Rambles from World's End

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...