Mornings with the Boy

Little feet padding into our room.


Collection of teddies flung onto my chest.


Wiping teddy fur from out of my mouth.


Little Boy clambering over me.


Arranging teddies around himself.


Assigning a teddy each to Mama and Papa.


Reaching round to slide little arms round my neck.


"Want a hug, Mommy.." is softly whispered to me.


"Want to kiss you, Mommy.." follows.


The sweetest little lips find my mouth and lightly kiss me.


Kisses and cuddles and giggles.


Teddy kisses too.


Kiss Teddy's tail.


Papa gets a hug and a kiss planted on his face.


Little Boy gets up and runs to find a rugby ball in his room.


Comes running back and bounces back on to the bed.


"Lets scrum!", he hunkers down on the ball.


Launches himself into my chest.


"Come, Mommy, come, ...scrum!"


Catching my breath, rubbing my ribs where a little elbow has jabbed itself.


Papa becoming more conscious and starting to join in.


Papa teasing Boy.


Boy starting to protest, but still trying to hang on to the ball.


Legs in the air, tickling and giggles.


Teddies find themselves jammed up against the headboard or slipping off the edge of the bed.


Bed is getting hot and too much wrestling going on.


Screeching with fun.


Time for a shower.


"Mommy, I want a hug!" 


"And anudder one.."


Ok. I'm up.


A good start to anudder day.

Under The Oaks in Happy Valley

Damn, it was hot. Like an oven.
I'd wandered outside in my mission to find a cool spot. No, my mind had not succumbed to heat stroke, I just could not find a cool spot in the house.


I took a towel and a pillow and quietly slipped outside into the garden and surveyed the green lawn while trying to decide under which huge oak tree I would make my siesta spot.
The children were playing inside while the parents tried to relax in the scorching heat. The Husband was lying in a prone position on a princess duvet trying to catch a bit of shut-eye and NM and Jack were doing puzzles on a tablet. Well, NM was doing puzzles, Jack was trying to catch 40 winks beside her.
The Boy and Poppie and P were playing topless on the cool cement floor, probably not a bad place to be if you want to keep cool. Outside, the Sunday afternoon baked in the Franschhoek summer heat and not an oak leaf fluttered in the dry hot air. 


I chose my shady spot and lay down under a tree. My back settled on the towel and I could feel the spongy lawn cushion my body and the faint coolness of the earth underneath me. In the back of my mind I keep an eye out for displaced snakes from the neighbouring cattle farm that experienced a runaway fire two weeks ago. 


My original idea was to close my eyes and catch up on some lost sleep from the early hours of that morning but I found myself gazing up into the tree's branches and that of its neighbour. Beautiful long branches stretching to touch the tree beside it, and I imagined that trees  with that kind of reach must need pretty deep roots to keep it form toppling over. They reach deep down below me and thrive on the many clear sweet mountain water ducts running below the farm.


The oak leaves are still mostly green but starting to turn a lovely bright yellowy green. We are heading into autumn and in a few more months these branches will be bare. I take stock of all the leaves on the trees and decide that Jack will need to dust his rake off soon. Already there are a lot of acorns lying below on the grass.


I look for the squirrels that have been scampering along the branches but the tree is quiet, except for the hundreds of wasps visiting the branches above me. I never noticed them before. What do wasps need in acorn trees? Nonetheless, there are hundreds of them doing their thing high above me.
I turn my head to the right and take in a beautiful weeping willow and a lime tree and a hedge of baby blue plumbago. Behind them the majestic Drakenstein mountains form the backdrop to my afternoon siesta.


The weeping willow's branches undulate gently in a light breath of an air current. I hear a rustling high above me and notice a breeze is moving through the oak branches. An acorn is released from its arboreal realm and drops to the ground, bouncing once. One or two oak leaves lose their tenuous grip and pivot downwards on the breeze and take up residence on the grass alongside me.


I am lying there doing nothing but absorbing His quiet Greatness, imagining His life-giving breath whispering though the branches above. Bliss. I have needed this quiet time for a while. Where I do nothing but be quiet and listen. With no little body climbing all over me or pulling my hand to show me something or asking me questions or asking for still more juice. Just a time for being me, alone and enjoying the hush.


