Rambles from World's End

What an emotional rollercoaster this year has been. The pregnancy wasn't just hormonal; it was the sudden realisation that this time round I was completely on my own. That for me was the scariest thing about this pregnancy, if the new arrival was anything like the Butterfly for the first three months I was in a lot of trouble. So I had just gathered myself towards myself and gotten over my neurosis of the first trimester and we began planning for 2011. We had big plans for this year; we were going to make some big changes in keeping with our newest addition. Bring it on we yelled, we are ready for you 2011 and our third year at World’s end. Then my Grumpy Father-in-law fell ill and landed up in hospital. It broke my heart watching the Mauritian sway back and forth between going back home or not. I watched him pace up and down as he spoke to his God Father, the family doctor and friends of the family. I could do nothing to ease his pain as he tried again and again to contact my

Three weeks after my grumpy father in law died the Mauritian received his inheritance; we were both so stunned by the amount that we invested the entire amount immediately before we were able to spend a cent. Afterward we both kept saying that we should have kept some aside to buy this or that or whatever, of course if we hadn’t acted so quickly we would’ve spent most of it with ease. In hind sight investing it all was a good thing it’s given us time to get used to having the money and really think about how we are going to use it or work it. It also got us thinking about providing for our children financially and teaching them the value of money. So we did what most parents do, we opened savings accounts for both the girls and we put a small amount in every payday. We also began to discuss when it was the right time to start giving the Butterfly pocket money and how much. The Mauritian was all for giving her a small amount every week regardless, I believed the only way she would appre

So it’s October 24th and I’m grateful for three things, today’s a public holiday, tomorrow the Butterfly goes back to school and the Rugby World Cup 2011 is finally over and the AB’s actually managed to pull off a win. It has been the focus of the sports news here from the time we arrived at the end of the world and it grew in intensity until the brilliant opening ceremony seemed to justify all the hype. Now I’m not averse to watching a game of rugby but I don’t spend the length of the game screaming at the television or cursing the ref. In fact if I’m not watching it with a group of enthusiasts I get bored after ten minutes and either change the channel or go do something else. Here at the end of the world Rugby is not a game it’s a religion. The AB’s are the gods and while it is accepted that even these gods are human sometimes, their captain is infallible. The captain, it must be said is also very nice to look at, even when he’s battered and scowling after losing a game. In fact th

I have come to realise that there is no sense worrying about my children: I have learnt that they are going to catch colds and flu and all sorts of viruses and bacteria I have learnt that they are going to fall over, trip up and walk into stationery objects I have learnt that they are going to scrap knees, bump heads, chip teeth and break bones I have learnt that they are going to feel intimidated, bullied, left out and ignored I have learnt that they will make their own choices no matter the warning I have learnt that they will learn the same lesson I did by making their own mistakes I have come to realise that I cannot protect mychildren from everything life throws at them But I can wrap my arms around them and comfort them I can be their sounding board and punching bag I can be their shoulder to cry on and ear to listen I can point out the life lesson in the experience I can be their doctor and nurse at any time day or night I can try to catch them when they fall I c

The October holidays begin and so does the rain, top that off with both daughters coughing and you’ve got a great start to what you hoped would be a good busy holiday for all of you. I was looking forward to not having to rush in the mornings and taking time changing out of my pj's and mini sleep in mornings. I was looking forward to picnic lunches in the park and walks to the library for story time and craft workshops for littlies. What I got was snot nosed children who kept me awake with their coughing and sneezing. What I got was woken up in the early hours of the morning by the Butterfly sobbing with fever. What I got was a Lollipop who had a hard time drinking because she couldn’t breathe at all. What I got was cold rainy and windy days that kept us locked indoors. What I got was rubbish bags full of used wet tissues. We took the girls to the doctors three times and though I knew there was little they could do for the Lollipop I was hoping for something to at least help ease t

So over the last fifteen weeks I have started, stopped, deleted, lost and restarted numerous blogs and even some rather awful poetry. I try, between a Lollipop, a Butterfly a Mauritian and chores, to find time each day to sit and type at least one inspired line. As always it never goes to plan. This past week with the Butterfly back at “Kindy” and the Lollipop co-operating I have managed to get on top of the daily chores and have some guilty free time I can take to sit and write. All I have done for the past week is sit, my muse got tired of waiting and went on holiday! In desperation last night I chased the Mauritian away from the computer and whatever he was researching to try again. To his credit he graciously gave way, stating that he would never get in the way of my “creative need.” After about half an hour of muttering at the screen and swearing at my absent muse I gave up and told the Mauritian he could have his turn back. “Cool,” he says “I was reading this blog...” Ah, excu

So I joined this page on Facebook called Momalicious Mamas or something. My intention was to stir the pot and get moms talking or disagreeing, but it seems I decided to behave myself. What I did do was ask the question “Caeserian or Natural birth?” While some of the answers were just plain dull there were some interesting opinions. What I did notice was that most all responses ended or started with something similar to: “In the end its your choice, but if you’re asking me...” It reminded me of when pregnant with the Butterfly. Whenever I spoke to my lifelong friend about her impending arrival she would say something along the lines of: “When you have the Caesar...” to which I would say: “If, you mean...” I think she jinx me! Needless to say in hindsight, I would’ve held out and tried harder to have a natural birth but there is nothing to be done about it now. What I do know for sure is that both procedures have a place in this modern world and every mum to be is entitled to her ch

Not long after the Lollipop was born I was sent an appraisal form from the midwifery council here asking me to answer some questions about my experience with my midwife. It was the easiest and quickest questionnaire I’ve ever completed. I have nothing but praise for my midwife and admiration for all women for whom midwifery is a chosen profession. I don’t know about anywhere else but here at the end of the world, midwifery is not a high paying profession, these women do this work because they believe they make a difference. If I had to do it all again I’d chose a midwife over an obstetrician without a moment’s hesitation. The midwives I met varied considerably in age and experience, but all of them had the empathy and understanding that comes with shared experience, something a male obstetrician will never have. My principal midwife was young and almost bursting at the seams with enthusiasm, something I found to be oddly reassuring. I found myself relaxing almost instantly in her co

So with all the craziness that seems to be afflicting us here at the end of the world I have stopped and started a few blogs over the last month or so. I am now attempting to finish the others; in the meantime I’ll leave this rather delayed thought for your perusal. Today has, for reasons beyond me, been rather hectic so it was with much relief that we put the girls to bed and settle down on the sofa with a glass of wine to relax. I know what you’re all thinking and no, we didn’t watch the SA vs. Fiji game we were otherwise occupied with children and dinner at the time and I forgot about the delayed coverage. Anyway, so there we were on the sofa missing the rugby and listening to music. The Mauritian’s taste in music is eclectic so we have a music collection that ranges from opera’s like “Carmen” to “dance” music and everything in between. Somewhere among the mound of CDs we have collected over the years is music that I enjoy. Sometimes I get lucky and the Mauritian will play someth

It’s Friday afternoon, the wind is howling but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. The “Lollipop” is asleep in her rocking chair. My lifelong friend, visiting from Auckland has left her son with me for an hour or two and he and the Butterfly are happily playing in her room. My house is tidy, the washing is sorted and the need to cook supper is hours away. After a hectic nine weeks of settling into a routine with a new born, helping the Butterfly adjust to all the changes that a sibling brings and being a shoulder to lean on while the Mauritian processed and dealt with his father’s death I finally have time for a hot mug of coffee and a decent sandwich for lunch. So I make my coffee and sandwich and find myself relishing that first sip of hot steaming coffee. I take a large slow bite of my sandwich and it dawns on me that I haven’t written a blog in months. So I settle down at my lap top and start to reflect over the last few months and weeks to find a story to tell. The weather

With the imminent arrival of our little “Petal” looming it has become clear to me just how “unlittle” our Little Butterfly is. With her very short practical “preschool” haircut, sporting self chosen lime green winter pjs she looks every part the “Miss Independent” she thinks she is. Upon waking one very wet and windy World’s End morning she established herself on our bed next to her favourite parent demanding cereal (without milk) and juice from her mum. She brought supplies with her too, her “puzzle and paint bag.” She had emptied onto the bed her felt tip pens and colouring books and was busily colouring in and chatting to her favourite parent who was buried somewhere under a mountain of duvets and snoring quietly. I stood quietly at the door listening to her natter away oblivious to the fact that she was getting no response from her favourite parent. Then it dawned on me, this wasn't baby talk any more, these were coherent sentences that made perfect sense and expressed her int

Forty weeks three days and still pregnant, the next two weeks or, hopefully, less will be the longest of my life. It seems that our little Petal is boycotting delivery due to the typical freezing end of the world winter. No amount of coxing, begging, pleading, demanding or even singing has made a difference. Even the Butterfly and her favourite parent have had a go at trying to convince her out. The Mauritian even went so far as to give a running commentary one Sunday night about how to build a fire and how warm and comfy it made the whole house. The Petal responded by kicking me in the ribs and head banging my bladder instead. Of course with the prospect of being overdue comes all the recommendations and remedy suggestions for this malady know as overdueness. There are of course the most common ones like; sex, long walks or castor oil! Then there are the herbal remedies like Raspberry leaf tea or black or blue cohosh, even nettles was suggested. Someone told me to jump on a trampoline

