Chewing on Mistletoe

And, just like that, we're thirteen days from Christmas! Where has the year gone!? I'm looking especially forward to the festive season this year - I simply cannot wait to celebrate with my little man! We're heading off to Rod's folks' place in Klerksdorp for a few days to put our feet up and eat ourselves silly. And, of course, open the millions of gifts that everyone has bought for Ricky. My mom is sharing the car ride with us and I'm already starting to question where we'll put everything... But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. On the first, as per tradition, our Christmas tree went up, and the next morning over breakfast my little magpie did nothing but stare at the bright and shiny ornaments. He was quite simply enamored with it. It's going to be lovely watching him rip the wrapping paper from his gifts, before shoving it in his mouth by the fistful. The toys will come in handy in a few months, but for now the paper will be his entertainment. He can't seem to get enough of it!

Skinny Bitch

When a woman falls pregnant - and I feel particularly well-placed to make this statement, having been pregnant - it seems that all the naysayers she has ever known crawl out of the woodwork to pour acid on the special time, as if it somehow makes them better or wiser for having seen the world for what it really is. At least that was my experience. What it really made them was rude and uncultured shitheads. Instead of wishing me well, I was showered with comments such as "You know you're giving up sleep for the next five years, right?" and "You're going to lose your figure, I hope you like being fat!" I laughed off most of these brazen and bitter comments, I was ready for a change! I wanted it! If I wanted to sleep through the night or not have the responsibility of caring for another human being 24/7, I would never have had a child. I didn't make this decision blindly.

Babies Don't Come With Hands-Free Kits

So I mentioned last week that I was headed for the doctor's office to check out the root of my aching finger joints, and we have an answer to the million dollar question. I'm pleased to report that it is not arthritis. Nor is is repetitive strain injury. I was quite surprised to discover what was (and still is) causing me excruciating pain - something called Raynaud's phenomenon. If I cast my mind back to high school, I do recall hearing the term in biology class, back when schools still taught actual subjects instead of pretending to. I will, however, not pretend to know everything there is to know about it, and so I did a little extra reading.

There are several contributing factors but, in my case, this is how my doctor explained it to me. When one's blood pressure is low, the body responds by constricting the peripheral blood vessels (in the fingers and toes) to keep blood circulating closer to the heart. This causes cramping and joint pain in the digits due to the lack of blood circulation. On Friday my blood pressure was 85 over 50. To put this into perspective, average blood pressure is about 120 over 80. Throw into the mix the fact that I am anaemic - largely due to a history of anaemia and partially due to the fact that I am still breastfeeding - and the situation is exacerbated.

The Most Boring Post Ever

Here's a photo that has absolutely nothing to do with this post at all.

Oh, it has really just been one of those weeks. Last week I found I just had nothing to share and so, instead of forcing the issue for the sake of posting, I chose rather to take the week off. Go me! But, despite the fact that I have as little to say this week as I did last, I felt I could not neglect my little blog yet again! And so here I am! Prepare to be dazzled by the most tedious of news items!

A few weeks back I broke my little toe on Ricky's pram. I don't think I've mentioned it, mostly because it's such a lame thing to break. My hardcore reputation would have been better upheld if I'd perhaps been driven through with a lance while fighting dragons but, alas, a broken digit is all I was afforded. After a few days of limping around and a further few of tentative walking, it was sufficiently healed for a more normal mode of locomotion and slightly sexier shoes. And the heavens rejoiced. Something as small and insignificant as a broken toe is somewhat amplified when one's day consists of carting a 9kg baby up and down stairs, I was surprised to discover. I've had more fun.