I close my eyes with my only concern being that an acorn will leave an imprint on my forehead. I hear insects buzzing around me but not bothering me. Unlike the Nazi mosquito I had in our room early this morning. Little winged demonized bugger.


From the house I hear P, the youngest family member, lustily singing Barney's song "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family.." P's song peters out as he discovers something else of interest. The garden is quiet again.


I recap on our weekend so far.
Its a special weekend for the Darling Husband and I. We celebrate 5 years of marriage. Well done, medals all around. The best few years of my life. I like to think I can speak for him too.
Our friends, Jack and NM had invited us out to their farm in the beautiful wine lands town of Franchhoek. We always enjoy their company as we can be our selves with each other. No hang-ups, issues or pretenses. We are who we are. The Griswold's in all their glory. It helps that our children get on like wild fire too.


NM had take us to a wine festival in the area where we bought a glass each and were given permission to taste a bunch of different wines on a bunch of different wine estates. What could be better?


We had a great time sampling young wines, unfiltered wines, wines with a distinct coffee chocolate flavour, sparkling wines and many more. We were treated to lunch at a local Primi Piatti while the children played outside and I admired the most inspired giant lampshades that the restaurant had designed.
We headed out to more wine farms while slurping on McDonald's R2,50 ice cream cones, delicious.


It would take too long to describe everything we saw and tasted and I'm not writing a novel. We had a lovely time and the kids had a blast petting animals and riding pedal tractors. I have made notes for further wineland expeditions and picnic opportunities and possible reviews.
We head home with the anticipation of a braai of lamb chops filling our mouths. No more wine for me today, thanks.


The children are filthy and are all popped into the bath together. Faces are wiped and feet are scrubbed and fresh PJs are put on. I love it when The Boy is squeaky clean and smelling of Johnson's baby bath lotion. I brush his hair to the side in a neatish side parting. That won't last long. They are soon speeding about outside on their matching scooters in the slightly cooler evening air.


The fire is crackling and the salads are done. The little succulent lamb chops are emitting a most delicious mouth watering aroma. We eat al fresco on the stoep and watch the bats swoop through the darkening garden. I wish they'd catch the wretched mosquitoes.


We all head to bed early, the wine and the heat have caught up with us, but not before I run a nice warm bath, bubbles added courtesy of the pretty pink Lux hand soap. Wineland dust is washed from my feet and  and I also put on fresh PJs . The bed's linen is fresh and soft. I make sure the window is open only a crack and the voile curtain drawn fully across the window. (It seems the mozzies can navigate and leopard crawl even through these precautions.)
Lights out. No hot anniversary action for us, the Boy is sleeping at the foot of our bed and we are surrounded by pink unicorns and princess dolls. The Husband is half way to Dreamland anyway.


I wake up when the Boy climbs into bed with us later. The Husband moves to his bed. I try get back to sleep but become aware that the room seems to have been invaded by an army of mosquitoes. And the neighbouring dog is barking a monotonous reportoire. Points on my body are stinging but not itching and I am restless. I gather its much earlier than I thought as the sky is not getting any lighter. 
The Boy stirs, sits up and then vomits onto the sheets. Not sure why, I can only think he had too much mash potato for dinner. He goes back to sleep leaving me to mop up and place the top sheet over the damp spot. Thank heavens it oddly didn't stink. I FINALLY drift off to sleep again.


Morning coffee is served to us by Jack, what service!


NM and I take the kids for an early morning amble round the farm. It still needs a lot of maintenance and we walk through dried withered weeds and spy the flock of guinea fowl foraging for their breakfasts. We keep moving or else the armies of big red ants will bite us silly.


We make ourselves a scrumptious farm breakfast which is enjoyed under the big oak in the corner of the garden.


Time for more wine tasting and the temperature is steadily rising. Bottles of ice water, sun hats and sunscreen are packed for the kids. We head to Del Vera which I can recommend to anyone looking for kid friendly activities, crafts and cuisine. They have converted old pig sties into barns for crafters and pedal go-cart tracks. And what a view! Those pigs must have had a life, or a view at least.


