again Done!
8. Pack away all the baby stuff for good. Sob. Done, and gave away all the baby stuff.  Because you know, I was done. Not suspecting I would have a baby ever again. 
   
9. Drink wine. As if I have ever stopped. Done - ongoing
   
10. Try to stop drinking so much. Haha!  Silly me.
11. Make an effort to look after myself some more. Start liking myself again. Hmm, 'ish
12. Order those multivitamins. Done
13. Focus hard on my job and catch up with all the things I have been putting off Done
14. Tidy the play room. Give away the toys they never play with. Done!  Donated bags and bags and bags of the stuff
    
15. Find a decent / appropriate play school for the kids. Done
16. Book the kids into a good primary school Done
17. Be kinder to my husband. This will require some effort as he is acting like a total fucking DICKHEAD at the moment. Asshole. Will have to copy and paste for this year's To Do list
    
18. Go for that massage I have been promising myself. I know it costs money, but I need it. Done
19. Try and be happy again and live in the moment. Done'ish

Not too bad actually, I've done fairly well I would say. 

Things I didn't have on the To Do list, but did anyway:

1. Have a baby
2. Buy a new house
3. Start a successful business

All in all, a pretty good two years ;-)

Me with dark hair - a sneak peek as these are part of a set professional pics done for a magazine, due out in September, so shouldn't be posted them yet, (and not the best pic of the set) but it is just a glimpse at the dark hair. I like the dark hair, I know blonde probably looks better, but I couldn't be arsed about doing the roots every 4 weeks.  So I am staying dark for now:

Hair today, hair tomorrow

Firstly, may I just take a moment to say MY DAD IS HOME!!!!!!  Home and doing very well.  You have no idea how effing wonderful it is to say that.  It has been an absolutely harrowing time.

Then, back to our regular programming.  I need to discuss something of national importance with you: my hair.

I have interesting hair.  Schizophrenic hair. Confused hair.  Half my hair thinks it is curly and the other half straight. It makes for an interesting look.  Combined with my confused hair is a complete lack of any desire to spend more than 2,5 seconds 'doing' my hair every day. In fact, my entire repertoire of 'doing my hair' consists of running a comb through it and tying it up.  Oh, and please note:  I've had the same 'style' (used in the loosest sense of the word) for the last 10 years.

It is time for a change, however I have a small problem and its name is Marko.  My husband, lover of things staying the same forEVER, is not at all keen for me to cut my hair.  He doesn't mind short hair, just not on his wife.  Over the years I've raised the subject halfheartedly a few times, but the response has always been the same - not on your life!  I have no idea why because my hair is tied up all the time, so what difference will it make? 

I tested the waters recently by coming home with a wig on.  I thought (and my mother agreed) that I looked absolutely fantastic with the wig on ("at least 10 years younger!" according to my mother), but my husband was Not Amused! At all!  He was quite cross in fact. I had to calm him down by giving him a turn with the wig. 

I liked the style, and I agree - I do think it makes me look younger and certainly fresher, but one thing I have learnt over the years with my husband - I pick my battles, and this battle is not (yet) worth fighting for. Partly because his opinion is important to me, and partly because I suspect keeping the hair looking lovely would require Effort, something I am short on when it comes to my hair.

So back my question (I am rambling here, sorry. It is late and I have had wine) - As part of easing my husband into a new look over the next 17 years, I was thinking about having my hair straightened. I've heard about some bionic iron / ionic or whatever thingy that you can do to have your hair permanently straightened? Does it work on confused hair?  Will it straightened the little bits and pieces that tend to go frizzy? Does is ruin your hair and make it all brittle like a perm does? Anyone have any experience with this?

Fun with the wig (unfortunately I didn't get a pic of Marko in the wig - NOT a good look Muriel)

My body is clearly a very slow learner

** Warning: Body fluids mentioned **

If you are a guy, please do not continue reading. If you are a guy and you also happen to be my father, PLEASE do not continue reading. Thanks.

I went for my six week check up this week (yes I know! Can you believe it has been six weeks already!!)  The doctor asked whether I had stopped bleeding and I said "well, yes, I had stopped bleeding, but I've started again. It's very odd, could it be a period?" The doctor said that as I wasn't breastfeeding, it could possibly be a period. 

She check my bits and declared that all seemed to be in working order. (Let's not tell my husband, shall we.)  She then check my lining and my ovaries and casually mentions "oh yes, there is the follicle, you have ovulated, so it must be a period"

WTFF!!!  I have ovulated?  Less than 6 weeks after giving birth??  For five long years I couldn't ovulate for love or (lots and lots of) money and NOW I ovulate? NOW when my reproductive system has gone into forced retirement? It really isn't funny, I am NOT amused.