Twice this month, via that marvellous invention called “Skype,” I’ve recieved a call from one of my many charming cousins. One call came from the shores of Lake Malawi and another from Big brother’s home on a coffee plantation in Tanzania. How cool is that! Okay so a South African in Malawi or Tanzania is not an odd occurrence so why should I be so thrilled to hear from him? Well that’s simple, he’s family of course, and despite the age difference we’ve always had a good relationship. That and the fact that he and his girlfriend packed up or sold off their entire lives, left very promising and lucrative careers, loaded up a pair of motorbikes and headed up through Africa on a world tour! I remember thinking how different that approach to travelling was but have since discovered that it’s not as uncommon as I originally thought. It does, however, suit the type of people this couple are. This adventurous couple seem happy outdoors “roughing it” in a tent or doing some kind of adventur

While attempting to stuff fibrefill into he’s new custom home built loudspeakers the morning after a night out with work colleagues the Mauritian declared: “Manth, I am getting to old to do these things anymore!” When asked why he would say that when by his own admission he only had two glasses of wine and a beer he put his tools on the floor and sat on the coffee table and said: “Exactly, and I feel like sh..!” He then went on to explain that the simple task of making tea for the Butterfly and coffee for her parents turned into a series of comical errors, which I find far too comical not to share. For the first time in many weeks I have not been plagued by 5am backache which forces me out of bed and denies me much desired sleep ins on the weekends, so I made the most of it and refused to emerge from under the winter stack of duvets. The Butterfly is up and demanding tea and the Mauritian can no longer deny his need for a strong cup of caffeine filled filter coffee so he staggers ou

Week 28, 12 weeks to go! Holy crap! Father Time is just plain wicked, when you need him to move along with some speed he sits down on a park bench and feeds the ducks but when you could benefit from as much time as possible he hops on his scooter and puts his foot down. This is me thumbing my nose at Father Time, I will complete my “to do” list by the time the little “Petal” arrives so bully to you! This despite the fact that the list is the length of a dress makers measuring tape and I’m hoping the little Petal takes her time. Last weekend was spend washing all of the Butterfly’s baby blankets, toys and clothes I had kept as well as some hand me down blankets and toys I have received from friends here. The Butterfly and I also got stuck into the cot and gave it a really good clean, the paint work my clever Dad did on it is still good, thank goodness! I have also found some lovely bright pictures for the walls of the nursery; those went up during the week. Scratch those off the list an

So I am officially 23 weeks pregnant! According to one pregnancy manual the Miniature is about the size of a box of sugar or a bag of coffee beans. Now I’m damned if I know whether the authors are referring to a small 250g box of sugar cubes or a 5kg sack of coffee beans. So basically I’m still in the dark as to how big the miniature actually should be. Referring to another manual she is apparently about 20cm long, now that makes more sense. But is that from head to toe or crown to rump? If I “Google” it I’ll get another answer or rather another thousand or so answers if I choose to read them all. So I settle on she is somewhere between the length of a box of sugar cubes and a thousand answers on “Goggle.” With no fat layers under the skin yet she looks like a thin wrinkled new born, she has fully formed but colourless eyes and “tooth buds” in her gums. I am, apparently gaining weight steadily as baby grows, may experience backache, water retention and a myriad of other undignified c

As most of you are aware I am a diehard Melissa Etheridge fan. I am enthralled by the emotional power of her lyrics and captivated by her music. I have all of her CDs and some DVDs and I will make the opportunity and time to play something of hers at some point during the day. I find myself identifying with so much of her music; I have a song for almost all occasions, from a bad day to doing the ironing. There are certain songs that remind me of friends and family as well as songs that have become a part of many memories. I simply cannot get enough. Her music for me is inspirational; I have written many poems with her voice crooning in the background. Do I identify or even like her as a person? That would be hard for me to say either way. She is the type of celebrity who lives in the public eye. She is unafraid to put her personal life out there for all to see, considering of course how much of what the media reports one can actually believe. From all the interviews with Melissa tha

Christchurch is in the middle of a living nightmare having just barely started to recover from the last earthquake they are now reeling from the devastation of another. It is estimated that there are at least two hundred and forty people who died as a result, with scores more injured and even more homeless and jobless. It is a tragedy that has left World’s End reeling from the shock and horror. Not one single person has been left unaffected by this; even the Mauritian and I have been glued to the television or radio waiting for updates, hoping for some good news. There were lots of stories of “close escapes” and survival in the first two days after the “quake” but since then only heartache as the death toll slowly climbs higher with each passing day. Within hours of the “quake” Urban Search and Rescue teams (USAR) were despatched from all over Worlds End to help in the search for survivors, by the following morning there were teams from Australia arriving and still more from the States