We sit down at a table with a red checkered table cloth under an air conditioner. I settle down with the Boy and and enjoy a spot of people-watching. All sorts come to taste the wines. Enjoying the delicious aromas wafting from the fresh pizza and Lebanese food stalls and the live accordion music it all combines into a lovely relaxed atmosphere. The Boy is asleep in my arms. Poppie distractedly lies about on the chairs while her playmate sleeps open mouthed on my chest. Bored, she sits under the table watching hundreds of feet walk by.


We decide to make our way home. I agree with the Husband that we should only drive back home later to avoid the suffocating heat. We get back to the farm and try get through the afternoon without melting into an unattractive puddle.
That is how I find myself under an oak tree studying wasps and birds and the trajectory of falling leaves.


We head back home later with another lamb chop braai filling our stomachs, and with the waning moon to guide us. 
A truly enjoyable weekend and food for my soul.
And not too many mozzie bites either.

The Boy & his Ear Saga - Part 3

Well, its done. The teeny tiny tubes have been inserted into his ears and he is just fine.
Praise the Lord. And all my fears were for nought.
Except that we were late in arriving at the hospital. Because we live a million miles from anywhere near town we underestimated morning traffic and got a tad delayed on the freeway. With my heart pounding I slung the backpack onto my back and hoisted the Boy onto my (well padded) hip and set off half running, half limping across the car park leaving the Husband to lock the car and catch up with me.


"Run, Mommy, run," the Boy giggled and cheered as I navigated the hospital maze corridors with him clutching my neck and jiggling on my side. "A7, A7..."I kept muttering, "ah, A7 - Day Surgery Ward".
Woohoo, we arrived! To my pleasant surprise the ward was not very full and really nice. An airy light reception desk welcomed us as I dumped the Boy to the ground and got on with checking him in. He bee-lined for a gigantic plush giraffe who held the duty of keeping a beady eye on the toilets. While Dad helped the Boy scale the giraffe's legs and clamber onto his back I took care of the admin. The sister sent me to another reception desk several corridors away to get his info put onto the hospital data base. I waited my turn while the lady worked through her pile of files that were already stacked up. 


While I waited I got to observe some of the staff starting their day at this world renowned children's hospital. Young interns and students with white coats and id cards strung round their necks drifted into work, some chatting to each other, discussing which wards they were going to be in that day, others just gliding in and glancing at us waiting on our plastic fold up seats.
Strangely none of them displayed much Greys or Private Practice glamour. No Drs Sam Bennet or Addison Montgomery brooding drama here. I suppose they have more important things to do. (Yes, its safe to diagnose me as a GA and PP junkie).


I finally get my file back and shoot back to A7 to find the Boy playing hopscotch on the play area floor. And very happy to see me.


I get to take him into the ward and he is assigned a cot/bed with rails. Till now his mood has been fine. The blue back-less gown freaks him out and he starts crying and wants to leave. Papa must come fetch him. Only one parent is allowed in the ward with a child and I was that parent. Dad checks in through the glass every so often to see how things are with us.
I eventually try distract him with puzzles and books and he sort of settles down but still with the occasional bout of crying. The doctors come round to each patient. There are about 6 children in for operations this morning. Luke is fourth in line. Not too bad.


The doctors are very nice and have a good sense of humor and try get the kids to loosen up. The one doc tells the Boy he doesn't have to wear the wretched blue gown if he doesn't want to. The Boy is not too forth-coming with his thanks. We take the gown off, but he still fidgets with his plastic identity arm band.


The other little patients include a blond little toddler about 10 months old, I thought it was a little girl at first with the blond curls and yellow Baby Gro but the mommy called the child Ethan so I must have got it wrong. He was squealing with delight as he played "Lets Throw Myself Off The Table and See If Mommy Catches Me". Luckily she did.


Next was a little coloured girl with light hair pulled into pig tails. Her mom must have been tense too as she kept on skelling the child when she did anything unpleasing.


The next little girl must be nearly 2, a feisty little thing with her hair teased into multiple little pig tails held together with bright yellow and pink hair bands all over her head. She wanted nothing to do with anyone and she kept screaming and hitting her poor mom, whom came into the hospital beautifully groomed but by the time she left she was a tad dishevelled. She had to take her necklace off and try keep her composure. After a particularly volatile bout of screaming and flailing of arms I'm sure I heard her muttering "Ek gaan you bliksem..!" Mom, we all know that point of exasperation.


Another little boy in the bed next to the Boy was also none too happy to be there and he also started crying, I think he was maybe about 4 and a half.


The last patient was a young boy who was brought in by his mom with a young baby. My hat is off to her, to be able to handle a young baby while still trying to support your other child through their difficult experience like this. But he seemed very good and not playing up like the other kids. The baby was good too. She needs to bottle her secret.


The nurses start dishing out pre-op meds to relax and calm the children before they are taken to theatre. Little Ethan is first and before I know it he has fallen asleep in his mom's arms and he is ready to go.
Miss Light Hair is also calm and falls asleep easily.
Little Miss Feisty Pig Tails is still having none of it and still gives her mom a royal hard time despite the sedative. I offer her one of our story books and she quietens down to read it. She grows drowsy and its her turn to go off to theatre.


The Boy on drugs is quite a giggle. He gets all goofy and everything is so funny, hilarious. We read his book and he is looking at me with those heavy Jack Nicholson eyelids and he laughing and snickering at the pictures. "Look, Mommy, look at da beach!" But he slurs it like he is drunk. The nurses share my laughs as he tries to sit up and fails completely and shouts "Whoa! Whooooa!" as he is trying to get his balance.


The theatre sister escorts us to the waiting room and I get to don a super flattering hair net and big green slippers and my own back-less gown. I get to keep my clothes on. This is of course another great source of amusement to the Boy.


The theatre is ready and the doctors come to fetch us. The Boy is still fighting the gown and the nice tall doc takes it off for him. I pick him up and carry him to the theatre bed. The paper covering crackles as I gently set the Boy down. The doc shows him the little blinky light on the end of a wire and asks the Boy to help him put it on his little thumb. Then he gets The Boy to assist him in attaching the chest stickers to his chest. He is quite co-operative and is having a good look at all the lights and machines. I am quite impressed at how light and spacious the theatre is. The staff is great and really respectful. The lady doc asks if they may insert a suppository for pain. (For the Boy, not me, phew). A nurse verifies that I am the Boy's mom, she confirms his date of birth and if the signature on the consent form is indeed mine.
The lady doc shows the Boy the gas mask and asks him to smell the strawberries. He breaths in the sweet gas and his eyes grow heavy, he leans against the doc and we gently lower him into a horizontal position. He looks so vulnerable lying there wearing nothing but his little red underpants. The doc takes away the mask for a moment, "Want a kiss?" she asks me and I plant a light kiss on his cheek. I back out of the theatre before I tear up and am escorted to the waiting room to remove my hair net, gown and slippers. Time to get comfortable and wait. But not for too long.


The other children who went in before him are coming out and recovering. They all seemed to have had their adenoids removed too and they have bloody noses, poor things. They come round and cry and cry. Not necessarily from pain, probably just from the feeling of disorientation, they settle down and moms are finally able to give them bottles with juice or water or a packet of crisps.


Little Miss Feisty Pig Tails still has her drip port in her hand and I wasn't sure why they kept it in. She was screaming "Eina! Eina!" while trying to pull it out. Her mom was fussing and screeching at her to leave it alone "Los dit!" and swiping at her free hand. The nurses taped it up for her. I'm still not sure why they left it in.


The Boy was finally wheeled out to me, also moaning but not bleeding. He didn't want to lie down and was calling for his Papa to come hold him. Dad came in and cuddled him while I slipped out. He cried for me again and I went in and I dressed him and offered him some cold sweet apple juice. This consoled him and once he had it in his stomach he started coming round quickly. The sister said we can go home after we collected the medication from the pharmacy down the passage. Great! The Boy seems fully recovered, chatting full steam, climbing the giraffe again.


We head to the pharmacy and are greeted with a mass of like-minded people all waiting for their meds. Good grief.
The Boy has a packet of NikNaks he is chomping on.
The Darling Husband goes to enquire about how long the wait will be if we choose to stay. He is politely told "Three hours". Whaaaat?


Ok, we go back to A7 and request a written prescription to fill at our own local pharmacy.
Great, with that done we head back home again. The Boy falls asleep in his chair, no doubt ridding himself of the last anesthesia. He sleeps all the way home and for another 2 hours on his bed.