All I can say is thank bloody goodness I had my tubes tied because wouldn't that have been the height of irony if I got pregnant again.   

*Max has his 6 week check up tomorrow, can't wait to hear how much he weighs now and whether I can make him a sandwich and a packet of chips instead of endless bottles of formula.

Porridge brain

It is true.  Once you give birth, you lose 50% of your brain capacity.  It only partially returns. 

I have been incredibly doff (SA slang for stupid / slow / thick / intellectually challenged) lately. 

On Friday I tried to recharge my electric tooth brush, but no matter how long I left it in the charger, it remained flat. I couldn’t use the stupid thing.  I tried my old toothbrush in the charger, but it didn’t want to charge. I was furious.  I went out and bought another electric toothbrush on Saturday (bloody expensive), all the while composing an indignant letter in my mind addressed to Oral B. “Dear Oral B. I am a loyal customer of many years.  A month ago… blah blah blah”.  As I was about to look up their email address online, I suddenly had a thought.  I wonder if perhaps I hadn’t quite plugged the charger in correctly.  Tried again and oops.  The toothbrush is working. So now I have three electric toothbrushes.  The old one, the new’ish one and the brand new one.  All three work. How useful to have three electric toothbrushes.

On Sunday morning I discovered I had run out of ADSL (broadband internet). Here in South Africa you purchase a certain volume and if you run out, you have to buy more.  So I went online using my mobile / 3G and tried to purchase another gig.  The stupid input form kept saying I had entered my credit card number incorrectly. I retried a few times, still no joy.  I then walked all the way downstairs to fetch another credit card, same error message. By now I am getting cross. I phone the helpdesk and had a big moan at the operator. Blah blah ridiculous, site not working, blah blah and as I am speaking to her I suddenly notice that I am putting in my name in the credit card field and my credit card number in the name field.  I changed them around and within 0.2 seconds, I had my extra gig.  I mumbled something about ‘trying one more time’ and hung up. 

The list goes on, but they are too embarrassing to admit.  I really do hope my brain returns soon.

I leave you with Kate’s latest work of art, a friendly monster.  (She only ever draws monsters. Luckily most of them are friendly.)

 

Losing the baby weight

When I am pregnant, I eat.  Normally (i.e. when not pregnant) I am quite good at staying at my ideal weight and eating lettuce leaves etc, but pregnancy is my time to indulge.  I eat all the things that I don't normally allow myself to eat - cake, chips, chocolate, milkshakes etc.  I don't eat whole cakes in one sitting (not often at least), but I eat things I wouldn't normally. It is one time I have an excuse to have a sticky-out belly, and I embrace that belly with gusto.  Which means I tend to gain more than the recommended weight gain while pregnant. 

So here I am, 4 weeks postpartum and the great news is that I have lost all the baby weight I gained while I am pregnant - all 12 kgs / 25lb that could be accounted for by things baby-related (actual baby / placenta etc). Now all I have to do is lose the additional 12 kgs / 25lb I gained due to aforementioned pigging out.  This is the not-so-fun part.  But even with the not-so-fun bit afterwards, it was still worth enjoying every morsal while pregnant.

I am not always very kind to myself, bodywise. I am my own worse critic and I often feel 'fat', or 'ugly', even though my logical brain tells me I am not. But as I get older I get gentler with myself and I have decided that at age 40, after three children and many pregnancies (and at 4 weeks postpartum!!), I am never going to have the body of a 20 year old*. And that is ok. I have not let myself go (besides the teeny tiny BINGE sessions while pregnant), I look good, I am ok. And, as my mother likes to remind us, it took nine months to get into this state, I should allow myself nine months to get back to normal. Easy does it.  And I think, I hope! I am going to be able to keep this positive, healthy state of mind.  I hope so. 

Which was all good and well while I have been living in track pants, but OMG! I have my first full day of business meetings tomorrow and I DONT HAVE A SINGLE THING TO WEAR!!!  EEEEKKK!!  It is impossible to squeeze this chipschocolatemilkshake ass into anything in my cupboard and I am not sure sweatpants are going to cut it.  Bugger!

So off I went to my mother today to see if she had anything more accommodating in her cupboard.  Depressingly, after being unable to squeeze myself into any of her 'fat clothes', I gave up and stood in front of my cupboard again, trying to convince myself that sweatpants are the new black when I had a brainwave!  Maternity pants!  I could wear my maternity pants!  Nice and roomy, enough space for a milkshake ass and a chocolate belly. I am a genius! (yes, yes, you probably all know this trick already, I am a slow learner.)

So, I will be in my maternity pants tomorrow, but not for long. I do want to lose the extra weight I gained, but I don't want to get full of angst about it.  I will give myself some time and do a few positive things like add some exercise to my routine (excercise! gross!).  I am going to give myself 6 months to lose the 12 kgs, which I think is a sensible target. Let's hope I can do it, but most of all, let's hope I can keep this positive attitude about it all.  Keep reminding me if I start acting all asshole'ish about it, ok!