The Importance of Getting Dirty

A healthy diet of leaves and dirt

For those of you who haven't been paying close attention, let me state for the record that I am a decidedly old-fashioned kind of mom. I believe in the old style of parenting. No prenatal classes or any of that jazzy crap for us. No Baby Gym to help us celebrate our child's mediocre (and inevitable) achievements as though they've just won the Nobel Prize in Physics. No hand sanitiser in the nursery, no wildly expensive organic baby food for our little man, no sterilising every little thing he may happen to lay his hands on. I am often agitated when visitors keep telling me what Ricky is doing or where he is going, as though I am not watching. "He's going toward the coffee table!" Yeah, and? "What if he bumps his head?" Then he bumps his head and he feels a little pain, or not, and learns to be more careful. Life happens. Sure, I don't intend leaving power tools or a barrel of scorpions or a set of newly sharpened Shogun knives lying around where Ricky can get to them, but I refuse to envelop my home in bubble wrap for fear that my child may actually experience a little of what we call living. If a parent chooses to wrap their own child in cotton wool and hide them away from the world for fear it may actually impact them in some way, that is their prerogative; but I am the parent who can't remember the last time I sterilised a bottle or sippy cup, and I let my son roll around on the floor with the cat. He enjoys the freedom, and that makes me happy. Don't mistake my relaxed attitude for neglect, though. I have taken every precaution to latch cupboards that may house anything detrimental to the well-being of my little explorer, and I keep an ever-watchful eye on the goings-on in my home. I just believe in getting dirty.

A Little Sad, But a Little Relieved

Once upon a time, before I was Mommy, I was approached by a woman who was starting an online magazine for moms in business. She was trying to get a few people interested in writing articles, and asked if I was keen. Of course I was! I have no clue how she got my name, and I didn't ask. The magazine, I was told, would touch on all things woman - health, beauty, food, home, children, you name it - and it seemed like the perfect place to cut my teeth with regards to writing. This was not long before Ricky was born, and I was still intent on continuing with a career in events, so I was perfectly placed to write about being a new mom in business - the ups and downs of new mommyhood, juggling a business and a new baby, amusing anecdotes of day-to-day life... We went back and forth for a little while, and eventually it was decided that I would be a regular contributor. We both felt that my style would work better as a column rather than a once-off article - there is just so much happening in a new mom's life! And so, at my suggestion, I submitted a couple articles for her to read to get a feel for my style and content - she gave me absolutely no direction in this regard, so I went with what I considered safe topics, hoping she would give me a little feedback for editing. Well, that was three weeks after Ricky's birth - and I'm still waiting.

Om nom nom nom, CHICKEN!

Can you believe we're already nearing the end of October!? It seems every time I look up I have to change the page on our kitchen calendar! Tomorrow our little man is 7 months old - how time flies! He's mastered the art of sitting unsupported, making me one very happy and proud mommy!

Look at that handsome man!

Ricky's still experiencing severe separation anxiety - he is now permanently glued to my side throughout the day to assuage his fears. I don't mind in the least, I love spending time with my little man, but it does break my heart when he cries for me if I leave the room. Earlier today I took advantage of his cheerful mood and left him playing on his mat to grab a quick bite to eat. I couldn't have been in the kitchen for more than a minute when he started crying. That crying turned to wailing which turned to shrieking, all in a period of about 30 seconds, and I grabbed everything I needed to finish off in the lounge. That's when I realised that Ricky's cries sounded closer than the lounge. A LOT closer. I stuck my head out of the kitchen to see that he had leopard crawled his way out of the lounge and most of the way to the kitchen in search of me. My heart shattered. His face was streaked with tears and the look of utter despair I found there made me want to cry. I could do nothing but sweep him up in my arms and just hold him.

Separation Anxiety and a Pearly White

Momma and her little man - then and now
1 day old and 6 months old 

When Ricky was born, there were a few concerns among the people around me that I may struggle to bond with my new little bundle. Due to a few complications I spent the first day and a half of Ricky's life tucked away in what appeared to be a storage room in High Care while he was safely ensconced in the nursery in the light and airy Maternity Ward. But, despite a separation that felt like eons, all I could think about was my little man and how much I wanted to see him. And when I did, the bond was instant. Of course, for the first few weeks of Ricky's life, I was little more to him than a milk machine and changer of nappies, but something in his eyes when he looked at me let me know that he knew I was Mommy. Now, six and a half months down the line, I have my incontrovertible proof - the onset of separation anxiety.

Uncle Scrooge and Rhinokey Walk Into a Bar

If you know who these guys are, your childhood rocked!

I love cartoons. I unashamedly admit that I am a bit of an old school cartoon junkie. I was one of those kids who would anxiously wait for my show to come on so that my parents could tape it for me to keep and rewatch a million and one times at my leisure. In fact, I still have seventeen VHS tapes in our TV cabinet from the late '80s filled with the sort of gems that are next to impossible to find today. The tape is stretched out and the sound is going, but they work well enough for me to remember how much I enjoyed what TV had to offer. Don't get me wrong, I was very much the tomboyish, outdoorsy sort, but when it came time for lunch, in went the next video and Blaine and I would sit down to enjoy a little bit of Smurf or Wuzzle action over our toasted cheese sarmies.

Superheroes and Epiphanies

Oooo-eh-eh! It feels like just yesterday I was sitting on my couch typing up a helluva rant, just casting my anger out to the universe... And then today I look up to see we're already in October! But I will forgive myself this minor delay, the last two weeks have been decidedly busy in the Ghobril household. But more on that later!

Last Wednesday saw my little man turn six months old! He chose to celebrate by being quite a bit fussier than usual. What a blast! But in amongst the random tears and excess need for mommy hugs, I did manage to get a few pics of a smiley little bee.

A Bit of a Rant

"A lot of mom's out there are so busy complaining that they don't take the time to see what a beautiful miracle and blessing it is to be a mom..."

A few weeks ago I received an unexpected, but rather nice, message from an old varsity friend complimenting my enthusiasm and involvement in the raising of my son. She works with kids in the psychology field and, to put it mildly, I was quite flattered but, at the same time, saddened. And more than a little angered. Not by the message, but by the truth in the above statement. The above is from that same message, and it has stayed with me these past weeks. I wish I could say that I disagree with the sentiment, but in my own experience I have come across many a mother who, simply put, does not know how to embrace the joy of mommyhood. I once knew a girl who admitted to me that she was trying to concoct a way she could kill her child without anyone knowing because she didn't like the life she was forced to live after the birth. This is, of course, an extreme case, but it does highlight, in a very real way, a very real problem that society is facing - the plague of the disinterested and disconnected parent.

Spuh-RING!

And yet again I am late with my post!  Alas, this time it was no fault of mine! For some reason unknown to men and gods alike, Blogger decided that Wednesday was not a good day for me to access my account and temporarily limited me to simply viewing a blank screen with a poorly worded error message.  All seems to be back in working order now though, so I guess the little feedback button in the lower right corner of my screen is good for something after all...  And then yesterday was WEDDING TIME, rendering me incapable and entirely unwilling to sit at my laptop and compose what you now read.  Rod's cuzzie Vida married her long-time beau Nic in a pretty outdoor ceremony at The Moon and Sixpence in Muldersdrift.  If you're keen to see a few snaps of the proceedings taken by yours truly, I've posted a few on my other blog {Jade & Jasmine}, so head on over and have a squiz, and perhaps click on the "Follow" button while you're there ;)

And, of course, the fact that wedding season is upon us here in South Africa means only one thing - spring is here!!  If there's one time of year that I love, it's spring. With my bloodlines hailing from Scotland, Ireland, England, Germany and Sweden, I feel I am fully qualified to state that I am too European for our sunny South African climate!  But spring is just perfect.  The gentle warmth of the evenings, the scent of the jasmine blooming beside our front door, everything fresh and green and GLORIOUS!  And the colours! I am in awe of nature's ability to surprise me anew each year with its simple beauty. There is a sense of promise in the air that nothing can imitate.

Some of the flowers blooming in our garden

Doctors & Date Night

Yes, yes, this post is precisely two days late, by Shire reckoning, but with good reason!  On Wednesday Aunty Ter came to visit little man and I, and by Wednesday night I was so spent I just fell into bed without even considering the state of my kitchen, let alone the absence of a blog post!  It's always great when Ter comes to visit - a little bit of adult conversation during daylight hours is good for the soul, not to mention that it's one of about three opportunities I have to find out what's going on in the outside world without having to log on to Facebook or Whatsapp! We found we had a great deal to chat about, and Ricky even chimed in with a few well-placed burbles and "nnn-DAHs".

Monkey monkey with his Aunty Ter

Cops In The Nursery!!

And just like that we're at the end of August!  I can't believe my little man is already five months old!  He's off the penicillin since Saturday (thank God!!) and quite back to his old self!  I can't say I'm not glad to see the last of that particular period.  Life is decidedly back to normal and back on schedule, and I couldn't be more pleased!  We took Ricky to the baby clinic on Monday for his monthly weigh-in.  He seems to actually enjoy it - the sisters love him! - and just grinned and bounced on my lap the whole time.  He is now 8.05kg and 67cm tall, my big boy!  After chatting to the sister, I've decided to start weaning him from the breast, slowly.  I plan on breastfeeding up to his first birthday, but he's on second foods now, and needs to learn to rely on solids over milk for a full tummy, so there go the pre-meal milk feeds.  He's also been introduced to a whole lot of new flavours and textures, and we're yet come across a food he doesn't like.  So far, so good!  Let's hope he keeps it up! *fingers crossed*

To The Paed!

Tuesday - it starts...

"So, what they'll tell you at the baby clinic is: "Oh, he's just got a cold!" What they don't tell you is that he'll still spend the night awake and screaming because he can't breathe..." - Rodney

What many won't tell you - not out of spite, but perhaps because it simply doesn't occur to them - is that there is a definite disadvantage to having a child born at the beginning of autumn.  Not only is the final stage of your pregnancy in the blistering heat of late summer, but your little bundle is going to spend the first few months of his or her life dealing with the myriad diseases that seem to so be abundant in the winter season. We have been blessed to have had a healthy home this entire winter, not so much as a sniffle or a cough has darkened our door.  But that all changed last Monday...

Easy Home-Made First Food Purees

I'm one of those people who, since my teens, occasionally takes a turn past the baby foods aisle in the supermarket in search of a jar of Purity's apple or peach puree to nom in front of the TV.  I love the stuff!  But, while I endorse said foodstuff for my own consumption, I decided that when it came time for solids, I would prefer to nourish my little one with something a little less preservative-laden, and a little less expensive.  And so my search began for a few simple and tasty puree recipes I could whip up in my own kitchen.   I always believed that, at the cost of a jar of Purity, there must be a whole lot that goes into making a tasty puree, but I stand corrected.

To many moms, the idea of making your own baby food can be somewhat daunting on top of the massive list of commitments you already have as Mommy, especially if you and the kitchen are not the best of friends!  But these recipes are so simple you could make them with one hand tied behind your back!  And at less than R1 per meal, they're light on the pocket too!

And Then There Was Light!

As just about every new parent will tell you, when your little bundle of joy comes along you bid a tearful farewell to good and proper sleep and a tired hello to long nights and stolen naps, at least for a while.  This is not news.  And so it is no surprise that when Rod and I announced that Ricky was on the way, just about every seasoned veteran looked upon us with a mixture of pity and sly glee and reminded us that for the next few years we would be little more than a pair of individuals reduced to a constant state of semi-consciousness.  I expected that my nights would be whittled down to three hour stretches of sleep - if I were to be so lucky - peppered with lengthy feeds and soothing cuddles.  I expected that the darkly shadowed eyes I had lovingly crafted every morning before art school would make a comeback, albeit in a more natural manner.  I also expected that there would be light at the end of the tunnel.  What I didn't expect was that the tunnel would be so short!

At 15 weeks old, Ricky started sleeping through.

Meet Mommy

I’m no one important.  I’m no world-renowned author or authority.  I’m not spectacularly rich.  I grew up modestly, attending government schools.  I won’t be found moving in the same circles as the latest celebrities, and my parents are your standard-issue, middle-class, parents-of-the-80s – no legendary musicians or politicians birthed this woman.  In most ways I am superbly normal, some would even dare to say dull.  But allow me a moment, if you will, to introduce myself.  My name is Tamlyn – a 28-year-old wife to Rodney and mommy to a gorgeous baby boy we’ve named Richard.