Still running on adrenalin, I slip to the shops, come home and make a pot of home-made chicken soup and brown bread rolls from scratch. Maniac.


Of course later I collapse into bed at 8pm, 5 seconds after I deposit the Boy back into bed.
I suspect I have caught the Darling Husband's cold too. Dammit.


The Boy Will Not Go To Sleep. Aaaargh! Too bad, the Husband needs to handle this and I roll back into bed. My pillow is my lover tonight, aah, how wonderful you are!


And with that, Part 3 is over.
We have a follow up appointment next month for another hearing test to check if the Boy's hearing has improved. Stay tuned.


On another note, I am finding being a parent is the greatest learning curve I have ever been on and not just in how to care for a child.
Its true that you can only really understand someone else's feelings if you have been through a similar experience.
Before this operation on the Boy I was always naturally sympathetic and supportive to any of my family and friend's whose kids were having ops etc but always kinda put it on the back burner of my mind and assumed everything will be fine, all will be fixed and taken care of, and it was.
But I never really understood the anxiety, however "small" the operation was, that the parents go through. Until now. And I am so thankful and appreciative of all the texts and emails and phone calls of support from my family and friends. You helped allay my fears and reassured me it would be all fine. I have yet another fresh appreciation for the awesome network of hearts that I am connected to.
Good grief, I go on like it was a brain operation! But be it a small op or a major one, one's imagination and fears can run away with you and can just freak you out. Thanks for understanding and empathizing with that. In turn I will be able to do the same for other anxious moms.


Now I need to go find a beeeg bottle of wine. Cheers.

My nails are all but gone

Well, tomorrow is the long-awaited grommet operation.
And I'm slowly having a mommy melt-down internally. I know its not a major operation but it still involves drugs, needles and maybe scalpels. All being stuck into my baby. Yes, I do know he will be unconscious. Another nail biter.


I decided to quickly re-read the pre-op instructions last night to make sure I hadn't missed anything. 
1. We aren't supposed to bring him in if he has a cold.
Bugger. He has a slightly snotty nose. When doesn't he have one? "Reschedule" is all very well but whose to say he won't have another cold at the next appointment? I've decided to take him in anyway. I can't help but wonder what happens to those children who go in for emergency ops already with runny noses? Mind you, I vaguely remember the ENT doc mentioning the Boy will have a tube inserted down his throat, so maybe that will help with his breathing.


2. Also no aspirin for 2 weeks prior to the operation.
Sh*t, does Dimetapp contain aspirin? Luckily, no, I don't see it listed on the label.


3. We have to be at the hospital and book him in by 7am, meaning we will have to get up at sparrow's fart, something the Husband does not do well. I will have to make an extra big cup of coffee for him in bed. Or drag him out of bed by his feet.


4. How am I to convince The Boy he can only have his juice or milk or tea only after he has been to see the nice doctor? That's a biggie for me. Mainly because I don't feel like being hassled when I'm on edge, and having to explain to a child (that normally has a drink first thing when he wakes up) that he can't have it tomorrow for no good reason other than that he simply can't is going to be difficult. Maybe I underestimate him. We'll have to see. Wish us luck.


And, oh Lord, please let us get there On Time! 


Then the waiting has to start. We are already booked for the morning but with state hospitals its just a game of Wait Till You're Called.
So I have a thirsty and bored child to cater for. Puzzles and books will have to be chosen and packed tonight.
No snacks this time either, Engeltjie.


I'm just hoping they don't refuse to admit him due to the snotty nose. Dammit.
Watch this space...


PS I try my hardest not to read the rubbish headlines plastered to the lamp posts every morning. Guess what caught my eye this morning - "Hospital disfigures my child".
Great. Just what I needed.

Too Little Time -*a short soppy mushy post

I'm listening to some of my favourite love songs and picturing the Darling Husband and I dancing to them, laughing and enjoying being in each other's arms. Just us.


And I suddenly experience a moment's panic, panic that I won't have enough time to share more special moments with him, times to experience things we both want to see and do together. Just to be ourselves, together.


But there is always enough time to say I Love You.


xxx

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Your Song - Elton John