*Although I might never have the body of a 20 year old, thanks to some excellent skills from my plastic surgeon, I have the boobs of a 20 year old. 

(ok, not really, but couldn't resist a little self-teasing there. I dont have the boobs of a 20 year old, that would be silly.  We are talking AT LEAST 25/26 years old. Heh.)

Living in the moment

I know you will find this hard to believe, but I have one or two minor little flaws. I know, seems impossible huh? Well, it’s true. I am not perfect.  GASP!

While some of these flaws are pretty harmless and hardly annoying AT ALL (apparent inability to shut any cupboard doors after I’ve opened them, tendency to carry on and on ad nauseum about certain things, super sensitivity to criticism etc), there are some flaws that annoy even myself.  One of these is a tendency to worry so much about the ‘what if’ that I completely miss enjoyment of the present.

A friend of mine sent me the sweetest text message last week: 

“Was just thinking. You really got to be so happy with your life. Got 3 beautiful kids, a great hubby, a career you were made to have and a beautiful house to share memories in. I'd be proud if i were you”

What a sweet message. It gave me pause for thought.  I have been so busy worrying about the ‘what if’ – what if we have over extended ourselves with the new house? What if we can’t afford it? What about this recession? What if having a third child was a mistake? What if we can’t afford it? What if something happens to my children? How are they going to feel when they are 20 and I am GOD FORBID 60 years old… On and on I go.  Instead of looking around and being immensely grateful and proud for what I have achieved, what I have been blessed with.  I should be reveling in the moment, enjoying this amazing point and place in my life where so much good has happened.  I have so much to be grateful for. And I am grateful. It is not a sense of gratitude I lack; it is a sense of enjoyment of the present.

Look, I think a certain amount of worry about the future is a good thing. I know people who are seemingly oblivious that tomorrow exists – no planning, no pension, no savings. But I think there is such a thing as too much worrying. When you are so busy worrying about tomorrow and what could go wrong that you can’t even enjoy today, then you have a problem. Well, I have a problem.

But it’s a hard thing to do, to force yourself to live in the moment.  I want to do it though.  I really do, because I really do have so much to enjoy and be proud of.  I am just not sure how?

Any of you have any tips for living in the present? For enjoying today and not worrying so much about tomorrow?  Put on your Oprah / Dr Phil / shrink hat and share your wisdom while I lie here on your couch. (Forgive me if I nod off briefly, sleep is at a premium around here)

All well

Hello all

I have a feeling I am going to be a errant blogger for the next while.  Not so much that my new baby is keeping me busy, but between the baby, the new house and my business, I don't have much time for anything!  Business is v v busy (thank goodness), and I am trying to cram a full day's work into the few hours here and there that I have free. Yes, yes, I know - I am supposed to take it easy.  I am, kind of. Easy in a Tertia kind of way.  Ok, not easy but I am not taking strain, I am fine.

I am fine because baby Max is an absolute sweetheart. I know it is still early, but he really does seem to be a chilled baby.  Maybe because he has a million arms waiting to hold him if he just goes 'wah'.  I have to physically wrestle him away from Rose and my poor mother doesn't get a look in at all if Rose is around.  She is like a mother hen on steroids! My mom has resorted to taking Max to her house so that she can get some alone time with him. Marko is also really sweet with him, but you will remember from long ago that Marko doesn't really do newborns.  He loves his children, but prefers the newborns to be in the mother's arms while he coos from a distance. And that works perfectly fine with us as he does the twins at night etc.  Win win situation for us all.

The kids are super cute with baby Max.  They just adore him.  Adam fed him and burped him yesterday (Adam much more maternal than Kate, she was busy helping the gardener at the time). 

I am fine.  Already driving.  Just couldn't wait any longer.  My cut feels fine, no pain. I am a little tired, of course.  Max still hasn't figured out that night is for sleeping and day is for reading books or watching TV, so we spend quite a lot of time staring into each others eyes at night (when I would far rather be staring into the back of my eyelids) but being tired goes with having a newborn.  There isn't much you could do about it except grab the occasional nap (must work on this) and soldier on regardless (am expert in that).

So, all good in the land of the Albertyns.  House is coming along slowly but surely. There is still so much that I want to buy and do, but I've resigned myself to the fact that it is going to take time.  I know you want photos, but it seems so unfinished still!  I am waiting for my new chairs to arrive and the kid's new bedroom furniture.  Give me another month or so and then I will post photos.

In the meantime, you'll have to be satisfied with photos of the kids, the big ones, and the newest addition as well: